I’m Where You Belong

by Small Penis


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This story contains adult sexual content and should not be read by those under 18, or considered minors in their country or locale. If you are under 18: CLICK HERE

This fictional story is the artistic expression of the author who wrote it. The Small Dick Club strongly believes in freedom of speech, and the right of artists to be heard, especially if what they say pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable in society. If you think you won’t like the content of this story, then don’t read it. It’s that simple. The Small Dick Club wishes to advise readers that any similarities in these stories to actual or real people or events is purely coincidental and unintended. That any story marked as a ‘true story’ shouldn’t be taken literally, as we have no way to verify if stories submitted to us are true. The Small Dick Club takes no responsibility for the imaginations and literary creations of authors who post their stories here.
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by Pultoy

My name is Tom Teeter. My problems are at a lifetime, worst ever. I am living in the shadow of a divorce that has devastated, humiliated and embarrassed me more than I could imagine. My ex-wife has hurt me so badly that I honestly am not sure I can survive this grief that has descended on me.

I am 29, I stand 6’3″ and weigh 215 lbs. I have sandy hair, green eyes and am a guy who gets constantly flirted with, or at, by women young and old, married and single. The best looking women come onto me aggressively, without shame. It is something I’ve had happen since I was 18. I’ve been told by hundreds of women, over the years that I am quite good looking. I have a square jaw, smooth facial features, straight white teeth, a medium nose, and clean cut appearance. My chest and shoulders are broad and muscle bound and my pectorals are pronounced with nipples that women love to tease. I have washboard abs, a smooth body with no, or very little, body hair. My thighs and calves are well muscled and my butt is taut, small and round. The girls seem to love to look at me and tease me with their own alluring beauty.

Everywhere I go they flirt with me. Women offer me their phone numbers, their panties, their hotel room keys, a smell of their fingers after they remove them from under their skirt and glimpses of nipples or underwear, hairy and hairless pussy, regularly.

I resist the advances of women because of a unique problem that I have always had. I have a very small penis. When it is soft, it is maybe ½ inch long. Hard, at full mast, it grows to 3 inches. Erect, it is about as big around as a normal man’s big toe. My problem has always been this absolute humiliation.

My cock works fine; I pee like a racehorse and when I ejaculate I spew huge amounts of cum, I can squirt half a body length and am normal in all ways, except for my penis size.

When I have succumbed to some elaborate seduction, from time to time, and after some kissing and heavy breathing, when the woman gets a look at or feel of my little, erect penis, they laugh, they mock me and degrade me. It has served to give me the worst complex, and my cock only shrinks, not gets bigger.

Four years ago, I finally had suffered so much humiliation from women over my size that I’d pretty much accepted that I’d never be in a loving and happy relationship. I have normal urges, I love beautiful women as much as any man, but I’ve had so many nasty, vicious encounters that I decided it was easier to keep my distance from them and find a way to plough through each day without getting close enough to any one woman so that I could avoid the further destruction of my self-esteem.

I received my master’s degree in Engineering from the Colorado School of Mines in Golden, after getting my undergraduate degree at Colorado State University in Fort Collins, where I studied veterinary medicine, of all things. During high school, I was going to be a veterinarian, but after receiving my Bachelor of Science degree I decided I wanted to do something else. So, I applied for and was accepted to the School of Mines. With some work on the side to take the additional classes that I’d need, I received my Master’s two years after my four year degree. It was tough, but I am bright and capable and at 24 years of age, I was ready for the world.

I had so little social life in college because of the constant humiliation from girls when they saw my small cock, it left me with ample time to study. I did have lots of opportunities to date and bed women, but I was always so humiliated. I was still a virgin at 24. There I was; a virgin with a master’s degree, great looking and a problem for which I had no solution.

I got a great job with the Colorado State Highway Department. I became a project engineer, with a lot of say so and responsibilities when new roads and bridges were being planned and built. The Rocky Mountains present a lot of challenges for road building, so the need for someone with an education like mine is great and I have a bright future.

My salary was way more than most, $160,000 to start and with a few breaks I could be up to double that, or more, in the next 10 years.

As always, I was ‘the eligible bachelor’ wherever I went; Great looking, great job, no girlfriend all the greats, except…!

I just avoided women. It was easier.

April Blake was a flag girl for the project on which I first cut my teeth. We were adding a lane in each direction to Interstate 70 from Silverthorne to Vail, over Vail pass. The job was a logistical nightmare, because of heavy traffic, horrid weather, dangerous mountain conditions and the monumental (literally) obstacles in our path. April stood on the road with an octagon or diamond shaped, red, ‘stop’ or, orange, ‘slow’ sign for 8 hours each day, attempting to regulate the flow of, and to slow or stop traffic, and make the job site safe for the other workers.

April is a stunningly attractive and feminine woman. She is my age, tall-5’9″, 125 lean pounds, Hip length chocolate brown hair with dreamy light blue eyes, small ‘b’ sized breasts, petite round butt and bright white teeth with medium puffy lips. I saw a picture of Princess Kathryn of Great Britain and I thought April could be her sister. Their looks are very similar, only April is smaller breasted and maybe a little taller.

April was unfriendly and unapproachable to most men. She was so stunning looking that almost all men, young and old, hit on her, stared at her, and generally made her uncomfortable. She had become so weary of the come-on that she just wasn’t going to let anyone through her defences. What with me being pretty much the same way towards women, it was refreshing to me to be around a woman who wasn’t on the make. I relaxed around her and she relaxed around me over the months. I could actually say that I thought we were becoming friends. There was no covert sexuality between us, just professional and friendly banter.

Near the top of Vail pass, April was hit by a car one cold March day right as the sun was setting in the west and the sun was in the driver’s eyes. She was standing a little too close to traffic and the car was going too fast, the driver not paying attention and just clipped her, knocking her off her feet and about 4 or 5 feet to the side. The impact wasn’t real hard, but it did break her left thigh, which was the point of impact with her body and the car. She was in excruciating pain, laying there on the cold and snowy ground. I happened to be the closest to her when the accident occurred, first hearing her screams, then I looked and saw her writhing on the ground.

Dodging traffic, I ran to her and knelt beside her on the side of the road.

She was in so much pain she couldn’t speak, beyond “my leg, my leg” and she held onto her thigh with both hands.

I radioed for an ambulance but we, being so far from any medical facility, and with the traffic being so heavy, were informed that there was no way to get one up to us in less than two hours, or more, and then with traffic being what it was, and the distance to the hospital, it would take over two hours to get there after they picked her up from the scene.

I told dispatch to, “do what you have to do, we have a flag woman down, nightfall coming on and it is cold and windy up here on this pass.”

While I was talking, dispatch could hear April screaming, so the true gravity of the situation was clear.

Ironically, the governor, himself, Rolly Tancredo, was in the Highway Department’s office while I was talking to dispatch and he heard my radio transmissions. He heard April screaming in the background as I was describing the situation, and it was he, himself, who ordered the chopper. It was highly unusual for something like this to happen without a physician ordering the flight for life unit, but when the governor orders it, it can be done.

While we were waiting, I stabilised April’s leg the best I could. I used two shovels for splints, placing them along the left side of her body from her armpit to her foot. For the second part of the splint, I broke the handle off another shovel and placed it from her crotch to her foot.

I had an old shirt that I used for a rag in my pick-up, and used it to tie around the two handles and her leg up high on her thigh, next to her crotch. I needed something soft so her break wasn’t aggravated. Then I used ace bandage to tie around her calf, stabilising the two splints.

I had used the entire ace bandage out of the first aid kit in my pick-up so all I had left was yellow ‘caution’ tape, from the construction scene, for her upper body. I used about 100 yards of it and wrapped it around her torso and the handle just below and over her breasts.

By the time Flight for Life arrived, 55 minutes after the accident, April was going into shock. They gently loaded her onto the stretcher and into the helicopter. I told a sometimes conscious April that I would drive down the hill and see her at the hospital as soon as I could get there. Off they went.

It was after 8 pm when I got to the Swedish Medical Centre where they’d taken April. She was just out of surgery, where they had reset and pinned her broken thigh bone, and wouldn’t be awake until the next day, but they assured me she was going to be fine, so I went to my apartment, overlooking down town Denver and showered.

During the night I thought of how April and I were similar. Both of us quite attractive, yet, for our own reasons couldn’t find a mate. She, because she believed all men are liars and cheats, and me because of how I am treated by women when they discover my little penis.

Both of us found ourselves on the horns of a dilemma, and the situation didn’t seem that it would resolve itself in either of our lives.

I wondered, “Maybe this time”.

“Probably not” and I rolled over and dozed fitfully.

Since I was the road construction project’s main engineer, I had responsibility for many aspects of the project, including employee safety.

I walked into the hospital room of April Blake at 7:15 the next morning. Governor Tancredo was comforting April, holding her hand and speaking softly to her. She was in sort of a drugged daze, but I saw her look at me and a look of recognition sweep across her face.

The Governor turned to look at what she had noticed and saw me.

I nodded and he asked, “Are you her family?”

I told him, “Tom Teeter, Governor. I’m the project engineer on the I-70 project from Silverthorne to Vail; it’s a pleasure to meet you. How is our girl?”

“Oh, she’s not too alert yet this morning, but she’ll be ok. How could this happen, Tom? Don’t we have policies in place to protect these workers?” The Governor accusingly asked me.

“No, it’s not his fault. You leave him alone!” cried April from her fog. She had heard the governor’s accusing tone and words. “This was my fault for standing to close to traffic.”

“Interesting!” Said the Governor and then patted her hand and left the room, brushing by me as he walked by.

“April, how are you, are you in a lot of pain, sweetie?” I asked as I stepped to her side, grabbing her hand gently.

“The governor told me he was going to investigate this and hold the boss of this project accountable,” she slurred, “Then you walked in.”

“It’s ok, don’t fret. You just concentrate on feeling better, April; don’t you have any family here? Can I call someone for you?” I asked.

“No, my folks are gone and I had no brothers or sisters. You already know I don’t have a husband or boyfriend.” April replied drowsily.

In the next few days I was April’s only returning visitor. She was going to be released, but the doctors wanted her to have after-care. She was in a full cast from above her hips to her foot on her left side and would need care until the cast came off.

I talked to April about this and she didn’t know what she would do. We argued some about her coming to my place where I could care for her until she could get on her feet.

I had thought about it and offered to have her come to my place, because I really couldn’t see that she had any other options. I could let her have my bed and I’d take the couch and be able to take care of her until she could get around on her own. She finally relented, because she was about to be released and just had nowhere else to go.

It would only be 6 weeks or so, but she’d need care every day. Not necessarily around the clock care, but she couldn’t cook for or clean herself and she was bed bound for the time being.

There didn’t seem to be any other alternatives. She had little money, and because of her admission to the governor that it had been her fault, the State had notified her that worker’s comp was not an option that she could use to pay for rehabilitation. They’d hold her job, and pay her basic medical bills, but she was on her own as far as after care.

So, I took her home. The ambulance transported her and wheeled her into my apartment on the gurney. All I had were the doctor’s basic instructions and prescription meds. The rest was up to April and me to improvise.

There is no way to improvise when someone has to shit. When she has to pee, she just can’t get up and go. I had to be involved. So, I’d put the pan under her, pulled it out when she was done, wiped her butt, patted her pussy dry and bathed her beautiful body, to her great humiliation and embarrassment. I cooked and tended to her when I was home at night and on the weekends.

During the week days, I hired an elderly neighbour woman, Myrtle McComb, to come in and sit with April. She had always been very friendly and seemed plenty lonely, having been widowed for a few years. I paid her $60 per day, she was so glad to get it. She would come over at 7 am and stay until I got home, usually around 6. I paid in cash and she didn’t have to report it on her social security. All she had to do was help April use the toilet, in bed, clean her when she did and cook a little lunch, and keep the place cleaned and the laundry washed and folded. The rest of the time, she would just spend with April. She was so lonely that she was delighted to be there, and earning a whole $60 too.

It was good for her. It was good for April, it helped me and I could easily afford it.

Of course, April was torn between embarrassed and humiliated; yet grateful beyond words. She was in a tough spot but all we could do was just put our time in and get through it. I covered for her, never letting her be embarrassed or humiliated because of me teasing or smirking nor gave I any indication of my amusement.

I reassured her constantly that it was “ok, nothing to be ashamed about, it’s natural; glad I can be here to help you.”

I became more and more familiar with April; all of April. I learned about her past, her life’s heartbreaks and triumphs, her anger with men, and about her running to Denver from Council Bluffs, Iowa to get away from all the wolves, men, after her folks had passed away.

I also learned a lot about her body. I washed and rinsed her 3 feet long, rich brown hair, dried and brushed it for her, gave her massages so she wouldn’t get bed sores, washed her face and neck, her armpits, her breasts, her belly and beneath the cast as far as I could reach, washed her right leg, her ass and her exposed pussy. I even shaved her armpits and her uninjured leg. The girl was pretty much helpless most of the time. Added to that, April was on pretty heavy doses of pain meds, so she was toasted much of the time.

As the days passed she became a little more relaxed around me. Her embarrassment faded some and she just let me do my job of cleaning her and tending to her, though she always expressed her thanks and gratitude along with her regrets and ‘sorrys’.

On day 8, I noticed April was lubricated when I was about to wash around her pussy. I could smell the delicious aroma of her arousal. Because of the cast, she couldn’t bend at the waist and service herself at all, and her arms weren’t long enough to reach past the cast to touch herself there.

I took note of her lubrication and when I touched her pussy to wash it, I realised that her labia were engorged, her clitoris stood out and moisture leaked from her opening, running down between the cheeks of her ass and onto the sheets of my bed. The aroma of her arousal was highly charged with eroticism for me.

I looked up and she had put her hands over her nipples and was pulling and twisting at them, sucking in deep breaths and moaning slightly, her back arched and her head pushed deeply into the pillow.

I asked, “April would you like a little relief?”

“Oh, Tom; I am so sorry to ask, but yes, please. I just cannot help myself. You have done it all, would you mind just helping me with this until I can do it on my own? I’ve been self-reliant for so long, and now, I’m helpless.”

“Sure.” was all I said.

I lay the wash cloth aside and touched her pubic mound with the palm of my hand, laying it all at once over her entire Mons.

She groaned loudly spreading her one good leg, and ground herself into the centre of my hand, into my palm. I pushed and could feel the hard little nub of her clit. I moved my hand around in circles and up and down. She was soaking but the liquid could not escape because my hand had created a seal and her moisture built and built as I continued to apply steady pressure to her and circle slowly. What she could do to help was move slightly and she continued to grind into me.

April came with a violent shout and spasm. When she did, she immediately cried out in pain as the convulsion put pressure on her broken thigh bone. Her orgasm chased quickly away, because of the intensity of her pain in her leg. She cried so hard.

My heart really went out to April. This girl was in a bind. I could see she was a real trooper and was in an impossible place. No sexual relief, terribly embarrassed about her very bodily functions and not able to get relief. She was a trooper, but at this moment, she was beaten. As the intensity of her orgasm and the pain subsided, she drifted off from her sobs into a drugged slumber.

It reminded me of me. I was in an impossible place, too. I was falling in love with her; she, a willow fox and me a small dicked wonder boy. I left her and went into the bathroom and masturbated. I did not soften after I came, my arousal was so very heightened, so I masturbated some more, and after 15 minutes I came again. Then, I wept alone in the bathroom.

The darkness was thick. I was roused from my slumber and I heard April from the bedroom, “Tom, could you help me please? Tom?”

I woke from my sleep, ran from my bedroll on the couch to the bedroom and landed on my knees at her bedside.

“What’s wrong, April? Are you in pain? What is happening?”

“I need to use the toilet. I’m so sorry, Tom. I hate to wake you but I can’t wait.”

” ‘S ok, April…here raise your leg up.” as I slid the basin beneath her luscious little behind.

She began to pee and it dribbled down her body into the basin. I could smell her previous arousal strongly in the room and now, that smell mixed with the odour of urine. She farted as she urinated and apologised, so embarrassed. Her dignity was totally spent. But, I was falling in love. Finally I met someone who was being every bit as abased as I had been all my life and I did not find her predicament funny, I empathised and covered for her trying with all I knew to build her up and not let her crumble in despair.

There was no doubt; she deeply appreciated my gentleness, in spite of her humiliation. Often, she expressed her sorrow for my constant long suffering in her behalf.

It endeared me to her even more, though I could really say nothing to her about it. She and I both were relegated to our private thoughts. They were all the privacy she really had, and for me, my private thoughts were a prison.

At the end of the second week in my apartment, April had an appointment back at Swedish Medical Centre for a follow-up, and possibly, to change her cast. The ambulance came in and picked her up. I followed in my pick up.

They removed the cast and washed her all over, letting her scratch all her itches. They applied lotion to her delicate skin. Then, they put another full cast on her, from above her hips to her ankle on the one leg, saying it would be two more weeks like it had been. Then, in two weeks they probably would just put a full leg cast on, from her crotch to her ankle. But, for now, we had two more weeks of the same old same old. She was not overjoyed. I, secretly, was delighted.

She still had all the pain meds she wanted, but her pain was becoming less of an issue and she actually used less of them than they had prescribed. We got her home and settled. Myrtle had changed the sheets and she even turned the mattress while we were gone. That woman was remarkable. She had opened the windows and aired the place out. The air in the apartment was so fresh and nice when we got back.

Though April was depressed about two more weeks in the full cast, Myrtle had really gone above the call of duty and it made things a little better for us all. April was so grateful. Like I said, I was delighted.

After April had been back from the 2 week appointment for about 4 days, I noticed that her pussy was very lubricated and swollen again on a Saturday, when I went in to help her use the toilet and bathe.

I was just in spandex jogging shorts and nothing else, so my chest and legs were visible to her as well as my butt. It was tightly encased in the shorts I wore. I guess she was peering a bit at me and when I patted her dry after she urinated I could smell her arousal and see moisture leaking from her vagina.

I asked, “oh, aren’t you done peeing April?”

“Oh, yes, I am finished. I’m just so aroused this morning. Would you mind helping me relieve again please?”

“Ok, I will if you are sure you won’t hurt yourself again.”

“This time, don’t tease me; just rub me good and hard. Put your fingers inside me. I won’t let myself jerk like that again. I’m so horny” April moaned, squirming and biting her lower lip.

I slipped a finger up and down her soaked slit and when I touched her clit, it was like an electric shock to her. She jerked a little and began twisting her nipples, this time she had put her hands underneath her shirt. She was humping and moaning and leaking like a sieve.

I crawled onto the bed and got between her legs. I put two fingers in her pussy and with my other hand I circled around and then directly onto her clit. She came quickly, within 2 or 3 minutes. She was careful not to lose control and did not let herself convulse.

“Oh, that was nice. Please, don’t stop.” She begged.

I thrust two fingers in and out of her and continued playing with her clit. With the two fingers inside her, I used my index finger and curled it inside her in a ‘come here’ type of motion. I continued wagging it back and forth inside her and after two minutes or so, she screamed, in the throes of a simultaneous clitoral and g-spot orgasm. She squirted vaginal fluid all over my hand, wrist and arm to my elbow, soaking her sheets and covers.

Slowly, I withdrew my fingers.

I was lying between her legs in a puddle of her juices and it was uncomfortable. Add to that, I was randy as a Billy goat so I got up on the pretense of getting clean sheets and blankets. I went into the bathroom and began pounding on my little cock.

April loudly said, “Tom, I want to help you too. I know what you are doing; why not let me suck on it for you?”

I stepped out of the bathroom, “It’s ok, April” I said very sadly. “I don’t expect that from you. I can help myself and you can’t help yourself.”

“No, Tom. It isn’t right. You more than deserve anything I can do to help you back. I want to. Please, come over here and let me suck on it.”

I was in a jam. My back was against a wall. Everything that had happened with April, for me, hinged on this moment. If she recoiled in shock at my small cock, I’d melt. Everything, all my self-esteem was on the line at this moment. She, laying there helpless in my bed had absolute sway over me. Just her slightest hesitation, the hint of an evil, make fun of me grin, any negative response on her face, I was gauged to read and then stand rejected and dejected.

“I am so embarrassed, April. My cock is very small and most women ridicule me when they see it.” I confessed.

“It’ll be no problem, Tom. Don’t you worry. You have helped me through the most embarrassing things I could ever have imagined and this size issue is no mountain with me, it is only one with you. Come here, baby. Let mama make it all better.”

“Gosh, hope. I’ve fallen into the well of hope. Maybe I have earned a chance at acceptance. Maybe, finally I can live a normal life with someone who loves me in spite of my shortcomings.” I wished silently to myself. (Don’t laugh at the shortcomings thing; I was serious.)

I walked to the head of the bed and she reached out and caressed the outside of my shorts. She blinked when the discovery that ‘not too much is in there’ became reality to her. But, she didn’t laugh or mock me.

“She’s just dealing with it. Give her a moment.” I thought.

She reached her hand to the waistband of my jogging shorts and pulled the front of it down, to expose my fully erect, engorged and raging 3 inch manhood. She asked me to help get my shorts off and she caressed it with such tenderness and care. She patted the bed and I got on it with my knees next to her head.

I nearly wept as she sucked my small penis into her mouth, all of it, and suckled it like I might her nipple.

I exploded into her mouth, My seminal fluid came squirting out of her mouth and nose. She coughed and sputtered at the huge amount of semen that I released. It must have gotten up her sinuses because her eyes were watering and I could see a little dribble of white coming out of her nose. Well, I had shot pretty hard when I came; she probably wasn’t ready for that.

I waited for some sign of her rejection; some anger at my copious volume released into her mouth. But none came. She actually seemed very happy that she could do something for me, and I loved that she was so kind about it.

We talked about my small penis and for the first time in my life, I felt accepted. She said, “It doesn’t bother me. Don’t worry about it. I enjoy playing with it very much and you sure enjoy it, so that is all that matters.”

She also said, “You are so good with your fingers and hands, I am not being shorted a bit here.”

I blinked at her when she said that, but she never let on that she was making fun of me. I thought, “Maybe she didn’t even realize what she had just said.”

April and I got through her being laid up. I lost my virginity to her after her full cast was off and just her leg cast was on. She was kind and patient and loving, everything I could want, and more. I put my tiny little cock in her and all I felt was a sea of warm moisture. She must have felt nearly nothing. But I came so hard.

I was able to please her with my hands and fingers. She taught me how to orally please her and she was a wild woman when I finally got my lessons right. She nearly broke my neck bucking and pitching.

One time, when she came with my mouth on her pussy, she squeezed my head between her good leg and her cast and nearly cracked my skull. I had a sore neck so bad that I had to go to the chiropractor.

She did laugh about that. I just kind of smiled wanly.

Finally, April was out of her cast and on her feet. It took her a while to gain her strength and recoup her tone and stamina. But, she worked at it and was back to 100% in about 6 months.

April and I were married by Colorado’s new Governor, Nancy Markey. Our marriage was the Governor’s first official act and we were privileged to have her perform our ceremony.

My salary was creeping up, and we bought a house in the suburb of Arvada. We lived close to the foothills and I thought life was about as good as it could possibly be.

April was so pretty. All the men continued to harass her. Everywhere she went; men fell over themselves to look at her, to talk to her. They’d find an excuse to hold a door or offer any little tid bit of help; all for a nod from her, some recognition.

We’d been married 3 years. We made love often. She seemed to love to take my cock into her mouth, suck hard on it and make me squirt. She’d learned to keep it out of her sinuses and loved getting me off that way. Vaginal sex really didn’t seem to be her thing, though she loved my mouth and my fingers on her pussy.

I thought we were doing great. We weren’t.

April began sneaking around on me in our third year of marriage. She’d finally succumbed to the advances of another man.

After we were married and she was fully healed, April found another job in a Coors Beer warehouse as Payroll and accounts Payable clerk. One of the drivers has the reputation that he has a ‘donkey dick’. I guess April’s thoughts of a lifetime of almost no dick inside her, ever, were more than she could take and she went for the gold. A really big cock was too much to resist, when compared to what I was offering.

‘Donkey dick’, Reed Rathboth, had had a lifetime of female conquests and April was the winning prize of them all. She, by far, had to be the most gorgeous creature he had ever bedded and when he finally got her, she fell for his huge cock harder than anything she had ever had happen. She was in a daze. All she could think about was that cock.

April never really said anything to me, she just mentally checked out. She was there, in our home, in our bed, occasionally having some meaningless little sex with me, but she was not present in mind or even, really, in body. She stopped having orgasms with me.

I increased my tempo, licking and sucking and manipulating with my hands and fingers to no real avail. She was unmoved. She did not complain, she did not deny me my husbandly due, she just wasn’t impressed. I had lost her and never even had a clue how. It went on for a couple of months like that.

I was friends with a Colorado State Trooper who appreciated my efforts to improve the state highway system, making it safer for motorists. His lifetime goal was to reduce Colorado highway fatalities and my job was to create safer roads. So we hit it off and found we had a lot in common.

I saw Jack Carville, the trooper, one afternoon and he said, “Brother, you are one glum dude. What is up with you?”

“Jack, something is wrong in my marriage. My wife has just checked out. I have no idea what is up. We don’t talk, we don’t fight, we still have sex, but she has changed so thoroughly it is like I never even knew this woman. I am stumped.” I opined.

“Maybe she is sick, Tom. Maybe you need to get her in to see a doc and run some tests.” He offered.

“You know, that is a great idea. I never thought of that. Thanks, Jack.” I replied.

“Honey, I want us to go in and get physicals. I want to make sure we are doing ok. After 3 years they can examine your leg and we can just see that our bodies are hitting on all cylinders. Never hurts to keep up with things in this day and age.” I offered to April that night.

“Why? Nothing’s wrong with me. You ill? Something wrong with you?” she asked.

“No, I just want to make sure. It’s called preventative maintenance. Let’s go for a check up and just get physicals together; It’ll be good.” I said.

“I don’t see why, but schedule them if you want.” She said.

I did schedule them. She had gonorrhoea. I’d never been with another woman. She was cheating. I had gonorrhoea in my mouth; I was cautioned that it could lead to tongue cancer or throat cancer depending on if she had HPV. They were still running that test. Ultimately, I was fortunate and she did not have HPV.

“So, who are you fucking?” I threw the papers on the kitchen table in front of her.

She looked at them. “Oh, my … Tom, I’m sorry.” She said with shock, wide eyed.

“What’s up April? I thought you were the little miss ‘tired of being pursued by every man on earth’. Somebody broke through; How and when and where and most of all WHY?” I yelled.

“Tom, you’re just so small. I need more than your fingers and your tongue. I need my itch scratched. You are too small to satisfy me. He has a huge…er, um, dick but you are a, a…baby dick” She chuckled at that. She had made a joke and laughed at her own joke.

That hit me like a George Foreman right cross. I fell into a pit of despair. The old familiar ring of hopelessness surrounded me. In one moment of time, my boat was swamped.

I fell silent, I left the house. I hired a pit bull attorney and I filed for divorce. I hid money, cancelled accounts, and changed my retirement portfolio. She fought for finances and property.

I was humiliated. When she had been humiliated I covered her shame with gentleness, soothing care and compassion. She exposed mine.

During the divorce hearing, my lawyer drew her out. She had told all the men at the Coors warehouse how small I am. Her lover and she regularly made fun of me, laughing and crushing me with their cruelty.

Her disdain for me showed itself during her testimony. She sneered at me in court and made fun of my ‘itty bitty teeny weeny weenie.’ The whole courtroom erupted in laughter. My humiliation was absolute.

She got very little of my rapidly accumulating wealth, thanks to my very proficient lawyer, who explained our relationship to the judge from start to end. He did believe that I had greatly helped her, probably saved her from a horrible experience when her leg was broken.

The judge witnessed, for himself, her courtroom behaviour and her unnecessary contempt for me. She got her own IRA and $30,000; Ten thousand for each year of our marriage. I had to buy her half of equity in the house in Arvada, since she couldn’t buy my half, and she got her car and personal effects.

I kept the apartment down town, since I owned it before our marriage. There was no alimony and the break was clean after court that day.

Clean, except one thing was intact…my low self-esteem and, eventually, my rage.

How does love; deep-personal-pure and wholesome love, turn into a rage? I think it happens because it is one sided, and based on unequal need. One person needs more than the other and eventually it weighs down the relationship, it eventually capsizes.

I believe that is what happened to April and me. My need to be accepted was greater than her need to be left alone by the wolves.

I think her “need” to be aloof from men, was a game she was playing within herself. In reality, she knew she was going to get the pick of whatever litter she decided to take, and was just playing a game in her own mind, “who will it be, who will it be.”

Somewhere I came along, crept into her heart, and awakened her sexuality. But, I never satisfied her sexually, so she settled for a dumb infected fucker with a huge cock. If I had it right, she’d soon discover that she had made a mistake.

Her mistake was based on the fact that we were friends before we were lovers. When she, as part of the friendship had a need after breaking her leg, I met her needs with no preconditions, no expectations. Just doing what friends do for one another.

Then, it turned sexual. She awoke from a hormone frozen existence and fell off the deep end, into wholesale sexual arousal, abandoning her heart’s needs and her life long held principals.

My guess, “she’ll be crawling back. Once she finds that all he has in her lover is a cock and no brain, no heart, she’ll find that what we had was love.”

She will not find love, because other men will repress whatever else she is or could be, because of her beauty. But I cultivated her talents and her capacity to love, I loved her unconditionally, sex or no sex. Her beauty was a benefit to me, but I loved her heart and her spirit long before I lusted after her beauty.

“Tom, it’s me, April.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, how you been?”

“Living the dream, April. You know me”.

“Tom, I do know you. I know you aren’t living a dream. You must be in a nightmare.”

“Ya?” I denied.

“Tom, I’ve come to my senses. I fucked up. I fucked you up and I fucked me up. Tom, I love you. Forgive me. Take me back. Please, I lost my mind, I lost my soul. I ‘ve lost my one true friend and I hate my life.”

“Hmm, What’s at stake here for me, do you think? Oh, sanity, THAT’S right. I keep forgetting.” I sarcastically retorted.

“Tom, honey, you need me I know you do. Tom, I need you every bit as bad, believe me I see that now.”

“I don’t know April. You pretty well emasculated my ‘huge’ male ego; didn’t leave me anywhere to hide. I might decide to hurt you now. Where did you say you are?” I asked threateningly.

“Life is pointless without your love, Tom. How hard it has been for me to realize that. How completely I do now realize it and acknowledge it. Your heart more than compensates for ANYTHING that you think relegates you to second place. It has been a hard lesson for me to see that. Tom, you are the largest, biggest, best man I’ve ever met. And, I totally fucked with that; I totally, totally disrespected you. Is there any glimmer in your heart left for me?” April begged.

“I wish you were helpless in my bed right now, like you were 4 years ago. Knowing what I know now, I’d destroy you. You may know my weaknesses, but I know yours, too. I’d get you helpless in my bed and when I finish, dear April, you’d be like me, helpless AND ruined.”

“Oh, Tom, I’m so sorry for what I’ve done, please forgive me.”

“Ya? You are? Sorry is too little and too late. I do NOT forgive you. I do NOT want you back. I am a danger to you; do NOT show up around me, you won’t survive it.”

“Warning you now is the very last nice thing I will do for you, April. You are dead to me. If I have to actually do that I will. You must have been the hope of joy to your father, yet you’ve became the desolation of destruction to your best friend, me.”

She heard the dial tone, nothing more.

The lovely April Blake/Teeter: At 29 years old; unfit in all ways. Her life ruined by foolishness. Her sense of fulfilment was but a distant and fading memory. For her, Joy was now unattainable, peace not available, love not knowable.

“Perhaps, it would be best if I just ended it here. I hurt him, the one I love, so bad. He won’t recover, and why should he? I betrayed his precious gift of trust and faithfulness. How could he recover and why should he even if he could?”

“Indeed, why should I ever recover?” April anguished to no one.

April wandered down town, in Denver. She had no place she wanted to go, just ambled into down town, crying and mourning.

Some street preacher was saying, “‘Come unto me, you who are heavily laden and burdened and I will give you rest,’ the Lord said.”

She stopped and listened to him for a bit as he preached inviting people around to hear his message of Redemption and Mercy and Grace.

He looked at her. “Young woman, what troubles you so?” he asked.

“Why would you bother me? I am just standing here listening. Leave me be.” April replied.

“Have you a place to stay? Have you eaten? Are you in trouble?” he asked.

“I do have a place to stay, I am not hungry and I am in desperate trouble, if you must know.” She replied.

“There are answers for your troubles young lady. There is a place of spiritual rest for your obvious weariness too. There is joy and peace for your unhappy sorrow.”

“Oh, why don’t you shut the fuck up?” April yelled. And she ran hurriedly away sobbing.

“I’ll pray for you, daughter” Bill Wilkerson cried after her. “Come back any time.”

“Lord, I pray for that young woman. She, like we have all done to You, has gone astray and seeks her acceptance back into someone’s loving arms. Father, soothe that woman’s husband, and her, with that Balm of Gilead over their wounded soul and bring them to the knowledge of Your love, Your Mercy and Your Forgiveness.” Bill prophetically prayed.

All Heaven stood silent as those words, pleading for God’s own chosen, resounded in the Ears of the Almighty One.

April cried all the way to her car and drove home sobbing and crying. She fell into her bed, numb.

Into her pillow, she said, “God, if you are real, would you please look down on me and make yourself known to me. I have done my husband wrong and it didn’t start there, I’ve done folks wrong all my life and it has hurt me worst of all. It’s time to stop this cycle of self-destruction, and destruction of others, especially the one I love the most, and I need you to lead me and direct me, please; In Jesus’ name, Amen.” She was asleep with her very next breath.

Tom laid the night away shaking and quivering on the bathroom floor of his apartment in down town Denver. Tom Teeter had had a stroke at 29 years old.

Myrtle used her key and let herself in to Tom’s apartment to sneak around and see what he had in is apartment the next morning. She figured he’d gone to work by then and she liked to go in there and snoop through his things. He’d given her a key when she was helping take care of April and she had never given it back to him.

“My God, Tom, what’s happened, are you all right?” Myrtle was startled when she saw him lying on the bathroom floor.

Tom mumbled but made no sense. Something was obviously wrong. She saw that he had both shit and pissed himself. Myrtle dialled 911 and Tom was taken to University Hospital.

“Promising young state road engineer found clinging to life in his down town apartment” read the headlines of the following morning’s Denver Post. Tom’s file photo was beside the article, it was the lead story, top half, and front page.

April’s boss called her into his office and asked if she’d seen this morning’s headline, tossing the paper across his desk. With horror she recognised her ex-husband’s face and the headline. She ravenously read the article.

“Mr. White, can I please have the day off. I need to go to the hospital and see after Tom?” she pleaded with shaking hands and pale face. Tears streaming already down her cheeks.

Not waiting for an answer, she ran from her boss’ office and to the parking lot. Crying all the way, she made the 40 minute drive to UCH without hitting anyone or anything, to her surprise. She ran into the hospital and asked for the stroke ward.

“2nd floor on your right out of the elevator miss.” The security guard pointed to the elevator doors.

April dashed into the stroke ward, up to the nurses desk and the desk clerk saw her panic. She recognised what would be a bad situation for whomever patient was about to receive this person.

April asked, “Tom Teeter where is he? I’m his wife.”

“I’ll get the doctor Mrs. Teeter, wait here please.”

April waited, pacing.

“Mrs. Teeter, I’m Dr. Gary Ortiz. I am treating Mr. Teeter. Are you and our patient together, ma’am?”

“No, we’ve divorced, but have been talking about reconciliation recently. He needs me doctor, I need to see him and to be here for him.” April begged, tears flowing onto her blouse.

“Your ex-husband is resting at this time. We’ve sedated him heavily and are still assessing the severity of the stroke, Mrs. Teeter. At this time, it appears to have been somewhat less than a massive stroke. He has feeling in his extremities, but he cannot communicate yet. That is not uncommon in the first few hours and days. We need to continue to observe him carefully.”

“Ok, thank you so much doctor. Please tell me where he is so I can go to him and comfort him.” April asserted.

“Right now, I am ordering no visitation until we are sure he is stable. Since you are estranged from him we are not obligated to provide you with access. First our responsibility is to our patient and secondly to the family. Until Mr. Teeter can provide us positive feedback about his desire to see you, we cannot allow you in with him, I’m sorry, ma’am.” Dr. Ortiz firmly replied.

“Ok, I understand. Can I wait somewhere? Will you come get me when he comes around? I’ll just be here waiting.” April relented.

“You can wait in the general waiting area in the lobby downstairs, Mrs. Teeter. I need to see to my patients.” Dr. Ortiz dismissed her and turned to leave.

The desk clerk heard the conversation and Ortiz caught her eye as he turned. His facial tic was clear that Mrs. Teeter was not allowed in to this ICU.

As awareness returned to Tom Teeter, he woke from his sleep, he could tell things weren’t the same as before. And, he felt an intrusion around his groin; he heard beeping and whirring noises. Immediately on opening his eyes, a young male nurse was at his side.

“Mr. Teeter, I am Brian. I am your day nurse and you are in University of Colorado Hospital. You’ve had a stroke Mr. Teeter, but it wasn’t too severe and you should make a full recovery. I need you to be a good patient and listen to me, ok?”

Tom, tried to talk, could not so he just nodded. He grabbed for the area around his groin and Brian stopped his hand.

“Mr. Teeter, you have a catheter. It is in your bladder so we can assure that your body functions. We will remove it as soon as you are fully awake and we are sure you can void when you need to. Just be patient. Things are strange for you but you are doing just great.”

April waited in the lobby. She knew she dare not make even one miss-step. If she could get the opportunity to nurse Tom back to health, things might be ok. She needed an opportunity to do for Tom what he’d done for her. Love him through his humiliation, his shame and embarrassment. “Give me that chance, Lord, give me that chance.”

Tom spent 1 week in the hospital ICU and 4 weeks in rehab adjoining the hospital. He had indicated to the medical staff, as soon as he could communicate, that April was not to be admitted to see him, whatsoever at all. When they spoke of her to him, they noted his blood pressure and heart rate climbed to alarmingly dangerous levels, so they took their cue and distributed her picture from the security camera videos around to all personnel stationed by all entrances to the facility that she was persona non grata; not to be admitted.

Tom’s rehabilitation was going well. The psychiatrist assigned to most new stroke patients, Dr. Harold Smythe, detected that the only real threat to Tom’s health was the unusual reaction his cardio vascular system had when his ex-wife was the subject. The Doctor wrote in Tom’s chart that, “everything possible should be attempted to keep Tom safe from her intrusion until he was sufficiently recovered enough to manage his own security.” Meanwhile, the psychiatrist was trying to find a way to relieve Tom of some of the pressure that was associated in his mind concerning his ex-wife.

Dr. Smythe searched his notes and finally Tom’s chart for any clue that might infer an answer about Tom’s unusual fixation of hatred for April Teeter. He sat down with the entire chart, encompassing from the time Tom was admitted until and through the last notes from rehabilitation. It was an extensive file and he intended to read every word, if need be to find some clue.

The psychiatrist did not have far to read. There, on the morning of admission, 5 weeks previous, the notes from the ER nurse: “In attempting to catheterise the patient, we found his sexual organ to be extremely small. His urethra is of normal size and testicles are normal. We had trouble getting the catheter tubing inserted into patient’s urethra because there was so little to hold onto to get the catheter started.”

Dr. Smythe reasoned that Tom’s divorce might well have had something to do with the male issue of size and the wife’s possible infidelity or some ongoing struggle about the size of Tom’s genitalia, between them that finally pushed Tom over the edge. In any case, Dr. Smythe was betting that Tom’s issues with April were now identified. The doctor was confident that he could treat Tom, now that he had a foothold as to where Tom’s insecurities lay.

Tom saw Dr. Smythe every day, 5 days per week for 8 weeks after that discovery and twice per week for 3 months after that, then once per week for 3 more months. Dr. Smythe identified with Tom, shared pertinent studies and information with him about male size and the effects on a man’s ability to be normal. Tom wept bitterly as he recalled dozens of incidences throughout his life that brought him to shame and embarrassment. People were cruel, mean.

After almost 80 sessions with Dr. Smythe, Tom finally, to his credit and mental well-being, disclosed fully his relationship with April. He started from the beginning and went all the way through the end of the marriage, cleansing himself of the bitter hurt and terrible pain suffered. Dr. Smythe, more than any person alive, knew about Tom’s deepest pain, most haunting self-doubts, and understood Tom’s hatred for the woman with who he once had such soaring hopes for sharing happiness.

Tom had regained over 90% of his motor skills and they told him in another year he should have close to 100% recovery. It was a matter of retraining his body where skills were lost due to the stroke. His physical health was good and his prognosis was excellent. Tom was young and fit going into this, so he should be able to have a perfectly normal life afterwards, if he managed his stress.

Dr. Smythe counselled him intensely about losing emotional control over April. Smythe was aware that Mrs. Teeter had made repeated efforts to see and talk to Tom; he knew she was repentant and wanted to be available to Tom for any of his needs in rehabilitation.

Finally, Tom agreed with the doctor that it would be important for him to finally, once and for all have that conversation with April and face this horrible demon of doubt and hurt, anger and desire for revenge.

April closed her Bible after reading, “Love covers a multitude of wrongs.”

“Forgive me Father for my sins against You and my husband. Love him through me, Jesus. Let his suffering be to YOUR Glory in the end of all this, let me now be an instrument of YOUR Peace. Amen.”

April stood in front of the door, ready to knock on the door to Tom’s apartment.

Tom opened the door, “April, you look so pretty today. Come in.”

“Thank you, Tom. I am so happy to see that your recovery appears complete?” she turned the statement to a question at the last.

“Yes, they tell me I’ll make a full recovery, thank God”.

Silently, “thank God, indeed.” She thought while smiling.

“Can I offer you coffee or soda or something?” Tom asked.

“Water, Tom, Please, or whatever you’re having. Thank you.”

Tom sat her water in front of her on the table and sat down across from her, nothing in front of him. There was silence for a few moments, an uneasy quiet.

Here they were, two dear friends, become lovers, become spouses, become bitter enemies who’d inflicted egregious pain on one another, sitting across the table with little to say: She, afraid to say the wrong thing, he, exercising control of his emotions not needing to fill the void with words. A year had passed since they’d been in the same room, alone together. She had asked for the meeting, the floor was hers.

“Tom, do you have any needs?” she queried.

“Yes, of course, April. I have many needs.” His answer was direct, not offering more than she asked.

“I mean, can I be of any help to you?” April tried again.

“Well, April. I can answer that in at least 2 ways, right? One way, ‘yes’ and tell what they are. Or the other way is ‘no’. And leave it at that. No!”

“I, I want to help you heal. I want to offer you the compassion you showed me. I, I… need to be your shelter from the storms of life that you were to me. I… need to make your humiliation like you made mine, not an issue, not any longer a problem. I want to love you like I learned that you loved me.”

“April, I…”

She interrupted, “Tommy, I want to look into your face at the moment when you realize that ‘I am where you belong;’ that love does exist for you, and that it’s in me. I was foolish, baby. I’ve had men throw themselves at me all my life but I’ve never known love; until I met you. I’m going to fight for that love, fight to make you see that when you look into the abyss, love is looking back at you, not just the abyss of your fears and past looking back.”

“Ok, that’s real nice, April. Thank you for telling me that; is there anything else?” He stood and began for the door.

“No, Tommy. There is no more. There is plenty, but no more than what I’ve said, other than I love YOU.” She stood from the table and touched his cheek. Huge tears welled in her eyes, one escaped, making a wet trail down her cheek onto her jaw and then to her blouse.

April walked through the door, unsteady, like she was in a dream. It seemed unreal. She’d failed? What now? Where now? She slowly walked down the hall to the elevator, silently weeping, tears streaming. The elevator door opened; she stepped in.

‘”I am where you belong” she had said.’ Tom thought as he watched her walk away, tears also forming in his eyes. This would be it.

“April, wait” Tom cried out in agony.

The elevator door had nearly closed, April heard his cry, and slammed her arm in the closing door’s path. It dinged open and she stepped out blinking through her tears at him. He began to run, sobbing, towards her, she ran to him, weeping, gasping, moaning in agony, and they met half way between the elevators and the door to his apartment.

Their embrace was desperate, their tears flowing like streams in a long-time dry desert, their words not spoken. Sobs of remorse and forgiveness were the sounds. The release of pent-up hatred and anger towards her, forgiving her, served to free Tom. Repentance, and receiving his forgiveness and re-commitment freed April.

“You will never regret this baby. ‘I’m where you belong;’ I am love, I love you, and you will come to see that” she wept into his shoulder.

Tom had no words. Just sobs. They held onto one another for minutes. Myrtle McComb witnessed it all from her little peep hole in the door at the end of the hall.

“They sure do make a handsome couple, don’t they” she said to no one.

She drew a circle and put me out, A heretic, a rebel, a thing to flout.

But, love and I, with a will to win, drew a circle and took her in.

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