But I was desperate because it’d been a long time since I’d been with a guy. So after we finished our meal (Stephen got a vegan burger whereas I had my usual double-cheeseburger, medium-rare), we went back to my place for a supposedly hot and heavy session. “Supposedly” being the key word because the man was sadly lacking.
“Um, are you … you know … hard?” I asked hesitantly, not sure how to phrase things.
Stephen let out an unladylike giggle.
“What do you mean, am I hard?” he whined. “Of course I am! Although if you want to beat it a little more, we could do that,” he hinted.
But I’d already had that pencil dick in my hand for the last ten minutes, squeezing and massaging, and it just wouldn’t stiffen up. So giving up, I got on my hands and knees, facing away from him.
“Let’s just try,” I said, waggling my bottom at him. “Let’s see what happens.”
It couldn’t that bad, right? After all, I was desperate for relief. The ache in my cunt had reached titanic proportions, and I needed something in there that wasn’t my finger or a battery-operated boyfriend. Stephen rose to his knees behind me like a queen assuming the position.
“Okay,” he whined. “Here goes …. Unnnph! Oooh! Ahhhhh!” he squealed, grabbing my hips while moving forwards. But I didn’t feel anything. No dick tip probing my folds. No wet slide, no deep, hearty meat inside. Just nada, like I was watching a movie that had sound but no action.
I craned my head over one shoulder, puzzlement in my eyes.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said. “What’s going on?”
But Stephen was lost in ecstasy. His eyes rolled up, showing the whites, as his hips moved forwards and then back, and then forwards again.
“Ooooh!” he squealed. “Oh yeah!”
My mouth fell open from disbelief as realization dawned. Because I could feel and see his hips pistoning, and I could even hear the squeal of the springs as they went ee-eee! Ee-eee! I just wasn’t feeling anything because his dick was so small that I couldn’t even tell it was in! The realization blew my mind. Stephen’s dick was so pencil thin and tiny that the man was actually in my pussy at this very moment, and yet there was little to no sensation.
Any other woman would have scrambled off and away because who wants to go through twenty minutes of bad sex? But I was so shocked that I just froze, unmoving as the man enjoyed himself behind me. Was this really happening? Was I really having sex with a man whose dick was so small that I couldn’t even tell it was in? This had to be the Twilight Zone. I was living in some kind of alternate universe where there isn’t just bad sex, there’s terrible sex.
But it was true. And after ten more minutes of huffing and puffing, Stephen finally came. He pulled his dick out at the last minute and blew into the condom as his worm twitched.
“Eeeee!” he squealed with climax, neck muscles tight as that thin frame shook. “Eeee! Eeee!”
I craned my head once more to shoot him a disbelieving look. Because the condom had a couple dribs and drabs in it, but it was nowhere near full. In fact, I’d say it was almost empty, with just a few drops of white come lining the insides.
But Stephen was still shaking, his narrow chest tight and face flushed.
“Eeee!” he let out again for good measure.
And then I sprang into action. There was no reason to hang out anymore. I’d just subjected myself to awkward sex for no reason whatsoever. I could have had more fun with my battery-operated boyfriend at home, with maybe some porn on my laptop or a steamy scene from my favorite novel. Not this.
So I bolted from the apartment in a frenzy, slamming the door before leaning forwards and putting my hands on my knees like I’d just run a marathon. Hot gasps escaped my throat and my lungs burned with exertion. Oh my god. I’d just run out of my own apartment because I was so desperate to get away from the scrawny man and the less-than-satisfying sex session. Holy shit. It’d been that bad.
Fortunately, Stephen let himself out after ten minutes.
“Hey Mel,” he greeted me like nothing was wrong. “Great time tonight, huh? Maybe we can do it again next weekend.”
I gaped at him. Was he blind? Did he not notice that I’d been still as a statue the entire time? That my pussy didn’t contract at all? That my folds didn’t leak juices, desperate to get him inside?
But it was dark and at this point, it didn’t matter. I didn’t care if Stephen put me on his blacklist of cold-hearted snakes masquerading as women. So I flashed him a quick smile before darting back inside.