Don’t get me wrong. I was no virgin when we married, although, in retrospect, I think Ryan might have been, despite what he told me at the time. When I met him, I had grown tired of the dating scene. So many useless men out there looking for a quick fuck, and then you never hear from them again. That kind of life is acceptable for a time, but a woman needs more than just a good dicking after a while. Ryan certainly seemed to fit that requirement.
Despite being on the chubby side, maybe a little huskier than I usually like in a man, he seemed like a real go-getter. He was doing well in his job as a lawyer and making good money. Ryan also lived an active lifestyle by playing golf, football, and basketball with his buddies. He was a man about town. My then fiancé’s friends playfully called him ‘Shrimp,’ which I assumed was due to his height. Ryan stood only five foot eight, shorter than all of his male friends.
Again, it wasn’t a deal-breaker for me. Ryan may not be tall, but he seemed so masculine to me. I remember those chats with my girlfriends and how we giggled and gossiped about how I would have a great family with Ryan. The optimism was palpable. Everyone approved of our marriage. I’m a twenty-four-year-old blonde whose best assets are my big DD breasts and plump butt, and I have curves and legs that go for miles. Ryan’s a nuggety little man who could hold his own with the strongest men we knew.
To me, it was a match made in heaven. I was marrying the man of my dreams. Like Doug in ‘King of Queens,’ he was my king, and I was his Carrie. Together we were simpatico, and so when our wedding finally arrived, I was the happiest woman on the planet.
The day itself was fantastic. It was everything I ever dreamed possible. Then, after the reception, I was in the car with my new husband, heading toward the final part of the day—the consummation of our vows in the marital bed. I was so excited and horny as the last eighteen months had been a struggle.
I remember the drive to the BNB we booked for our wedding night. It was a two-hour drive into the mountains, but it felt like two minutes. As we both chatted like eager schoolgirls all the way there, time just flew. We had just had the best day of our lives, our wedding day—that one day when a man and a woman are like celebrities. Then we arrived at the cute cottage in the mountains, and he carried me over the threshold inside.
Strangely, I have never seen Ryan naked until this night. We had stayed together at times while engaged, but we always dressed and undressed separately due to his religious beliefs. To me, it was just one of his cute quirks. But now we’re man and wife, and nothing can come between us anymore. I went to the bathroom to freshen up and put on a sexy see-through negligee. I was trembling, and my pussy was positively dripping. It was so wet.
On entering the bedroom, he was there in his boxers. We were ready, and I looked forward to feeling a real cock inside me again after so many months of just my vibrator. We kiss and climb into bed. Once under the covers, he whips off his boxers, still so shy. He starts to kiss me, sliding his tongue into my mouth.
“I love you so much, Alexis,” he whispers.
“I love you too,” I said, hugging him close.
Ryan positions himself over me. His hand is massaging my breasts and pinching my stiff nipples. We kiss passionately as our bodies squirm against each other. I’m so hot at this stage. I gasp when I feel his hand start to rub my pussy.
“Oh, do it,” I moan. “Fuck me.”
“OK, honey. Damn, you’re so wet down there,” Ryan said. “I guess we won’t need any lube.”
“Come on, baby,” I groan. “Make me your wife.”
I suddenly feel something poking at my pussy and shiver with anticipation. Then I feel something slide inside my cunt, and a rush of disappointment goes through me. ‘He’s finger fucking me,’ I thought.
“Not your finger, Ryan,” I shouted. “Fuck me with your cock.”
Ryan’s face above me frowns and flushes. “That is my cock,” he said, glaring at me.
“It is? It feels like a finger,” I said.
A flash of anger crosses his face, and I realize my mistake. So, I kiss him and say, “Come on, fuck me. Make me yours.”
Now Ryan hadn’t stopped thrusting his cock into me during this brief exchange, and to my dismay, he suddenly grunted and closed his eyes tight. ‘He’s cumming already,’ I thought, horrified. Sure enough, my new husband shot his load in a minute. Then, to make matters worse, he rolls off me and sighs.
“God, that was great, honey,” he said, and before long, he was asleep.
My mind was reeling. I was lying there horny out of my mind after my new husband just did a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am with a cock I barely felt. I lifted the blankets to see if I could see his cock, but he was lying with his back to me.
‘Why could I barely feel his cock,’ I wondered, lying there frustrated. ‘Was he not putting it all inside me? I don’t get it. OK, I can forgive the quick cum. It has been a big day. I guess we can try again tomorrow.”
I never thought I’d find myself masturbating on my wedding night.
*****
The next day, Ryan sits on the couch reading the newspaper and feeling a little queasy. I kneel in front of him and start undoing his pants.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his red face appearing behind the paper.
“I just wanna look at your penis,” I said, hoping last night was just a bad dream.
“Oh, someone’s a horny girl,” he said, smiling a little too smugly for my liking.
He raises his butt so I can pull down his pants and boxers, and there it is, the smallest dick I’ve ever seen on a man. The head barely peaks out in its soft state, and his pubic hair covers it. Even his balls seem small. ‘Maybe he’s a grower,’ I thought.
“Get it hard for me,” I asked him.
Ryan starts jerking off, and it doesn’t take long for his cock to grow to its entire length.
I am staring at his cock—it’s tiny. The damn thing looks barely four inches hard. He’s getting into it, though; he thinks I like it. My new husband thinks I’m doing this to be playful. After about a minute of him jerking off, he grunts, and several wads of jizz dribbled out of the end of his little stiffy. Ryan gazes down at me like he’s the king of all men. I feel my stomach roil, and a wave of emotion overtakes me. I can’t believe it, but I start to cry. All I can think is, ‘What have I done?.’
“Are you OK, honey?” Ryan asks, breaking into a frown.
I’m just staring at his tiny dick and wondering how this man had fooled me. He did nothing to make me think he was a baby dick man during our dating.
“Is this why your friends call you ‘Shrimp,’” I asked, wiping the tears from my eyes.
“Um, what do you mean?” he asks, blushing.
“I always thought it was because of your height, but now I see it was something else.”
He suddenly puts his acorn-sized soft dick away, his face as red as possible. I stand and leave the room. I’m still crying, so disappointed in myself for not making sure he was packing before we married. My friends warned me, and they said I would be mad if I married this guy without checking his genitals. But Ryan always came across so manly. He had what I thought was big dick energy.
As I sit on the bed sobbing, I look in the mirror, and a wave of shame makes me shudder. ‘Why does it matter so much to me?’ I wonder. ‘He’s still the same man I fell in love with. I’m sure we can still have a fun sex life together. Can we?’ I knew why because I felt duped. Ryan fooled me into thinking he was an alpha man. Alpha men always have massive cocks. I should know, as I’ve fucked so many of them. But now, here I am with a beta male. Yes, I cannot even call my husband a man now. Ryan is a male.
I wipe the tears from my eyes and decide I don’t know what kind of male Ryan is, and it hurts my pride. ‘I’m going to have to test him,’ I thought with resolve. ‘Maybe he’s an alpha with a small dick? I guess it’s possible. I need to push him in certain situations to see how he responds. To see if my husband is alpha or beta.’
*****
A few days later, I’m in the shower, and Ryan walks in and starts to piss. I figure now we’re married. He must think this sort of behavior is acceptable—part of me likes it as it’s what an alpha man would do. I peeked out as he tried to aim his pathetically small penis at the toilet bowl, and it seemed to be dribbling all over his balls and onto the floor. I have never seen anything so ridiculous. It doesn’t even appear he can piss right with this tiny dick. I decided this could be my first test for him.
I poke my head out of the shower and shout, “Hey, if you can’t get it into the bowl, then sit down like a girl.”
Ryan’s head turns sharply, and his face goes red. He stops peeing, but I can sense he still needs to go. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks defensively.
“It means if you can’t piss like a man, you’ll have to piss like a girl,” I said rather cruelly than I intended. “Don’t think when we get home I’m gonna be cleaning up your piss off the floor every time you go to the toilet.”
“But honey?” he whined.
My heart drops. A real man would tell me to fuck off and mind my own business. But a beta male would whine and then comply.
“Come on, start getting into the habit now. Sit on the toilet to pee from now on,” I shouted.
He hesitates. I’m hoping he’ll do the manly thing. I can see his face weighing it all up to make his decision. Then with a sigh, he lowers the seat and sits. I was so disappointed. My first real test of his manhood, and he failed.
“Happy now?” he asked, pouting like a little boy.
“Yes, and make sure you clean that puddle you made on the floor,” I said and returned to my shower.
I watched him finish, then returned with a mop and clean the mess he left. He didn’t look at me, but I could see he was mad. I pushed him around. ‘Maybe that’s a good sign,’ I thought. ‘Maybe his anger will bring out his manliness?” Alas, it had no such effect. If anything, he became a little passive-aggressive, another sign of beta maledom. I need to push it a bit more to see if he can be the man I knew before marriage.
*****
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