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My name’s Emilie. I live in Akron, Ohio and I have a problem. I’m getting closer to thirty than I usually want to admit. I’m starting to panic just a little because I’m not married yet. I always thought I’d have been married a long time ago; maybe even have a kid or two by now. But there just aren’t that many guys living around here that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with.
And I’ve just wasted more than three years – three of the best years of my life – on a dirty rotten asshole who really didn’t deserve me. I’ll never be able to get those years back again. The sadistic jerk led me on; he told me he loved me and let me think that we’d eventually be getting married.
We opened a bank account together, bought some furniture, rented an apartment and set up housekeeping less than six months after we met and started dating. We fucked all the time. The sex was awesome. He had a monster cock and a talented tongue. I kept waiting for an engagement ring – dropping hints every once in awhile – but it all fell on deaf ears.
His answer to all our problems was to drop what we were doing and have sex. Yeah, the sex was awesome, but that wasn’t enough. I mean, I don’t have a lot of time left anymore. My twenty-eighth birthday was a couple of months ago. I better get moving if I expect to meet a man, date awhile, fall in love, get pregnant, and have the baby – all before my thirtieth birthday.
I really need to calm myself down here. Thinking like that is exactly what got me in the mess I’m in now. I really don’t know what to do. There’s no one I can talk to about this. No one. Really. I feel like shit. My life’s in ruins. And it’s no one’s fault but my own.
He worked upstairs in the accounting department. I came in contact with him every day when I dropped off files to that department. He was thirty-five years old, insanely good-looking, and probably the most charming man I’d ever met. His manners would make any mother proud. He shot me a heart-melting smile every time he saw me. And of course I smiled right back.
So I pulled him close to me and hugged him hard, then I kissed the top of his gorgeous head and told him that the size of a man’s penis wasn’t nearly as important as most guys seemed to think it was – it was really how a man used his cock that was important. But even as I was saying the words, I was trying to fix in my mind’s eye a picture of a teenie tiny little weenie that was only three inches long. I mean, God-damn! My 4 year old nephew had a larger penis. I wondered how something so small could possibly ever provide satisfying sex. How would I even be able to feel something so small once it was inside of me ? I really did love good sex and didn’t think I’d be able to live without it for the rest of my life. Damn ! I could already tell that this was something that was going to put a serious crimp in my style.
The next weekend, I decided to give it my best shot. I invited Owen over to my place for dinner – something I’d rarely done, preferring instead for him to take me out and spend some money. I actually cooked for us ! Later, we drank a few of bottles of wine while we sat on the couch and made out while we watched a couple of DVDs. Then I thought it was time to start moving the party upstairs to the bedroom, with a little stop-over in the Jacuzzi first.
Even though I’d dimmed the lights considerably, I could tell Owen was uncomfortable about dropping his pants in front of me, so I looked away while he stepped out of them. When I turned back around to face him, he was standing there red-faced with his hands cupped over his penis. I walked over to him and wrapped my hands around his neck. I kissed him passionately and moved my hands down to cover his. Then I held them in my own before moving them to his sides.
I kept up the passionate kissing, making myself (and, I hoped, Owen) hotter and hotter. I was tonguing him and rubbing myself up against him. My thin panties were damp and my nipples were getting really hard. I grabbed ahold of his crotch and was startled and amazed at how it all fit in my hand. Bummer. I hoped my surprise didn’t show too much, and that I was acting like there was nothing out of the ordinary.
I lit a candle to set the mood and walked us over to the Jacuzzi. I turned on the sound system and put on some salsa music. I started doing a little strip-tease for his benefit, laughing and singing and tossing my clothes around the room as I danced wildly. I was having a good time and was trying my best to make sure Owen was enjoying himself, too. He didn’t look too relaxed yet, though.
So I danced around and kept talking clothes off until I was totally naked. I danced over to where Owen was sitting on the side of the Jacuzzi and dropped to my knees. I took his tiny penis in my hands and looked at it only briefly before popping it into my mouth and starting to suck on it. I have to admit it felt really peculiar; this super-small penis. Not only was it short, it was also on the thin side.
I could easily roll it around in my mouth and still have plenty of room left over. I was appalled by the whole thing and wanted to spit his little dick out, but to my disgust I felt it getting harder. So I kept right on sucking. It felt really creepy, though – this little thing just sort of laying there on my tongue like that. I wanted to feel a fat dick grow ‘til it filled my mouth and then shoved itself down my throat. This just wasn’t cuttin’ it for me.
And just what the hell was I supposed to do about it ? A couple of minutes later, the question was answered (at least temporarily) when Owen’s little dick squirted a few drops of sticky white cum into my mouth right before it went limp. I didn’t usually swallow, but this was such a small amount it didn’t bother me. I was so miserable, I didn’t even feel like having sex afterwards – I just wanted to go to sleep. Imagine that . . . me – not wanting to cum ! It was positively unheard of . . .
And as we went to sleep that night, my head was swimming with unpleasant thoughts . . . this couldn’t be happening to me . . . it looked like if I stayed with Owen, sex as I knew it was effectively over with. It’s true that maybe over the course of his life he had learned some special tongue tricks – but even as good as a skilful tongue licking and sucking my clit could feel, nothing would never be able to replace the feeling of having my cunt (and sometimes my ass) filled with and fucked by a big, fat dick.
Sucking cock had always been one of my favourite things to do – and refused to think of life without it . . . My one experience sucking Owen’s dick had been nothing I’d ever want to repeat. I loved the feeling of a guy’s big balls slapping up against my face and chin – and poor Owen’s were as tiny as marbles.
But OK – there were some things about Owen that I really liked . . . My friends and family absolutely adored him. Plus, he was gorgeous – and the way he pampered me was nothing short of sinful. His generosity was exceptional. I’d come to depend on his little presents and my luxurious new lifestyle.
I invited Owen over for dinner again the next weekend. In the meantime, I practiced doing vaginal exercises in the hopes of making everything a little tighter down there. We drank a couple of bottles of wine with dinner, then we went up to the Jacuzzi again.
Again, I could tell Owen was embarrassed, so I didn’t watch as he got undressed, which was a big bummer for me because I’d always enjoyed watching my man come out of his clothes. In fact, I’d always thought of it as a sort of participatory sport. I’d gotten good at helping.
But OK . . . I tried to loosen him up by doing another striptease-dance. We drank some more wine as we tried to relax in the Jacuzzi. I was rubbing my body seductively up against his. He’d gotten aroused; his little dick was rock hard – but I hadn’t even realised it. It was appalling how his whole dick could fit in my hand with room left over. Appalling – and depressing. This wasn’t going well . . .
I remembered our massive make-out sessions and the passionate kisses that always started them. I closed my eyes and began slowly, lightly kissing Owen’s lips. I licked them, and trailed my tongue down the side of his face to his neck. I started nibbling his neck and shoulders. Owen was doing the same. I could feel myself starting to get really wet and horny.
I straddled his body and lowered myself down. I’d intended to lower myself down onto his dick and start riding it – but his weenie was so small, that wasn’t going to be possible because I couldn’t even tell if he was inside me or not. I was getting more and more frustrated.
So maybe it was time to get out of the Jacuzzi and go to bed and try it there. I finished off the bottle of wine, hoping to make this whole thing a little more bearable. I kissed Owen until I felt myself getting all tingly between my legs again – then I climbed out of the Jacuzzi and towelled myself dry. I helped Owen out of the tub, carefully avoiding eye contact with his family jewels. Having to behave like this sucked.
I shoved him on the bed and fell on top of him, laughing because I was trying to be silly and light-hearted. But I realised as soon as I started giggling that it was likely to be taken the wrong way. This little problem of Owen’s (no pun intended) was causing me way too many problems already.
Nonetheless, I had to keep on trying, didn’t I ? Or else there’d be no more cool presents for me anymore; my luxurious lifestyle would come to a screeching halt. So I closed my eyes, mashed my big soft boobies into Owen’s chest and shoved my tongue into his mouth and down his throat. I was moving my body up against his seductively and was even beginning to make myself a little horny.
After a few minutes, I was starting to get hot again and I was beginning to think, “Yeah – OK – this sure does feel good; maybe I can find a way to make it work !” when I reached down to stroke his penis. Once again, just the realization that his whole penis (and balls, too) could fit in my hand with room to spare was enough to turn me right off. I was becoming less and less hot by the second – and was having to fight to try and make myself pretend like I still wanted to have sex with Owen.
But pretend I did. I threw myself into the whole thing with renewed vigor. I’m sure Owen thought I was all hot and bothered; that I wanted him as badly as his tiny little hard dick wanted me. I was putting in an award-winning performance, that much was for sure. I was moaning and gyrating and rubbing up against him, breathing and whispering nasty things into his ear.
It wasn’t long before Owen was ramming himself into me and cumming. I continued squirming and breathing hard. I’m sure he thought he was giving me a massive orgasm – and I did nothing to change his mind. We laid there and cuddled afterwards. He told me how magnificent I was – and I lied and told him how fantastic he made me feel. He fell asleep happy, and I fell asleep frustrated, pissed off and worried.
Furled by the misconception he was all of a sudden hot in the sack, Owen invited himself over several times that week. Every date ended up with the two of us in bed. I swear – try as I might – I couldn’t even feel his dinky little dick inside my pussy – not at all.
It’s obvious that Owen’s feeling better and better these days. It’s also obvious that I’m feeling worse and worse. I’m sure he’s having more good sex than he’s ever had in his entire life. And I’m having much less of it . . . I can’t remember ever feeling so frustrated and unhappy.
So it looks like I’ve backed myself into a corner here, and I don’t know what to do anymore . . . I’m nearly certain Owen is getting ready to ask me to marry him any day now. Everyone I know is convinced that Owen is the one for me; my One True Love. Everyone except for me, that is. I have to figure out how to get out of this.
After a week or so, he asked me if I wanted to join him for coffee at break time, and I jumped at the chance. Owen was kind, intelligent and really easy to talk to. He wore expensive clothes, and he looked awesome in them. He smelled good. He had twinkling blue eyes, a big smile and a happy, infectious laugh. Soon after we started taking our breaks together every day, he asked me to go out to dinner and the movies with him the next weekend. I literally couldn’t wait. I was as excited as a teenager.
Over dinner, he told me he wasn’t seeing anyone. He also told me that he’d never been married – and in fact, had never had a serious relationship that had lasted very long at all. I thought this was a little peculiar – but then again, maybe not. Maybe he’d just not met the right woman until now . . . But anyway, I couldn’t believe my good luck – it was hard to believe women weren’t lining up and fighting for the chance to go out with him. From all outward appearances, he was a real catch. We were still on our first date, and already my head was swimming with big dreams of our wonderful future together. A big house way out in the country and a couple of children were definitely part of this picture.
Our first date was everything I’d been dreaming it would be – and then some. After it was over, Owen walked me to my door and kissed me sweetly. He asked me out again, and I readily accepted. It wasn’t long until we were dating regularly. I was in heaven. He seemed like he really liked me, and he spoiled me rotten. He was generous and he pampered me silly. Whatever I wanted, I got. All I had to do was ask. I thought I was beginning to fall in love with him – at least with what he had to offer me, which was pretty much everything.
I proudly introduced my wonderful new boyfriend to my family and all my friends. I bragged incessantly about how much money he made, all the cool stuff he had, the great trips we’d taken and all the expensive gifts he gave me. I was sure he was “the one” – and I let everyone know it in no uncertain terms. Everything seemed to be perfect.
Everything, that is – except for one thing. We’d been dating for a few months when it first started bothering me; chewing away at the back of my brain. I tried not to think about it, but I thought it was a little strange that Owen never tried to get in my pants. At first, it was a refreshing change. At first, I thought he might be gay and trying to convince himself he wasn’t by dating a woman. After I realized that wasn’t the case, I thought it meant I’d finally met someone who liked me for who I was – not just because I was fucking him and sucking his cock. Also, there were a lot of big changes in his department at work – I thought maybe he was just dealing with a lot of stress right now, and the situation would change after everything cleared up. But then things started calming down at work again – but I still wasn’t getting any action. Damn ! This man sure was attractive. He could make my panties wet in no time flat. Kissing him made me hot as hell. We had some marathon make-out sessions that would rival any from my high school days. But it wasn’t enough – I wanted more. I ached to feel his hard cock plunging in and out of my wet and hungry cunt. Finally I could stand it no longer. One night when we were both sweaty and panting after one of our intensely hot and heavy make make-out sessions, I asked him why he never pushed any further – was there something wrong ?
And then my precious Owen was dead quiet for a long time. He hugged me tight and buried his head in my shoulder. What he told me when he finally started talking again was the last thing I expected to hear. He whispered to me that his Johnson was barely three inches long when it was at its most erect – and that he’d been the teased unmercifully about it by both men and women his whole life long. He said he’d been ashamed and embarrassed about it ever since he could remember. He was totally miserable, and sobbed uncontrollably.