Micro-Erotica for a Micro-Penis
“Marlyl!” my wife yelled. “Get in here!”
I had gone to make drinks so as to give Nevin and my wife some time to get to know each other, but the alarm in her voice shocked me.
Nevin had been charming and kind through dinner and I could see my wife was gradually slipping into his sphere. When he put his hand on her inner-thigh during our last drink, my wife sighed with such sexual intoxication, that, as I paid the bill, I had to lean against the bar to hide my erection. They were already making out in the taxi when my wife leaned over to me and whispered in languorous repose, “He’s a great kisser.”
But now my wife was screaming in terror. I dropped the drinks, jogged into the bedroom, and saw them both naked, except for my wife who still had on her black bra. Nevin looked calm, although slightly embarrassed, but my wife’s expression was that of a woman whose seen a rat in her shoe closet.
“I can’t do this,” she said.
“What?”
She clambered out of bed, threw on a robe, stood with crossed arms, and murmured, “He’s got a micro-penis.”
Nevin stood and faced us. It was true. His penis was the size of a large green grape.
We both looked at Nevin, who said nothing, obviously experienced with this kind of humiliating reaction. He had a strong, defined body, with muscles on his arms that shadowed and defined his abs like tin gutters. His face was gentle, but hardened by protein drinks and salads. His body was perfect in every way, except this one thing.
I couldn’t let this fall apart. With our schedules, we wouldn’t be able to do another threesome for weeks.
“He’s got to be good for something,” I said.
“Isn’t easy,” Nevin groaned. He had the look of someone on the brink so many times that instead of tipping over, he had only become used to to the abjectness.
“No,” I said to myself. “We have to make this work.”
I lead my wife back to the bed and laid her down on her stomach. She protested softly, but after fifteen years of marriage understood that she could sometimes benefit from my stubbornness. I spread her ass cheeks and looked at Nevin.
“Eat!”
Nevin nodded like a soldier who has narrowly escaped a court-marshal, relieved and ready for obedience. He fell between my wife’s legs and began to eat her ass. I turned on the bedside lamp for quality control; to make sure his tongue went deep. If he retreated for one minute, I grabbed his head and pushed him down harder. Nevin shoved his entire tongue into her and kept it there.
My wife moaned. This was one of her favorite things in bed and we often struggled to find men willing to do it.
“I could lie here like this for hours,” she sighed.
When my wife was ready to be fucked, she sat on my cock and Nevin inserted her favorite dildo into her ass, a sort of double-penetration by proxy. I had never seen her so wet. When she came, within minutes, she grabbed my neck with her right hand and Nevin’s neck with her left, and pulled us into her.
Nevin was stroking himself, although I wasn’t even sure how such a thing was possible. Soon I felt the warm stickiness of his semen dripping from my wife’s body and onto my stomach. I didn’t cum, but was ready to stop. We all collapsed on the bed. Between the lube and the cum, my wife’s pussy shined like a freshly pried abalone.
Once my wife had recuperated, she turned on her stomach and growled to Nevin, “Get back to eating.”
Nevin lifted his eyebrows as if to ask me for permission. I nodded and said, “You’re welcome back here anytime.” And his smile of ecstatic joy, tinted with redemption, was priceless.
