I came across a story, "Wife Sharing Nightmare" by Shock, a rework of another story, "Badfuck" by Karl Kramer. I was inspired to write my own version, to twist my own particular kink in the tale.
Size doesn't matter, except to the women to whom it matters. I learned that this month. I've learned a lot about penis size and women lately. Most I wish I could forget.
Joanie and I had been married for over twenty years. We were both virgins when we met in college. She was seeing someone else at home. He was pressuring her into marriage. She went with both of us for a while, seeing me at school during the week, and him in her hometown on weekends. But I won her heart and her virginity.
I graduated a year before her. I got my first job, and moved away. I played the field extensively, before satisfying myself that she was the one for me. She was never with anyone else during that time and I was secretly grateful. We got married just after she graduated.
My problems started just six weeks ago, at the mall. My wife and I have a game we play on escalators. With her on the step above me, I press up against her from behind. This puts her hand at just the right height to fondle my cock. We rode for several flights, surrounded by crowds, isolated within the handrail walls, with her stroking my erection. Usually I have a coat or shopping bag for concealment when we step off, or I just walk closely behind her, until things subside. This time my hands were empty, and she scampered off to a sale table, leaving me exposed.
We had a whispered argument among the racks of purses. I was upset about being seen with an erection in my Dockers. She wouldn't understand. "Your little thing," she said, "It's not like it's big enough for anyone to notice!"
After twenty years of marriage I had become too small for her, and I didn't know how. I had never seen another real man erect, so I had no basis for comparison. I just assumed I was average. From that point in time I was "Tiny." My cock was,
"that little thing" or "the teeny weenie," my erections became "small problems."
Our sex life didn't change much at first, until the day she first gave me deep throat. I was so stunned that I lost my erection. This was something she had never attempted, with me, before. A whole new skill. I was blown away by the ease with which she took all of me into her mouth and throat. Where had she learned this? Who had taught her? Who had she practiced on? How big must they have been, if she could take me so easily?
I accused her of cheating on me. She lashed out at me for not trusting her. She tearfully confessed that she was dissatisfied with me because she had never been with anyone else. She told me that her fiancee, had been bigger, and that she wished now that she had done more with him. She said I hadn't given her anywhere near the amount of orgasms she should have had.
We finally cobbled things back together. She told me I was all she ever really wanted, but I became obsessed. I read everything I could find on sexuality, on sexual technique, on women's sexual responses. I read dozens of articles and web pages with variations of the title "Does size matter?" I found surveys, tables, and charts and graphs on penis size: I was either dead average, or an inch below, depending on the author. One source said I measured up to the average thirteen-year-old!
I learned sensual massage, and techniques for the tongue and fingers. I attended a seminar on oral sex. I lurked in forums on hot wives, on cheating wives, and on swapping couples. I read too many stories about husbands who shared their wives with other, larger, men.
I felt I was in competition with every other man for my Joanie's affection. The idea of watching my wife with another man, and then proving my technical superiority over him, stuck in my mind. While I couldn't compete in size, my superior skills and knowledge would win my wife back. In one step, I could restore our relationship, both by giving her an experience with a large cock, and then proving that I was better.
Joanie was never really sold on this idea but she weakened. One night she finally said she would do it, for me, if this was what I needed to overcome my depression. I convinced her this was the only way to repair our marriage. I convinced her that there was nothing I wanted more.
I found the guy in the showers at the gym. He was a well-developed weight lifter. He was as long soft as I am hard. I invited him to the bar around the corner from the Gym, and after a few beers and a description of my pretty wife he agreed to participate. I could tell by the size of the bulge in his sweatpants that he had a tool big enough to help convince my wife that size wasn't what she needed, and to provide me the test I wanted. I stressed my wife's reproductive problems, and the absolute necessity of using a condom.
Saturday was her birthday, so I decided to set it up then. I called her from work and told her I wanted her to be dressed super sexy for me when I got home. My sweet wife agreed, not suspecting that I was bringing someone home with me.
When I got home, Joanie met me at the front door wearing a near see-through white teddy and very black panties that barely covered her crotch. Her prominent nipples made it obvious she wore no bra. She looked fantastic!
Even if I weren't planning to fulfill a fantasy that evening, she would have turned the littlr guy to stone with that outfit. I could smell that she was turned on herself. She gave me a big smile and a kiss, but then noticed the stranger standing behind me.
She abruptly pulled away and stepped back as I walked in with our new friend following. She turned her back, and fled upstairs. I called her back. She looked embarrassed, and said, "I don't feel properly dressed for company."
I introduced her to Hank, "He's not just company, you should stay."
Joanie remained confused for a moment, then realized what I had in mind. She stood awkwardly for a while, then uneasily took a seat on the living room couch, crossing her legs to cover her crotch. Hank and I sat down across from her. I wished her happy birthday. I told her that Hank was her present.
She looked upset. "Is he the right one? Is this what you really want?"
"This is what I want. This is what our marriage needs to survive." Then, strangely excited, I invited Hank,"Enjoy my wife." We had agreed in the bar that I was going to stay and watch.
He got up and went over to my anxious wife and sat down beside her. He immediately started playing with her firm breasts through the lace of her teddy. He moved her hand to the lump in his pants. He worried her breasts and nipples with his tongue and teeth.
Against her will, Joanie's nipples began to grow and harden. Her juices began to flow, I could tell. She was still very nervous. She looked to me, her eyes pleading with mine for help. I dismissed her plea with a head shake,"No"
Finally she sat back against the cushions on the couch, and let Hank have his way with her.
He wasted little time. He stood up, pulled Joanie's panties off and spread her legs apart. My lovely wife eyes opened in fright when as she was exposed! She looked at me, pleading as he dropped his pants.
I wasn't disappointed when I saw the size of his erection. It was completely hard and huge. My wife saw his over-sized tool too. She looked at me, worry in her eyes, trembling,"Please, NO." I just grinned and nodded.
She stared at me and begged, asking one last time, "Honey is this really what you want?"
I nodded again, and said in a husky voice, "Yes. Yes it is."
She looked deeply into my eyes. After a moment, very hesitantly, she lay back again. An expression of resigned acceptance crossed her face.
Hank finished climbing out of his pants. At the bar I had told him that he would have to use a condom because my wife wasn't on the pill. I had a vasectomy ten years ago, after a near fatal problem pregnancy. He'd agreed to use one.
Hank quickly pulled a condom out of his wallet and rolled it onto that monster cock between his legs. He stepped between Joanie's lovely thighs, grabbed her legs, placing them up over his shoulders.