Little Things Kill Ch. 01

When my wife and I first started dating we had what few couples can claim, a lack mutual lack of relationship experience. The extent of her sexual journey included one boyfriend of three years. For myself, outside of a few brief flings (none of which involved intercourse), I was nearly a blank slate. But after ten years of intense sexual exploration with each other, we both filled in the many blanks on our sexual resume. Adventurous, daring and at times dangerous episodes dotted our time together, and marriage, thankfully and abnormally, has only increased out appetites for each other.

We have a mutual lust for both dominant and submissive rolls in the bed. More than once the subject of penis size entered out escapades and she took incredible satisfaction in teasing me, but I'd always return the favor. Her breasts, pert, spunky and very nicely formed to her body, are just below a B cup. We spent many nights having passionate sex to my sweet whispers in her ear, goading her to think about our female friends, of which we have many, and the fact that even the smallest of them is still at least a cup size larger than her. She obsessed over the thought of me, her committed and faithful husband obsessing over other woman's breasts.

Things escalated from there, with me instructing her to wear the tightest sports bra's she owned when we went out drinking with everyone, to ensure that she was as flat as possible. I'd pass the night with her, drunkenly talking at times much louder than I should have. I'd ask if she felt small and inadequate and like a little girl, sitting there in her sports bra. I'd describe our friends to her, describe how their larger chests made them more confident, more woman like and ultimately more desirable than her. She would nervously laugh, hoping they weren't listening but secretly hoping they were. Being dominated, at least at this time, was the best aphrodisiac I could give her.

For her part, she's begun teasing me about my size as well. The problem with this is that from her perspective, she hadn't really understood where I stood in comparison with other men. I'm not small but I'm not on the large side of average either. Luckily for me, the only comparison that she had was her ex boyfriend, and one brief fling she had when we first started dating. The fling wasn't memorable enough for her to remember and her ex-boyfriend she admitted was longer than me but not nearly as thick. At a little less than 4" in girth and just under 5" in length, she had not only always been content with my size, but pleased. Of course she's watched movies, she understands that there are larger men, but her exposure had been limited so she was able, for a long time, to write off the images that she saw as the by product of the fake world of movies. After all, if nearly every woman she saw in a movie or porno had D cup breasts, there was little doubt that the men's sizes were 'enhanced' as well.

Her opinions started to change though once she decided to take our sexual flirting to the next level. I had always been content teasing her and making her crazy in our own little world, begging her to wear small outfits and slightly revealing clothing in an effort to passively make her feel inferior. It worked incredibly well, driving her crazy whenever I did it. But when it came to me she had, from the onset, a desire to be aggressive in her teasing, in her approach to make me feel like she had, both inadequate and aroused at the same time.

It began with a work friend, like it always seems to. Terry was sort of her boss but more just like a supervisor. I had worked with Terry years before at another job so we were all friends. Her husband was a nice, if not bland guy that I shared drinks with at various Christmas parties over thee years. Terry had always been a bit of a turn on for my wife. Terry had that sleek, styled working lady appearance to her. Her long, streaked hair was always pulled back into a no nonsense ponytail, her makeup never a step below flawless. Her outfits, a range from high black boots and tight knee length skirts, to pinstriped suit pants and tight, formfitting white button downs, were many a discussion in our bedroom when my wife was in 'that' mood. It helped that Terry was always open to discussion about anything my wife could dream up. She's find out juicy little bits of information about Terry's sex life, about Bill her husband, and the things they did.

One night, after an intense workout at the gym, I settled in and flipped on the television. She came home and sat next to me, still dressed for work. Her work out fits were a little too conservative for my tastes. Turtle neck sweaters, loose suit pants and heeled shoes, but my wife still has an amazing little body on her almost five foot frame. Her long black hair was down though, so it spiced up an otherwise unadventurous look.

"So I had an interesting discussion today at work."

"Oh really?" I said not even half listening watching Sportscenter.

"With Terry."

"Mmhmm."

"And what she thinks of undersized men." And that's when the TV flipped off and she instantly garnered my full attention.

"And why were you talking about undersized men?" She smile at me and began walking her fingers up and down my sweaty shirt. "Just something that came up."

She reached her hand beneath the waistband of my sweatpants. My penis was soft and limp.

"She just made a comment about how big you are and how big you must be." I'm almost six foot four and not overly muscular but I definitely keep the fat off, "and how great of a lay you must be. I disagreed."

Her hand tightened around my stirring penis.

"But you love sex with me."

"Of course I do, and I told her that much." Her fingertips pinched the head of my dick. "But I also told her you're not nearly as big as everyone probably thinks you are." That comment forced a strong jolt of blood to spring my near flaccid cock to life. I tensed at the thought of my loving wife telling another woman, a sexy, forceful and dominant woman, that I didn't measure up.

"I can't believe you said that to her."

"Neither could I at first. But I was just so horny all day and once she started talking about the sex she had last night I couldn't help it. She said she had trouble walking today because Bill was so rough with her last night." The thought of Terry's long, athletic legs spread open as her tight, full breasts bounced from the force of Bill's pounding pelvis filled my brain.

"Then she said that she can only imagine how I felt after one of our sessions. That you must really give it to me hard." My wife giggled. "And that's when I told her it was never that bad." My cock stood firm, my wife's hand gliding up and down the shaft still tucked neatly inside my sweats. The embarrassment of her comments only served to turn me on more.

"What did she say?" I put my hand over my wife's to slow her down. I was ready to explode already but I needed to hear the end of the story.

"Are you ready to shoot already?!" She giggled again, but with something behind it. I immediately knew why she was laughing.

"This is just so hot. I can't believe you said these things."

"No." She pushed my hand away and kept stroking. The head of my penis rubbed against the rough fabric of my sweatpants on her down stroke, on the upstroke my small head disappeared in her small hands. "That's not why you're ready to blow. You're ready to blow," she pulled my pants down with her free hand, "because little Tom here always likes to shoot quick doesn't he."

She stroked faster and I felt the pressure working its way up my shaft. I tried to hold back, but she was unrelenting.

"He shoots quick, doesn't he Tom," she kept stroking and leaned into my ear. "Say it, say it Tom. You're a quick shot."

"No," I bit my lip and squeezed my innards as hard as I could, hoping to stem the rising tide of pleasure working its way up my legs.

"If you can hold it in for one more minute, you don't have to say it. One little minute. But if you can't then you have to say 'I'm a quick shot' and shoot all over your clothes."

"That's not fair. You know I love shooting it on you though."

She made a fake sad face and patted my head with her free hand. "I know baby, I know but that's your punishment."

The slight distraction for a second lessened the growing pressure in my balls. She sped up her jerking and I tried to cycle through the roster of the past three World Series Champions to help me hold out. I thought of Beckett, and Pujos and ...

Twenty seconds past.

"You ready to shoot sweetheart?"

"Nope." I winced.

Her lips nestled close to my ear and her slight tongue licked my lobe. "I told Terry that most nights you don't last more than two minutes." Oh fuck. "She tried not to laugh but when I told her it was alright she busted out. We giggled to each other about it and she accused me of lying. She said there was no way you were a quick shot and under sized."

The cum bubbled up my shaft and collected in the head, I was a deadman.

"But I told her you most definitely were. I told her you were a small dicked quick shooter and she laughed so loud the guys in finance all heard her. She covered her mouth but couldn't stop laughing. At you, baby, all at you."

The release was incredible, the best one I had had in months. A small stream of it sprouted out of my cockhead and landed on her still stroking hand, the next spurt landed on my shirt and a tiny third one on the waistband on my pants.

She smiled at my mess and kept stroking as my body spasmed and the implications of what she had just told me began to embarrass me more than turn me on. Had she really said all those things? Did Terry really know how inadequate I was in bed?

My wife stopped stroking and then looked into my eyes, not smiling but with a slanted, mischievous face.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

My penis was already deflating and even in its half aroused state she was able to cup mostly whole thing, and my balls, in her hand. She squeezed and pain coursed through my abdomen but a touch of pleasure too, everything was still really sensitive.

"Okay, okay." I pursed my lips and balked. She squeezed tighter. "I'm a quick shot. I'm a small dicked quick shot."

She immediately relinquished her grip on my groin and smiled, giving me a big kiss on the lips.

"Ha! That was wonderful sweetheart! You did so well! I told her there was no way you'd say any of that but she was right."

"What are you talking about?" I pulled my sweats over my now dying penis, covered in small splatterings of my own cum. I folded my arms over my chest to hide the rest of the cum from her.

"Terry told me to make you say that."

"So everything you just told me was true?" I wasn't turned on anymore, just defeated.

"Of course," my wife was extremely happy at this. She sat on her knees, completely un-phased by the fact I was covered in my own cum and embarrassed. "After she stopped laughing she asked if you knew how small and inadequate you were. I told her I didn't think you were that bad. So she backed off a little because I think she thought she was hurting my feelings. I admitted it made me hot to think of you like that so she said to spice things up I should try and get you to admit it, even if, and I promise she said this: 'I should try and get you to admit it, even if, and I promise she said this, 'even if you think he's not. Because girl, I have news for you, it really sounds like he is.'"

She was like a little girl telling her friends about the first sexual experience she had just had. She was excited, and bouncing in her seat and completely oblivious to the fact that she was getting turned on by my sexual inadequacies. Whatever fear I felt slowly seeped away as the thought of her being turned on by Terry's harsh comments about me began to appeal to me, even if my dick stayed limp, like it always did after sex. "Huuu," she smiled and bounced to her feet. She went into the bedroom and emerged with her dildo, the big black toy we bought for her for nights that we considered 'a special occasion.'

"Where are you going with that?" I asked, uncomfortably shifting as the cum in my pants stuck to my leg and the inside of my pants.

"I'm taking a shower, and this little episode REALLY turned me on."

"Let me help you then."

"Ohh," she made the sad face again, but a little smile curled the side of her lips. "I promise I would let you sweetheart, but you can't go again can you?"

I shoved a hand into my sticky pants and groped, trying to get something going. It took all of ten seconds to realize nothing was going on.

"I can finger you."

"No, it's okay darling. She said that too. That little dicked men have a hard time going again after they've finished. She's helping me understand all the things that have been frustrating me for so long.

"So long? You never told me that?!"

"Honey, now lets be fair. I can't exactly tell you that the only time I have a strong fulfilling orgasm is when you finger me. That's just a little insulting to you. And the fact that after we have sex I have to sneak into the bathroom and finish myself off because you don't last long? How can I tell you that?"

Chirst she was right. I hadn't noticed but now that it was laid out in front of me, it all actually made sense.

"I guess you couldn't," I said meekly

"Exactly," she was talking with the big black dildo in her hand, waving it like the magic wand she was about to use it as. "Terry really made me feel better about things today. So don't be mad. She just has a way of making me realize things. You should be thanking her actually."

"Thanking her?"

"Don't' be like that baby. Honestly. She's been with guys like you before. She knows how it goes."

"Guys like me?!"

"Yes sweetheart, guys like you. I'm serious, it was a great talk we had. And now that I understand things, understand your limitations so much better, things are only going to get better for the both of us." She pointed her dildo at me and smiled. "Okay?"

"Not really." I pouted at her, at the thoughts and feelings she was sharing with me. I was so ineffectual that that's all I could muster the courage to do, pout, like a little boy.

"Okay then, join me in the shower and prove to me that I'm wrong. Prove to me that even though you have a smaller sized penis, you can give it to me nice and hard more than once every twelve hours."

I stroked my cock again, trying to will it to grow, tell it to get bigger and engorged in my hand, a nice long hard on that I could shut her and Terry's ideas up with. But a full minute of jerking and all I had was a sore flaccid penis that was caked in drying cum.

Again she giggled at me. "See sweetheart. It's just who you are. And I promise I'm not going to be mad at you anymore. I understand. Thanks to Terry I understand. Now I'm going to take a shower and finish myself off."

"Fine, but can I at least clean up first."

"No," she laughed as she headed for the bathroom. "That's your punishment for being a quick shot remember? Sit in your little cum puddle until I'm done. Then you can clean up. Okay."

I didn't answer. I just pouted.

"Tom." She leaned her head out of the bathroom. "I said, is that okay?"

"Yes." I confirmed after her prompting.

"Good boy." She smiled again, infinitely happy at the control she was suddenly exerting over me. "Oh and you can thank Terry personally when we see her next week at the Christmas party."

"Christmas party?"

"Yup, she'll be there with her husband. You can thank her then. You will be thanking her correct."

I stroked my cock in futility. Goddamnit she was so right.

"Yes honey, I'll thank her."

"Excellent!" And she slammed the door and got to work.

I thought about Terry, about her comments, about her changing my wife's outlook on our sex life. I wondered if she was actually right, and that it was good fro my wife to realize these things. Then I wondered how I'd react to seeing Terry. I guess I'd find out sooner rather than later. I secretly wished for the week pass faster than any other in my life.