It was a Saturday night and my wife, Claire, and I were at a neighbor's party. Everyone was having a good time, drinking beer and wine and telling stories. It was pretty common for the same five couples to get together once a month or so, just to let our hair down.
The party was at Ed and Sheila's home this time. As often happens, the topic of conversation eventually worked around to sex. It never seems to fail. Things hadn't changed all that much in the twenty plus years since we were teens. Sex is still the favorite topic when you get a mixed group together.
Marge Benson had launched into a story about the time when she and Tim were dating. Her parents had surprised them by coming home a full hour sooner than they had planned. Marge and Tim had been making out on the couch when they heard the car in the driveway.
Marge had quickly pulled her dress down and kicked her underwear under the couch. Tim grabbed his pants and tried to pull them up as fast as he could. Thinking she would expedite the matter, Marge grabbed Tim's zipper and gave it a hard pull, closing it extremely quickly. Then she turned to meet her parents as they came through the front door.
Her parents didn't seem too suspicious until they noticed Tim acting very oddly. Marge turned to look at Tim and was startled to see his face was red and he was sweating profusely. Marge's mother asked him if he was feeling ill. Tim could only nod his head as he rushed for the door.
"He was out the door and peeling rubber in the street faster than it takes to tell it," laughed Marge. "It turns out I had caught the end of his dick in the zipper! It took a week of apologizing before he'd even agree to see me again. He wouldn't let me see, or touch, him down there for another month."
That started a round of stories about embarrassing things that women had caused their husbands that involved their dicks. That's when Claire made her statement. I'll never forget it. I can still hear her words.
"I don't have any stories like that about Sam's cock," she assured the group. "It's so damn little it can hardly be seen, let alone get into any trouble. I'm always afraid he'll get it stuck in one of my thimbles when I get my sewing kit out."
I was mortified at her statement. My only hope was that everyone would know she was kidding. There were a few small chuckles from the group, but it was obvious no one was certain just how serious Claire was.
"Now, Claire," chided Marge. "You've had three kids, so I doubt it's all that small."
That was Claire's chance to back off her defamatory statement. Would she?
"It must have been a miracle every time I got pregnant. I did resort to using the turkey baster," laughed Claire. "Now there was something to fit between your legs! Sam's dick is so small he has to piss and follow the stream back to find it. Most men would probably think I'm tighter than a virgin after being with Sam for 24 years. If he didn't lick me, I'd never have an orgasm"
The silence was deafening. My face felt like it was on fire. Between the embarrassment and the anger, I'm surprised I didn't spontaneously combust. All eyes turned to look at me. I could see the pity and contempt in all of them. I looked at Claire. She seemed surprised at the depth of my emotion and brought her hand up to her mouth.
I tried to think of a proper response to Claire's ridicule, but was unable to manage any words. I wanted to go over and choke her with my bare hands. I had no idea why she denigrated me so badly, but it was more than I could endure. My anger began to gain over my humiliation. I turned and walked out the door before I could do or say something that I would regret forever.
As I pulled my car out the driveway, I could see everyone gathered on the porch, watching. Our house was only a few blocks away. Claire could walk it, get a ride, or just go straight to hell! I was so pissed I decided to not go home. I drove to a motel near the interstate and got a room. I turned my cell phone off and spent a restless night, managing very little sleep.
I got up with the sun the next morning. There was no sense staying in bed any longer, mentally replaying Claire's words from the previous evening over and over. Why would she slander me so badly? Could she really feel that my equipment was so inadequate? She had never mentioned it in our 24 years of marriage. It had only taken several glasses of wine to get her to reveal the truth, and that epiphany came in front of eight friends.
I checked my cell and saw that I had nearly a dozen messages from Claire. I just deleted them all without listening to them. I decided to turn my phone back on, just so I could have the pleasure of ignoring her. It rang a few minutes later.
I checked the called ID and saw it was the Bensons. They were calling at six AM? I suddenly worried that something could have happened to the kids. I answered the call.
"Sam! Where the hell are you, man?" asked Tim. "Claire is frantic. She said your phone was off and you didn't come home all night. She's worried that something happened to you."
"Well, Tim, something did happen. I was stabbed in the fucking back, and it hurts ... a lot," I added. "You can tell Claire she can go find a big cock, or better yet, she can go fuck herself!"
"Sam, nobody judges you by the size of your cock! You're still a better golfer than the rest of us. Shit, Sam, don't let it get to you."
If Tim was trying to make me feel better, he was doing a piss poor job! Apparently, he believed I had a small cock and was trying to think of reasons why it shouldn't bother me! I hung up on him and turned the phone off again. I went out for a breakfast then spent the day watching TV in the shit-hole room I had rented. It was fun to watch Tiger come from behind on Sunday to win, for a change.
I called in to work first thing Monday morning and requested a few days off. I needed to decide what the hell I was going to do. Living with Claire seemed out of the question. How can you live with a woman once you know that she has no respect for you?
I swung by the house around ten that morning. It looked like Claire had gone to work, so I parked down the street and walked back to the house. I looked in the garage window and saw that her car was gone. I went inside and packed a couple suitcases of my stuff and carried it down to the garage. I got my car and pulled into the garage, closed the door and started loading my car. I even had room for some of my tools and my guns. I didn't have any plans of using them, but I sure as hell wasn't going to leave them behind for some asshole to have.
I carried my bags into my motel room. I had decided to stay there a few days until I could formulate some sort of plan. Then I turned my phone back on, in case something truly important had happened. When you have kids, even if they are on their own like mine were, you still worry about them.
I deleted another bunch of messages from Claire and dropped the phone in my pocket. It rang within a few minutes. I saw it was my boss calling, so I answered it.
"Jesus, Sam! What's going on? Claire is here and she's pretty distraught. Did you leave her? What do you want me to tell her?" he asked.
"Give her the names of some of the guys with bigger cocks at work, would you, Boss? That should take her mind of me, and my itsy bitsy little peter," I responded sarcastically.
"Did you actually say guys with 'bigger cocks', Sam? Claire is right here and she heard what I just said. Now she's breaking down again, Sam," he reported. "What should I do with her?"
"Fuck her, Boss!" I snarled as I hung up the phone.
Shit! Now I'd probably lose my job over this mess. Why the hell did she have to go to my work, anyway? It was like she was trying to ruin my life. Then I decided two could play that game.
I jumped in the car and drove to the insurance agency where Claire worked.
"Hello, Sam," greeted Samantha, Claire's supervisor. "Claire isn't in yet. Can I help you?"
"Yeah, Samantha. Tell Claire that her needle-dicked husband was here. I want to see if I can get some sort of insurance if I have a cock enlarging operation and it goes south. Can I get any compensation for my tiny dick? It isn't much but it's all I've got."
Samantha turned red and coughed. Several others in the office went totally silent. It was obvious they had heard everything I had said. Samantha slowly responded to my outburst.
"That sounds like a personal problem, Sam. I hope you aren't serious, but if you are, I suggest a company like Lloyds Of London. When we say you're in good hands, it doesn't pertain to your genitalia. I'm sorry, Sam."
"Not as sorry as Claire is, I'll bet! Never mind a cigar, a goddamn cigarette is bigger than my dick. Maybe I can order some of that stuff that guy 'Bob' on the TV commercials uses," I mused aloud. "I'll order a truck load of the shit and take as much as I can. If I could get to three inches, I'd be delighted. Thanks anyway, Samantha."
I left everyone in Claire's office with their mouths opened as I walked out the door and hopped back into my car. I drove to Claire's parents' home.
"Sam! It's a surprise to see you here on a Monday," declared Steve Carey. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"
"I was just wondering if Claire has told you that I have a really little dick and she isn't happy with it?" I blurted out just as Nancy Carey walked up. "I don't know what to do about it. Should I just give her a divorce so she can find a guy with a good sized cock?"
"Sam, what are you talking about? Claire never mentioned anything about that, did she Nancy? Sometimes women talk to other women, Sam," admitted Steve.
.... There is more of this story ...