Thin Walls
A Fictional Story by Gooner25.
Will clapped me on the shoulder again as he passed through the kitchen. “We’re having people over tonight. Just Kayla and a couple friends. You should hang out.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
—
That night, Kayla arrived in a crop top that barely contained her tits and a skirt so short I could see the crease where her thighs met her ass when she bent to untie her sandals. She hugged me hello, pressing her chest against mine long enough for me to feel her nipples through the thin fabric. My face burned. She smelled like vanilla and something darker.
Will’s friends showed up—Cole and Tessa, a couple who were clearly in the same casual, confident orbit as Will and Kayla. Tessa was tall with sharp cheekbones and a loud laugh. Cole was broad-shouldered, the kind of guy who walked into a room as he owned it.
We drank. We played cards. Kayla sat next to me on the couch, her bare thigh warm against mine. Every time she leaned forward to grab her drink, I caught a glimpse of her tits swaying in her top. I was half-hard the entire night, trying to hide it with a throw pillow.
At some point, the conversation turned to sex. It always did with these people.
“Hookup culture gets a bad rap,” Tessa said, gesturing with her drink. “Some of the best sex I’ve had was with people I barely knew.”
“Agreed,” Cole said, pulling Tessa against him. “No pressure, no baggage. Just raw attraction.”
Kayla laughed. “Will and I have been fucking for months, and I still don’t know his middle name.”
“Does it matter?” Will grinned. He was sprawled in the armchair, legs spread wide, one hand resting on his crotch like he was reminding everyone it was there.
Kayla turned to me. “What about you, quiet guy? Any wild stories?”
My throat tightened. “Not really.”
“A virgin,” Will announced, like he was reading a menu item. “Twenty-four and never been kissed. Well—” he paused. “Kissed, maybe?”
“Once,” I admitted. “In high school.”
Tessa’s eyes widened. Cole smirked. But Kayla just looked at me with that warm, curious expression—the same one from the kitchen.
“That’s kind of sweet,” she said. Then, quieter, leaning in so only I could hear: “Don’t worry. We’ll corrupt you eventually.”
My cock strained against my underwear. I was grateful for the pillow.
—
The night wound down. Cole and Tessa left. Will disappeared to his room. Kayla lingered in the hallway, stretching her arms above her head so that her crop top rode up, exposing the flat plane of her stomach.
“Coming to bed?” Will called from his room.
“In a minute.” She looked at me. “Can I ask you something?”
I swallowed. “Sure.”
“Earlier—when I asked if you were a virgin. You looked scared.”
“I wasn’t scared.”
“You looked like you wanted to disappear.” She stepped closer. “Why?”
“Because—” I fumbled. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Why? Because you haven’t had sex? Or because I noticed?”
“Both, I guess.”
She tilted her head. “You know what I noticed this morning? In the kitchen?”
My heart stopped. “What?”
“When Will was kissing me. You stepped back. But not before I saw.”
“Saw what?”
Her lips curved. “You’re hard to read, but your shorts are easy to read.”
I wanted the floor to swallow me. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize.” Her voice was warm but direct. “I wasn’t offended. I was… curious.”
“About what?”
“About why a guy who’s clearly into me—and let’s be honest, you’re very into me—hasn’t made a single move.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
“Is it just shyness?” she pressed. “Or is there something else?”
I couldn’t lie to her. Not when she was standing that close, her eyes searching mine, her tits inches from my chest.
“It’s… I don’t have a lot to work with,” I whispered. “Down there. I know guys are supposed to be—and I’m not. So I don’t try.”
Kayla’s expression didn’t change. No pity, no disgust. Just curiosity.
“How small are we talking?” she asked, her voice low.
My face was on fire. “Like… three and a half inches. Hard.”
She looked down at my shorts, then back up. “Show me.”
“What?”
“I want to see. Not to make fun of you. I just want to know what I’m working with.”
I stared at her. Her eyes were steady. Behind the closed door of Will’s room, music played. We were alone in the hallway.
My hands were shaking as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and underwear. I pulled them down. My cock—thin, barely three inches, twitching in the open air—was fully exposed.
Kayla looked at it. Really looked. She crouched down, her face level with my crotch, studying my dick the way someone might study a painting in a museum.
“Can I?” she asked, reaching her hand toward it.
I nodded.
Her fingers wrapped around my cock easily—there was room to spare. She held it, feeling its weight, running her thumb over the tip. I nearly buckled.
“It’s small,” she said simply. “But it’s hard. That’s a good sign.”
I let out a shaky breath. “You’re not laughing.”
“I’m not going to laugh at a guy for something he can’t control.” She paused. “But I’m not going to pretend it’s not small, either. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
She stood up, still holding my cock. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go fuck Will. You’re going to listen. And when I come back out, we’re going to talk more about this. Deal?”
“Deal.”
She let go of my cock, gave it a little pat, and walked toward Will’s room. At the door, she looked over her shoulder. “Pull your pants up. You look ridiculous standing in the hallway like that.”
I scrambled to dress myself.
—
That night, I lay in bed and listened.
Will’s bed frame creaked first. Then Kayla’s voice—low at first, then louder.
“Oh fuck, yes—right there—”
I could hear the wet slap of skin on skin. The rhythmic thud of the headboard against the wall. Will’s deep grunts and Kayla’s escalating moans.
“Your cock feels so good inside me,” she gasped. “So fucking deep—”
I wrapped my hand around my own cock. Three inches. Thin. The kind of dick that got lost in a fist, let alone a pussy. I stroked myself while Will fucked Kayla through the wall, listening to her cry out as she came.
When I came, it was a thin spurt onto my stomach. I lay there, breathing hard, feeling the familiar mix of shame and arousal.
—
The next morning, Kayla was in the kitchen alone. She wore one of Will’s t-shirts, oversized and nothing else. The hem hit mid-thigh.
She saw me and smiled. “Morning.”
“Hi.”
“Coffee’s ready.” She poured me a cup. “Sleep okay?”
“Not really.”
“Me neither. Will fucked me twice.” She said it casually, like commenting on the weather. “He’s good at that.”
I sipped my coffee, not meeting her eyes.
“Last night,” she continued. “You showed me something vulnerable. I want to honor that.”
I looked up.
“But I also want to be honest with you.” She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms under her tits. “I like big dicks. I like the way they feel, the way they fill me up. Will’s is over seven inches and thick. I love it.”
My stomach dropped.
“But,” she continued, “that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate what you have. It just means I appreciate it differently.”
“Differently how?”
She smiled. “Come here.”
I walked over to her, my heart pounding. She reached out and cupped my cock through my shorts.
“Already hard,” she murmured. “You really are into me, aren’t you?”
“Since the first day.”
“Poor thing.” She squeezed gently. “You’ve been walking around this apartment with this little thing, watching me parade around in next to nothing, listening to me get fucked every other night. That must have been torture.”
“It was.”
“Good torture or bad torture?”
“Both.”
She laughed softly. “Here’s what I’m thinking. I want to teach you some things. About your body, about what you can do. But I also want you to understand that this—” she squeezed my cock again, “—is never going to be what satisfies me. Not the way Will does. Can you accept that?”
I nodded slowly. My cock throbbed in her hand.
“Say it,” she said.
“This—my cock—is never going to satisfy you.”
“Good boy.” She let go. “Now go take a shower. I’ll see you tonight.”
—
That night, Will went out with Cole. Kayla stayed.
She knocked on my door. “Come to the living room.”
I found her on the couch, legs crossed, wearing a silk robe. On the coffee table was a ruler.
“Sit,” she said, patting the cushion next to her.
I sat.
“Show me again,” she said.
I pulled down my shorts. My cock stood up, thin and eager.
“Measure it,” she said.
I picked up the ruler. Pressed it against my pelvis. The tip of my cock reached just past the three-inch mark.
“Three and a quarter,” I said.
“Write it down.”
“On what?”
“There’s a notebook in the drawer. Write it down. Date, measurement. I want to track this.”
I found the notebook and wrote it down, my hand shaking.
“Good,” she said. “Now. I’m going to show you something.”
She untied her robe and let it fall open. She was naked underneath. Her tits were perfect—round, firm, with pink nipples that were already hard. Her pussy was smooth, lips slightly parted, glistening.
“Look at me,” she said. “Really look.”
I looked. My cock twitched.
“This is what a woman looks like when she’s aroused. See how wet I am?” She spread her legs wider, running a finger through her folds. “That’s because of Will. Because I was thinking about last night. About his big cock filling me up.”
I watched her finger circle her clit. My own cock throbbed, ignored.
“But I’m also a little wet because of you,” she admitted. “Because showing me your little dick was brave. And because watching you get hard while I talk about Will’s cock is… interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Hot, actually.” She pushed two fingers inside herself, moaning softly. “There’s something about a guy who knows he’s small and still wants me. It’s pathetic in a way that turns me on.”
I didn’t know what to say. My cock was leaking precum onto the couch.
“Touch yourself,” she said. “I want to watch.”
I wrapped my hand around my cock. Three fingers was all it took. I stroked slowly while she fucked herself with her fingers.
“Tell me what you think about,” she said.
“You. Always you. Your tits, your ass, your pussy. The sounds you make when Will fucks you.”
“What sounds?”
“When you—when you come. When you scream his name.”
She moaned louder, fingers moving faster. “You listen to us every time, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Every time he fucks me, you’re in here stroking this little cock, wishing it was you.”
“Yes.”
“But it’s never going to be you. Not like that.” She was breathing hard now. “You know that, right? This cock—” she reached over and flicked the head of my dick with her finger, “—is never going to make me scream.”
“I know.”
“Say it.”
“This cock is never going to make you scream.”
“Good.” She arched her back, fingers buried deep. “Now come for me. Come with your little cock in your hand while I think about Will’s big dick.”
I came immediately—a thin, weak stream that dribbled down my fingers. Kayla watched, her eyes dark, and then she came too, her body shuddering, her pussy clenching around her fingers.
We sat there in the aftermath. The room smelled like sex.
Kayla pulled her robe closed and looked at me. “Same time tomorrow?”
I nodded.
She kissed my forehead. “Good boy.”
—
It became our routine.
Every night Will was out, Kayla would come to me. She’d make me strip, measure my cock, write it down. Three and a quarter. Three and a quarter. Never changing.
She’d touch herself while I stroked, narrating her fantasies about Will, about Cole, about strangers with big cocks. Sometimes she’d let me touch her tits. Sometimes she’d let me kiss her feet. Sometimes she’d just watch me, her eyes sharp and hungry, and tell me how pathetic I looked.
And every time, I came harder than the last.
One night, she brought her phone. “I recorded something last night. Want to hear?”
She played the audio. Will’s grunts. Kayla’s moans. The wet, slapping sound of sex.
“Listen to that,” she whispered, pressing the phone to my ear. “That’s what a real cock sounds like inside me. Can you hear how wet I am? That’s because he’s stretching me out. Filling me.”
I stroked my cock, tears forming in my eyes, not from sadness—from the overwhelming, consuming need.
“You want to see it, don’t you?” she said. “You want to watch.”
“Yes.”
“Next time,” she promised. “Next time you can watch.”
The next night, Will was home. Kayla told me to wait in my room with the door cracked.
I heard them start—the moans, the creaking bed, the dirty talk.
Then Kayla’s voice, clear and deliberate: “Leave the door open.”
I heard Will laugh. “The virgin’s going to hear us.”
“Let him.”
Footsteps. The door to Will’s room opened wider. Light spilled into the hallway.
“Come here,” Kayla called.
I walked down the hall on unsteady legs. Will was on the bed, naked, his cock—thick, veined, easily seven inches—jutting up from his lap. Kayla was on all fours, her ass facing me, her pussy swollen and wet.
“Watch,” she said.
Will positioned himself behind her and pushed in. Kayla’s eyes rolled back. “Oh fuck—yes—”
I stood in the doorway, my cock straining against my shorts, watching Will’s thick cock slide in and out of Kayla’s pussy. She was right—he filled her. Her lips stretched around his girth, gripping him with every thrust.
“Look at his little dick,” Will said, glancing at me. “He’s hard as a rock watching us.”
Kayla turned her head to look at me. Her face was flushed, eyes glazed. “Take it out,” she gasped. “Show Will.”
I pulled down my shorts. My cock bobbed in the air—thin, short, twitching.
Will laughed. “Holy shit. That’s really all you’ve got?”
“Three and a quarter,” Kayla panted. “We measured.”
“Bro.” Will shook his head, still thrusting. “I’ve got twice that soft.”
I stood there, exposed, humiliated, harder than I’d ever been.
“Touch yourself,” Kayla commanded. “Right there. While you watch.”
I wrapped my fingers around my cock and stroked. Will fucked Kayla harder, making her scream. I watched his big cock disappear into her over and over, listened to her praise it, worship it.
“His cock is so big,” she moaned, looking at me. “So much bigger than yours. This is what I need. This is what a real cock feels like.”
I came on the hallway floor, a thin, pitiful stream. Will and Kayla laughed. Then Will came inside her, groaning loudly, and Kayla came with him, screaming his name.
I stood there, cock softening, cum dripping down my fingers, watching them collapse onto the bed together.
Kayla looked at me over her shoulder, Will’s cum leaking from her pussy. “Clean yourself up,” she said. “And clean the floor.”
I went back to my room. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my cock already getting hard again.
I could still hear them laughing through the wall.
—
The next morning, Kayla was in the kitchen, humming. She looked at me with a satisfied smile.
“Sleep okay?”
“No.”
“Good.” She sipped her coffee. “Same time tonight?”
I nodded.
She winked. “Good boy.”
My cock twitched in my shorts. Three and a quarter inches. Never going to satisfy her and never going to make her scream.
But she kept coming back.
And so did I.
—
The routine deepened.
Kayla started leaving notes on my door—little folded squares of paper, always in her looping handwriting.
“Tonight. 9 pm. Don’t eat dinner—I’ll feed you.”
Or: “Wear the grey shorts. The ones that don’t hide anything.”
Or just one word: “Measure.”
I kept the notebook in my nightstand drawer. Three and a quarter. Three and a quarter. Three and a quarter. The numbers never changed, but the entries multiplied. Kayla had me draw a small graph at the back of the notebook, plotting my measurements over time. A flat line. She’d tap the page with her fingernail and smile.
“Consistent,” she said. “At least you’re consistent.”
—
Thursday evening. Will was working late. Kayla showed up at my door holding a shopping bag.
“Change of plans,” she said. “We’re going out.”
“Where?”
“Just put on something decent and follow me.”
She drove. I sat in the passenger seat of her car, fidgeting. She was wearing a low-cut dress, black, tight enough to show the outline of her nipples. She hadn’t worn a bra.
“You’re staring,” she said without looking at me.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just admit it. You’re staring at my tits.”
I swallowed. “I’m staring at your tits.”
“Good boy.” She reached over and placed her hand on my shorts, cupping my cock through the fabric. “Still tiny.”
“It’s not hard yet.”
She squeezed. “It’s not going to get much bigger, is it?”
“No.”
“That’s the spirit.”
—
We pulled up to a townhouse I’d never been to. Kayla knocked, and Tessa opened the door.
“Finally!” Tessa pulled Kayla into a hug. She was wearing a cropped sweater and leggings, her hair pulled back. She looked me up and down. “And this is the roommate?”
“This is him,” Kayla said.
Tessa’s eyes dropped to my crotch. Casually. Deliberately. Then back up to my face. She smiled. “Come in.”
The living room was warm and dimly lit. Cole was on the couch, drink in hand. He raised it in greeting. “Virgin boy! How’s it hanging?”
Before I could respond, Kayla whispered in my ear: “I told them everything.”
My blood went cold. “Everything?”
“Everything. Tessa was fascinated. Cole thought it was hilarious.” She guided me to the couch and pushed me down. “They want to see.”
“Kayla—”
“Shh.” She sat beside me, her thigh pressed against mine. “You said you trusted me.”
“I do, but—”
“Then trust me.”
Tessa sat across from us, legs tucked under her, sipping wine. Cole leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“So,” Tessa said, her voice clinical and curious. “Three and a quarter inches. Is that hard or soft?”
“Hard,” Kayla answered for me.
Tessa raised her eyebrows. “And you’ve never had sex?”
“No.”
“Never a blowjob? Handjob? Anything?”
Kayla looked at me. I shook my head.
“Nothing,” Kayla said. “Total virgin. Twenty-four years old with a cock the size of my pinky.”
Tessa held up her pinky finger and examined it. Cole laughed.
“Show us,” Tessa said. Not a request. A command.
I looked at Kayla. She nodded.
My hands trembled as I stood up. I hooked my thumbs into my shorts and pulled them down. My cock hung soft—barely two inches, thin, shriveled from nerves.
“Oh my God,” Tessa breathed. She leaned forward. “It’s actually smaller soft.”
“Get hard for them,” Kayla said. “Show them what three and a quarter looks like.”
I wrapped my hand around my cock and stroked. In front of strangers. In a lit room. With Tessa’s sharp eyes studying every millimeter of my growth.
It didn’t take long. My cock stiffened, reaching its full, unimpressive length. I let go and let it stand there—thin, twitching, exposed.
Cole stood up and walked over. He stopped next to me, looking down.
“Bro,” he said. Then he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his own cock. Soft, it was already bigger than mine, hard. He held it in his palm, letting it hang. “This is what a normal dick looks like, soft.”
Tessa laughed. “Don’t be mean, babe.”
“I’m not being mean. I’m being educational.” Cole flopped his cock side to side. “See the weight? The girth? That’s what fits in a pussy. That’s what makes a woman feel something.”
My cock twitched. Everyone noticed.
“He likes it,” Kayla said. “Watch.” She turned to me. “Tell them what you told me. About what you hear through the wall.”
My face burned. “I listen to Will and Kayla have sex.”
“Every time?” Tessa asked.
“Every time.”
“And what do you do while you listen?”
I closed my eyes. “I touch myself.”
“With your little cock?”
“Yes.”
“Does it feel good?”
“It feels—” I paused. “It feels like enough. Until it’s over, then it feels like nothing.”
The room went quiet. Tessa’s expression shifted from amusement to something softer. She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward.
“That’s actually kind of beautiful,” she said. “In a pathetic way.”
“Pathetic is his thing,” Kayla said. “He owns it.”
“Does he?” Tessa looked at me. “Do you own it? Or does it own you?”
I opened my eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Stroke yourself,” she said. “Right now. While we watch, show us what you do alone in your room.”
I wrapped my fingers around my cock—three fingers, thumb and two more—and stroked. Slow, deliberate, putting on a show I’d never imagined I’d perform. Cole’s cock was still out, hanging thick between his legs. Tessa watched with parted lips. Kayla sat back, arms crossed, smiling.
“Compare them,” Kayla said. “Side by side.”
I moved next to Cole. His cock was thick, heavy, a real man’s cock. Mine looked like a mistake next to it—a pale, thin afterthought.
Tessa pulled out her phone. “Can I take a picture?”
“Ask him,” Kayla said.
Tessa looked at me. “Can I?”
I nodded. I don’t know why. Maybe because the shame had already swallowed me whole and there was no point fighting it from the inside.
She snapped the photo. My cock and Cole’s, side by side. The contrast was devastating.
“Send it to me,” Kayla said. “I want Will to see.”
My cock leaked precum onto the floor.
“He’s dripping,” Cole said. “He’s actually getting off on this.”
“Of course he is,” Kayla said. “This is what he’s been craving—someone to see him. Really see him. Not pretend he’s normal. Not fake it.” She stood up and walked over to me. She took my cock between her thumb and forefinger—literally just two fingers—and stroked it. “This little thing has been hiding in his pants for twenty-four years, and now it’s out in the open where it belongs.”
I whimpered. Her grip was so light, so casual, like she was holding a pen.
“Tessa,” Kayla said. “Come here.”
Tessa set down her wine and walked over. She crouched beside Kayla, both of them at eye level with my cock.
“Touch it,” Kayla said. “Go ahead.”
Tessa reached out. Her fingers were longer than Kayla’s, nails painted dark red. She pinched the head of my cock between her thumb and forefinger and wiggled it.
“It’s so light,” she said. “Like it’s barely there.” She let go and watched it bob. “Can you even feel anything when you fuck? I mean, if you ever did?”
“He’s never fucked,” Kayla reminded her.
“Right.” Tessa looked up at me. “Do you want to?”
“Want to what?”
“Fuck. Have you ever wanted to put that inside someone?”
I looked at her face—sharp cheekbones, dark eyes, lips slightly parted. Then at Kayla, standing beside her, her tits straining against her dress.
“Every day,” I whispered.
“Of course you do.” Tessa stood up. “But you know it wouldn’t work, right? You know that little thing would just—” she made a loose, open circle with her fingers and pushed her other hand’s pinky through it, barely touching the sides. “Just slide around. Nothing to grip. Nothing to stretch.”
I was shaking. My cock was harder than it had ever been, red and straining at its meager three and a quarter inches.
“Sit down,” Kayla said. “I have an idea.”
I sat. She positioned herself in front of me, between my legs, and lifted her dress. No underwear. Her pussy was right there, smooth and pink.
“Look,” she said. “This is what you want. This is what you’ve been staring at, jerking off to, dreaming about.”
She spread her lips with two fingers. I could see how wet she was, the glistening opening, the pink interior.
“Now,” she said, “I’m going to let you try.”
“Try what?”
“Putting it in.”
My heart hammered. “You said—”
“I said your cock would never satisfy me. I didn’t say you couldn’t try.” She stepped closer, straddling my lap. Her pussy was inches from my cock. “I want you to feel what it’s like. So you understand. So you know, without a doubt, what you’re missing.”
She reached down and positioned my cock at her entrance. I felt the heat. The wetness. The softness of her lips against the tip.
“Push,” she said.
I pushed. My cock slid in—but barely. Kayla’s pussy was warm and slick, but I could barely feel the walls. My cock was so thin it just floated inside her, touching nothing, gripping nothing.
“Can you feel me?” she asked.
“A little. Not—”
“Not much.” She nodded. “I can barely feel you either. You’re inside me, and I can’t tell.”
Tessa watched, mouth open. Cole was stroking his cock, now fully hard—eight inches, thick, jutting out like a weapon.
“Let me show you what it looks like when it works,” Kayla said. She lifted herself off me and turned to Cole. “Fuck me.”
Cole didn’t hesitate. He bent Kayla over the arm of the couch and pushed into her in one stroke. Kayla screamed—actually screamed—and her back arched.
“Oh fuck—yes—that—that’s what I need—”
I sat two feet away, my cock wet with Kayla’s pussy, watching Cole’s thick cock stretch her open. I could see her lips gripping him, pulling out with each thrust, clinging to his shaft. The sound was obscene—wet, slapping, heavy.
“Look at his face,” Tessa said, sitting beside me. She took my chin and turned it toward her. “You’re crying.”
I was. Tears ran down my cheeks. Not from sadness. From the overwhelming, annihilating truth of it.
“Touch yourself,” Tessa said. “While you watch. Show me what three and a quarter inches looks like when it comes.”
I stroked. Cole fucked Kayla. She screamed his name. Tessa watched me, her dark eyes sharp, her lips parted.
When I came, it was thin and weak—a few drops on my thigh. Cole pulled out and came on Kayla’s ass, thick ropes of cum that looked like they belonged to a different species.
Kayla turned around, cum dripping down her cheeks, and looked at me.
“Now you know,” she said. “Now you know what it looks like. What it feels like. The difference.”
I nodded, tears still falling.
She walked over, cum still on her ass, and kissed my forehead. “Good boy. You needed that.”
—
The drive home was quiet. Kayla drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I think so.”
“You were perfect tonight.”
“I was pathetic.”
“That’s what perfect looks like for you.” She squeezed my thigh. “And you know what? You came harder than Cole. I saw it. That little cock of yours may not be much, but it felt everything. Every single thing.”
I didn’t know if that made it better or worse.
—
Back at the apartment, Will was asleep. Kayla walked me to my room.
“Same time Saturday,” she said. “But next time, I want you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Write it down. Everything you felt tonight. Every detail. I want to read it while you stroke yourself.”
“Okay.”
She kissed my cheek. “Goodnight, small guy.”
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My cock was soft—two inches, resting on my thigh. I could still feel Kayla’s pussy around it. The nothingness of it. The way I’d disappeared inside her and left no trace.
I picked up the notebook and wrote:
Three and a quarter. Still.
Then, underneath:
She let me inside. I felt nothing. She felt nothing. Cole made her scream. I made her laugh.
I came harder anyway.
I closed the notebook and turned off the light. Through the wall, I could hear Will shifting in his sleep. In a few hours, Kayla would be in his bed, and I’d be in mine, listening, stroking three and a quarter inches of nothing, knowing exactly what I was and exactly what I wasn’t.
I’d never been more honest with myself.
I’d never been harder.
The End.
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