The Outing of Norman
A Fictional Story by RandyKneeling.
It was our attractive, if conservatively understated neighbor, who lived two houses down in our quiet little subdivision. Becky, who, unbeknownst to her, was the frequent star of my late-night fantasies. And thanks to my wife’s recently cultivated verbal talents and prodding questions, those fantasies were now as familiar to Carla as they were to me. After 15 years of marriage, Carla’s bedroom teasing proved to be just the added spice our sex life needed.
But it was one thing for us to talk about Becky behind her back, in the privacy of our own bedroom. It was quite another to have her in our house. She seemed a bit flushed from her walk, and for very different reasons, I was too. I felt more than a little uncomfortable, being in front of her while I was still in my sleepwear. Mind you, I was fully covered – wearing baggy old sweats and a t-shirt – but underneath the sweats I was commando. Not that much would normally be revealed; after all, I’m not exactly blessed in that department. Trouble was, with only the thinness of material between my nakedness and our fully clothed neighbor, an uprising had begun. Remembering our private games had triggered thoughts one doesn’t normally entertain in front of neighbors, let alone first thing in the morning.
In a nod to civility, I managed to pull off a half-rise from my chair in greeting before slumping back down to hide the growing tent in my sweats. With that bit of propriety out of the way, I figured nonchalance shouldn’t be too hard to maintain; I just needed to stay seated and act normally.
“Good morning, Becky, come and have a seat. Were you just starting your walk, or finishing?”
“Finishing, or I wouldn’t have come in. My morning walk is too important a routine to mess with.”
Becky took a place at the breakfast nook while Carla retrieved an extra mug, filled it, topped off our own cups, and took a seat opposite me, putting Becky between us. The conversation was easy and settled into recent neighborhood gossip, which I largely tuned out until I noticed Becky sounding surprised at whatever my wife had just said.
“I don’t believe it! For starters, this isn’t that kind of neighborhood. Trust me, Carla, I’ve lived here a lot longer than you two; I know everyone on this street and most of the adjoining ones. No one here is that perverted. Sorry, it’s just not a concern; it wouldn’t ever happen here.”
Without more context, I couldn’t think of anything to say. But it was obvious that, whatever the topic, Carla had raised it, and Becky considered it a perversion. This wasn’t good. Carla had promised my secrets were safe with her, but all of a sudden, my previously rock-solid trust in her was beginning to waver. I covertly slipped my hands off the table and casually brought them to rest in my lap. Undaunted by Becky’s skepticism, my devious wife rose to the bait.
“I think you’d be surprised. In fact, I’m sure you would. I’m tempted to prove it to you, but it’s not my call. Suffice to say, some guys are just like that, and it’s not necessarily perverted. Well, maybe a little – but it can also be quite harmless. I think it just depends on the guy.”
Carla’s expression made her intentions clear – to me, anyway. I began to subtly stimulate myself, enjoying the flirtatious, dangerous game my wife was playing with our guest.
“I don’t know, Carla, that’s pretty hard to believe. I do know one thing – it’s not something I would ever want to see; I’ll tell you that.”
My chub was building, and Carla had seen the look on my face often enough to recognize what was happening. She knew I was playing with my dick under the table. As I toyed with myself, I imagined Becky catching me in the act. Mercifully, Carla was leaving me out of the conversation, freeing me to engage with my fantasy fully.
“You say you’re not interested, Becky, but that’s because you’re thinking of some stranger lewdly touching himself, like some creep lurking outside a public restroom, or riding on the bus. But what if it was a private setting, someplace relaxed and safe, with someone you were comfortable being around? You know, someone harmless. Maybe even someone you knew.”
God, I was loving this, even if it was starting to get a little scary.
“I dunno… I have a hard time imagining any situation where that would be of interest to me.”
At that, Carla turned to me and asked,
“Norman, I think it’s time. We’ve talked about this, what do you think… can I?”
I knew exactly what she was asking, and the idea terrified me, which made me stiffen further. She was letting me choose, giving me a chance to reset the game board. I could see Becky’s confusion, and I couldn’t imagine how Carla would be able to explain those last few words; words which now hung pregnant in the air. Still, I felt confident she’d have some hip-pocket idea on how to do just that, if I chose to preserve the status quo.
The safety of keeping my secret felt impossible to abandon; but the temptation of living out my fantasy was ridiculously compelling. All I had to do was say yes to Carla, and it would all unfold. I sat mute, unable to make the choice. My cunning wife had intentionally stirred the submissive inside me, and now I simply lacked the strength to consent to what I wanted. Mercifully, she recognized my turmoil and let me off the hook, conspiratorially explaining to the suddenly slack-jawed Becky,
“I think he wants me to; he’s just too afraid to admit it.”
Becky was utterly clueless, but before she could ask what was going on, Carla pressed ahead,
“I’ll tell you what, honey — I’ll talk reeeally slow, and you can say ‘stop’ anytime you feel uncomfortable, okay? I promise it will be alright. Trust me.”
She was appealing to what she knew the sub in me wanted – to put my fate in her hands, even as she strolled ever closer to the edge. My dick was throbbing so hard under my hand it was starting to hurt. Carla smiled at me and continued, slowing her delivery as promised, but speaking sotto voce — a register previously reserved for our most intimate moments.
“I know he seems innocent – the way he’s sitting there all prim and proper, with his hands in his lap. You can’t detect any movement in those hands, can you? But notice how his fingers are not intertwined?”
She paused, ostensibly waiting for the nod Becky was giving her, but in reality, giving me one final easy out. She looked at me, still waiting, but all I could do was twitch nervously and bite my lip. I still couldn’t commit, lost in love with the exquisite anguish of her torment.
“Do you know why he holds them like that, with one covering the other?”
Last chance, Norman…
“It’s so you can’t see that the bottom hand is making the tiniest little movements over the frenulum of his erect penis. Look at him – he’s probably still doing it, even as I’m telling on him.”
That was it, the words were out – no turning back now. As Carla suggested, Becky is now carefully studying my behavior. I already feel like I’m going to lose it, and to postpone the inevitable, I stop moving my finger and avoid looking at Becky altogether. The last expression I see on her face before I avert my eyes is a slowly dawning shock, which I fear might grow into horror.
“You see, Becky, Norman gets off on the surreptitious nature as much as the actual physical contact. It’s amazing how small his movements need to be to keep him in a completely aroused state. He might be making tiny up-and-down or side-to-side motions. Or he may be applying the slightest pressure to make that most sensitive place merely pulsate. Think about how easily you can keep yourself on the edge with a single fingertip. It’s just like that for Norman and his little dick. Isn’t it, baby?”
She was right; I had continued to tease myself during her devastatingly accurate description of my perversion. I still can’t believe she’s actually outed me like this — and especially throwing in that reveal about my size! In front of Becky, of all people!
Despite the burning rush of shame flooding over me, I need to answer her question. There really isn’t any choice about whether to be truthful. I can’t deny it — after all, why would a wife make up such an outrageous thing about her own husband? Not to mention, it would be the easiest thing to call my bluff by simply revealing the rock-hard evidence in my sweats. My only choice is whether to be forthcoming or evasive. I like to think of myself as someone who can own my kinks and not allow anyone to shame me about them. Unfortunately, my own shame has drowned out whatever false bravado I might have hoped to muster. I can’t bear to look Becky in the eye, so I take refuge in the countenance of my beautiful wife and confess,
“Yes, it’s exactly like that! The slightest movement is enough—too much sometimes, like when you told Becky… what I was doing… I — I just had to stop myself to keep from cumming!”
“See, I knew it! I told you he was still doing it!”
“Jesus, Carla! And you, Norman! Holy shit, I can’t believe this is happening!”
I’m still avoiding looking at Becky, but I notice she doesn’t sound horrified, even if there is still some shock there. I sneak a glance and am relieved to see that in addition to looking aghast, a little smile is creeping over her face, along with something in the eyes that I’d never seen before – at least not in hers. I recognize it though; it’s excitement, anticipation.
Carla is relentless,
“Oh, believe me, it’s happening. It really is the cutest thing too. He gets himself so worked up, until he’s positively beside himself! And he makes the most darling noises, whimpering and whining like a little puppy dog! Honestly, it’s delicious. I wish you could see.”
After a brief pause, Becky softly inquires,
“Could I? I mean, would he let me?”
It feels so strange, the way they’re both talking about me like I’m not even here. I’m here, you guys! I’m right fucking here!
“I don’t know, he’s going through a lot right now. I’m not sure he can even talk anymore, but he might let you. I know he knows I wouldn’t mind. We’ve talked about it; I just love to tease him about it.”
“You’ve talked about it? About what, me?”
“Oh yes, about you! Others too, but especially you. In fact, I daresay you’re Norman’s favorite. Normie, what do you say? You ready to stop hiding and come clean? Are you willing to take out your little dickie and show Becky how you tease it while you think about her?”
Little dickie! Jesus Christ-on-a-fucking-pogo-stick! I can’t believe she just said that! Fuck! And now Becky’s looking at me with that smile plastered all over her face. And the hunger in those eyes! Fuck, there’s no way out of this! Shit!
“Look at him — the questioning desperation… you can tell he wants to, he’s just so painfully shy!”
This is getting out of control! Carla sounds even more turned on than Becky, if that’s possible. At the same time, she’s composed. I guess that makes sense; after all, she’s witnessed this before. I’m not going to be able to half-ass anything here. I’m going to have to actually do this, every bit of it, just like when we play at it, only this time it’s real! Carla’s been my trusted guide in all our previous games, and I know she’s going to insist on my best effort this time. Becky is delighted to learn my true feelings for her.
“Is this true, Norman? You talk about me while you touch yourself? And you have a little dickie? And you like to make it hard, and tease yourself while thinking about me? Do you really want to show me your little dickie? You can if you want, I won’t mind.”
I’m dying inside; I so badly want what she’s offering. And Carla just keeps piling on,
“Yeah, he’s definitely shy; and maybe a little afraid, huh? Baby, are you afraid Becky will make fun of you? Who knows, that might be just what the doctor ordered! Imagine how humiliating it will be if she sees it and keeps teasing you about it. We both know how much you love that! Just think how much you’d get off on hearing Becky tell you those things while staring at your naked thingy! Or maybe she won’t want to be mean. Maybe she’ll just think you look sweet, as I do, and encourage you to make cummies for her, the way I do. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Either way, I don’t see how you could lose, darling.”
I know she’s right, because we’ve tried it both ways. Now it’s time to live it for real, nothing pre-planned, this time Becky’s in charge. I stand up, step away from the table, and then timidly approach her. I want her to see me up close; I want to take out my little peenie and show it to her—have her look right at it. I want to hear what she says. Whatever it is, I know it’ll be perfect! The only question I have is whether I’ll be able to keep from losing it too soon.
She’s sitting there looking up at me; I have her complete attention. She knows what’s coming – we all do. My hands tremble as I slip my thumbs under the elastic waistband of my sweatpants and lower them, keeping my focus on Becky. I know Carla is looking at me, but that hardly matters now. I like that she’s watching, but honestly, I don’t have the capacity to think about her right now. All my attention is on Becky, and the fervent way she’s looking at me makes it difficult to slow the reveal.
My pubes are now poking out of my waistband, and she can see I’m not wearing underwear. Her sudden intake of breath sends a jolt through me. I keep inching my sweats downward, but as much as I try to draw out the unveiling, by the time the base of my penis comes into view, the entire three-and-a-half rigid inches spring free and slap against my pale belly, bobbing only once before coming to rest, pointed up at her face. I push my sweats all the way down, acutely aware that the way they bunch at my ankles makes me look even more like a little boy.
“Wow. You weren’t kidding, it’s small! So… small! And so hard! Oh no, that’s as big as it’s going to get, isn’t it? Oh, you poor thing!”
I was prepared for surprise, or disappointment. I have been met with teasing, even to the point of cruelty. But pity? I’ve never gotten pity! And her tone of voice—so filled with wonder. My breath involuntarily escapes in a single, prolonged shudder. I close my eyes to bask in the moment, her words echoing in my head… It’s small. So small!
Yes, it is small, embarrassingly so! I’m ashamed for you to see it, but please, keep looking! Oh, if only you would reach out and… but no, I know that will never happen. Becky would never, and even if she wanted to, Carla would never allow it. Hell, what am I saying, I don’t deserve it! Still, she’s looking right at it, and now she knows all about me. I slide the fingers of my left hand under my tiny ball sack and pull up on the grapes hidden inside, presenting them in all their humiliating inadequacy — the perfect companions for my equally inadequate member.
“Look at his face! Look what this is doing to him!”
Clearly Carla is loving this, but my focus remains on Becky. Her reaction is everything. In this moment, my life is completely in her hands, even though I know my diminutive prick never will be. I keep my sack firmly in hand and bring my right thumb and forefinger to my stiffy. I stroke as slowly as possible, employing the lightest of pressure. I’m scared to death I’ll squirt before I get the complete experience. Becky’s gaze shifts upward from my embarrassment as she addresses Carla,
“You said you’ve talked about this with him before… about him stroking to the thought of me?”
“The thought of you, certainly; that, and so much more. I’ve even pretended I was you and said every humiliating thing I could think of. All it does is make him more submissive. So say whatever you like, just don’t give him anything to look at; don’t show him any part of your body. I don’t want you to spoil him for me. Besides, it would all be over the moment you did. The mere fact that the words will be in your voice, coming from the real you, will be more than enough, I guarantee it.”
“What about it, Norman? You’ve done this before… is this doing it for you now? Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”
“Yes! Oh, yesss!”
The words were unnecessary — the shiver in my response said it all.
“And you want me to talk to you while you get off? You want me to humiliate you. If I thought of you as a pervert, maybe I could. Unfortunately for you, all I see is a little boy. A precious little boy with a cute little penis he seems so very proud of! And now you want to play with that cute little penis until it squirts all over. Is that about the size of it?”
“Yes, Ma’am, that’s exactly the size!”
“Very good, little boy! Go ahead and show me then — show me how you pull on that little dickie. Tug it to your heart’s content, make it spray all over; just don’t get any on me.”
I do as instructed and bring my middle finger into play. The tried-and-true two-finger tug that embarrassingly covers the length of my shaft. It won’t take long this way. This needs to be a tribute to Becky. I want to impress her and make Carla proud. Throwing caution to the wind, I launch into free association.
“I like to masturbate, and I always think about being watched while I do it. Watched by someone like you – a pretty woman, out of my league. Someone too good for me, someone I could never have. And now you’re really here, watching me! I like thinking of all the ways I could make you happy, if only you’d let me. I think about serving you – being of service to you, even if it’s in the most humiliating, degrading ways imaginable! I’ll do anything to make you happy. And not just you – I’ll serve anyone you want me to! Anything to make you happy!”
My peen is so rigid it feels like a thin steel rod between my thumb and fingers, and it’s starting to weep. Years of training kick in as my left hand – completely on autopilot- relinquishes its hold on my coin purse to collect the clear dewdrop from my pee slit and bring it to my lips. I apply it like lipstick, reveling in the slimy texture, before sneaking my tongue out to steal a taste. Becky releases a sudden gasp, and says,
“Oh, my God! Did you see that?”
It’s a silly question — of course Carla saw it; it happens all the time. Still, it reminds me that it’s not normal; it’s aberrant behavior. It’s dirty, it’s nasty, and the fact that I did it without thinking reveals just how deviant I really am. I’m gratified; she should see this! I want to be seen for exactly what I am. And Carla’s right there with me:
“It’s what he does. He loves his pre-cum, says it’s sweet. It just seems slimy to me, but it does make his lips very kissable. At least when I can get to them before he licks it all off.”
I didn’t plan on having her see this, but only because I was afraid she’d be revolted – but she’s not! Now that it’s out there, I forget myself for a moment and let even more slip.
“I do love to taste my pre-cum, it helps me imagine…”
I stop myself, but it’s too late, and Becky pounces.
“Imagine what, Norman? What is it you think about when you do that? What’s so embarrassing that you can’t even bring yourself to say it in front of me?”
“I… I think about… oh God!”
I can feel my orgasm building. I’ve lost all control; all I can do is let it keep running away from me until it reaches the point where I’ll have to jack hard. In those final excruciating moments, Carla helpfully fills in the blanks for Becky,
“He thinks about it being the pre-cum of another man, a man he’s servicing, a man who lets him do all the dirty things he wants to do, and taste everything he can extract!”
“Jesus! Yes, Norman, that’s it! Squirt for me, little boy! Squirt for Becky!”
My last conscious effort is to turn away from Becky to keep her out of the line of fire. My fingers are flying up and down on my little dick. My mind blanks as my left hand once again betrays me, reflexively cupping in front of my dick as I begin pumping my creamy load into it. The spasms go on and on, and it’s all I can do to keep aim and not waste any of my tribute on the floor. When the final shuddering ends and the last of my ooze drips into the pearly pool collected in my palm, I look at Becky, realizing I’ve revealed something I can’t take back. Her incredulous look says it all — she knows what this means, understands exactly what it portends. Still, she can hardly believe it.
“Fucking hell! Is he about to do what I think he is?”
“Only if you think he’s gonna eat it.”
Carla is ecstatic that I’ve outed myself so completely, and that I’ve once again shocked Becky with the depths of my perversion.
“He does it every time, don’t you, Norman? Go ahead — show her. Show Becky how filthy you are! Eat it for her, Norman! Eat your slimy cum!”
I am grateful for the chance to do it in front of Becky, and grateful to Carla for letting me pretend she’s making me. I lap up my own spending from my palm, then press my face in and slurped up the remainder. Looking Becky dead in the eyes, I swallow it all down. I make a real show of studiously licking my fingers and palm clean, then I milk my dick for that final drop and eat it, demonstrating how thoroughly I perform my clean-up.
“Good boy, Norman! Isn’t he a good boy, Becky?”
“Oh yes, a very good boy! A filthy little pervert, but a very good boy! Thank you for that, Norman. I’m sure I’ll see you around, but I’ll certainly never see you the same way again. And I will think about you from time to time, especially now that I know the way you think about me!”
It sounded intriguing, and slightly ominous. I didn’t know what to say, so I kept quiet. After all, my actions had spoken for me, and there would be plenty of time for talk with Carla later. Becky stood up and announced that she should be getting home, and Carla accompanied her to the door. On their way, I plainly heard their conversation, beginning with Becky’s inquiry,
“So how many of those things he talked about has he actually done?”
Carla brushed it off with a dismissive gesture and replied,
“Oh, none, that’s all just fantasy stuff; it helps him get off.”
Becky seemed to consider that for a moment, then glanced back at me with a sly smile,
“Well, if he ever gets tired of just talking, keep in mind, I’m right down the road.”
The End.
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