I started this piece in honor of small penises, but it has morphed into a description of my life in an FLR and a bit about how I got here. I write erotic fiction. I’ve promised myself that if what I share isn’t true, then I will say so. I’ve re-read this piece, and it is true except that the voyage into submission wasn’t as linear and happened over three marriages. I’ve been with this last and final partner since 1984.
I wrote this after receiving a letter from a man who, as a teenager was ridiculed by his date for his small penis, and who spent many years in shame of his size. I felt very badly for the man.
I wish men with small penises were honored for their condition and encouraged to fulfill their important beta male role which should hold a special place in our culture. He’s the one who can really excel at FLR.
I don’t have a small penis but there are times I wish I did. It would help me better to learn humility and service. In my FLR relationship, my actual size is irrelevant since it isn’t used for PIV (Penis in vagina ) or PIA (Penis in anywhere)
. But given the cultural imperative that bigger is better, thinking of myself as small has helped free me from the challenge to compete. It’s exciting to make believe I’m small.
My wife is quite happy about my subdued penis. When she sees it frustrated, she likes to say, “Is your little penis bothering you?” She doesn’t cater to my sexual needs. She lets me have them. The last few times we had intercourse, it was mostly about me excited -- she amused (but never contemptuous), encouraging me to have my fun. You know like when you were a kid and you’re learning something new like how to keep your head down when you dive or to hit a tennis ball off a Tee… you wanted mom to watch you. That was years ago.
My release? Well, I wouldn’t call them orgasms but I am permitted to squirt once a week, which is a lot really for a chaste hubby when I read what a denied life some of us lead. Oh, don’t get me wrong. It took me a long time to get here, to make the necessary sacrifices and do the training to become what we both want. And please don’t misunderstand, I trained myself and offered the sacrifices willingly. They were my ideas, and I am very happy she accepted them graciously. Given the way our culture expects women to be, it took some time for her to become comfortable with being completely free of obligation.
I might as well come out and say it. I have become a jerkoff. My Mommy’s little jerkoff boy. I have been for a few years and yet it is still embarrassing to confess because of the expectations and stereotypes our culture has of men.
Every Friday I get to jerk my little penis to a squirt. I say “get to” but it is really her schedule. I’ve offered longer but she’s of the use-it-or-lose-it school. She usually reminds me in the morning before we get out of bed. If she forgets, I’ll wait. She’ll remember later; once it was two days. She asks me why I don’t remind her and the best I can respond is it would be impolite.
Sometimes she’ll throw on a dress and go downstairs, leaving me to my own devices. Then I might grab my laptop and look for a fantasy to fall into. It will often be a scene where the male is the aggressor, fucking someone else’s wife up her ass. I love that. I still go back to the role of the dom even though it will never come true for me again. Fantasy It keeps the memory and yearning alive. But by the time I’m ready to spurt myself, I’m no longer imagining myself the aggressive male. I’m the cuck in the corner, watching and wishing, feeling her pleasure as if it was my own. And it is.
The training began when I suggested she didn’t need to have my semen inside, and she got in the habit of having me slide out and come on her belly. Later it became her placing her hands on my hips and pushing. Soon I was squirting hands free on my knees between her spread legs. Afterwards, vulnerable and exposed, kneeling before her, my head would hang, completely subdued.
After a while we stopped having intercourse with my penis… quite a while ago. Now I spend most days in a chastity device. The sex is really good. She has wonderful orgasms I would be happy to describe for you if you like. She isn’t interested in having a man in her pussy, but if that changes, she’ll go elsewhere. I fantasize about it… about her telling me that the sex with her boyfriend becomes electric knowing that my penis stays home in its little cage and behaves itself.
My mom likes to smack my balls. Not because of my penis size but to make me jump, to see me double over, my face screwed up, and hear my little “Ohh.” I don’t like testicle pain at all. I’d much rather she spank me, and we’ve tried it once or twice but she hasn’t gotten into it. I think she’ll enjoy it when she sees it is free. For now, two surprise slaps to the balls is more her style. So, I’m practicing to learn how to find the humor in my distress the way she does. I’ve started to hitch up my briefs to make my balls a more prominent target. Especially when I’m in my cage.
Whether I’m alone or in her presence, my squirts come very quickly these days. Last week she hung out in bed as I lay quietly on my back beside her with the vibrator on my penis. I don’t think it was much more than two minutes before my hips did their little contraction dance. When the cream spilled out on my belly and my little crisis was over, she asked, “That’s all? … That’s it?” I felt inadequate that I was disappointing her. But I guess it’s just as it should be. It’s what little boys do. Perhaps I’ll get to a place where the release is pure biological necessity, so unsatisfying nothing comes out; Just little dry throbs like before I was 10. If that happens, I’ll wear the frustration and humiliation like a badge.
I wrote this after receiving a letter from a man who, as a teenager was ridiculed by his date for his small penis, and who spent many years in shame of his size. I felt very badly for the man.
I wish men with small penises were honored for their condition and encouraged to fulfill their important beta male role which should hold a special place in our culture. He’s the one who can really excel at FLR.
I don’t have a small penis but there are times I wish I did. It would help me better to learn humility and service. In my FLR relationship, my actual size is irrelevant since it isn’t used for PIV (Penis in vagina ) or PIA (Penis in anywhere)
. But given the cultural imperative that bigger is better, thinking of myself as small has helped free me from the challenge to compete. It’s exciting to make believe I’m small.My wife is quite happy about my subdued penis. When she sees it frustrated, she likes to say, “Is your little penis bothering you?” She doesn’t cater to my sexual needs. She lets me have them. The last few times we had intercourse, it was mostly about me excited -- she amused (but never contemptuous), encouraging me to have my fun. You know like when you were a kid and you’re learning something new like how to keep your head down when you dive or to hit a tennis ball off a Tee… you wanted mom to watch you. That was years ago.
My release? Well, I wouldn’t call them orgasms but I am permitted to squirt once a week, which is a lot really for a chaste hubby when I read what a denied life some of us lead. Oh, don’t get me wrong. It took me a long time to get here, to make the necessary sacrifices and do the training to become what we both want. And please don’t misunderstand, I trained myself and offered the sacrifices willingly. They were my ideas, and I am very happy she accepted them graciously. Given the way our culture expects women to be, it took some time for her to become comfortable with being completely free of obligation.
I might as well come out and say it. I have become a jerkoff. My Mommy’s little jerkoff boy. I have been for a few years and yet it is still embarrassing to confess because of the expectations and stereotypes our culture has of men.
Every Friday I get to jerk my little penis to a squirt. I say “get to” but it is really her schedule. I’ve offered longer but she’s of the use-it-or-lose-it school. She usually reminds me in the morning before we get out of bed. If she forgets, I’ll wait. She’ll remember later; once it was two days. She asks me why I don’t remind her and the best I can respond is it would be impolite.
Sometimes she’ll throw on a dress and go downstairs, leaving me to my own devices. Then I might grab my laptop and look for a fantasy to fall into. It will often be a scene where the male is the aggressor, fucking someone else’s wife up her ass. I love that. I still go back to the role of the dom even though it will never come true for me again. Fantasy It keeps the memory and yearning alive. But by the time I’m ready to spurt myself, I’m no longer imagining myself the aggressive male. I’m the cuck in the corner, watching and wishing, feeling her pleasure as if it was my own. And it is.
The training began when I suggested she didn’t need to have my semen inside, and she got in the habit of having me slide out and come on her belly. Later it became her placing her hands on my hips and pushing. Soon I was squirting hands free on my knees between her spread legs. Afterwards, vulnerable and exposed, kneeling before her, my head would hang, completely subdued.
After a while we stopped having intercourse with my penis… quite a while ago. Now I spend most days in a chastity device. The sex is really good. She has wonderful orgasms I would be happy to describe for you if you like. She isn’t interested in having a man in her pussy, but if that changes, she’ll go elsewhere. I fantasize about it… about her telling me that the sex with her boyfriend becomes electric knowing that my penis stays home in its little cage and behaves itself.
My mom likes to smack my balls. Not because of my penis size but to make me jump, to see me double over, my face screwed up, and hear my little “Ohh.” I don’t like testicle pain at all. I’d much rather she spank me, and we’ve tried it once or twice but she hasn’t gotten into it. I think she’ll enjoy it when she sees it is free. For now, two surprise slaps to the balls is more her style. So, I’m practicing to learn how to find the humor in my distress the way she does. I’ve started to hitch up my briefs to make my balls a more prominent target. Especially when I’m in my cage.
Whether I’m alone or in her presence, my squirts come very quickly these days. Last week she hung out in bed as I lay quietly on my back beside her with the vibrator on my penis. I don’t think it was much more than two minutes before my hips did their little contraction dance. When the cream spilled out on my belly and my little crisis was over, she asked, “That’s all? … That’s it?” I felt inadequate that I was disappointing her. But I guess it’s just as it should be. It’s what little boys do. Perhaps I’ll get to a place where the release is pure biological necessity, so unsatisfying nothing comes out; Just little dry throbs like before I was 10. If that happens, I’ll wear the frustration and humiliation like a badge.
