The Size Sorority: 1.4

His heart pounded against his ribs as he approached the lion’s den. Alexis led him by the hand up the three steps onto the porch, and they barely drew the attention of the girls congregated there. He didn’t look at them, but was aware of them in his periphery. Their conversation was inane, some social miscue experienced by a pledge or something, a bright and cheerful story despite its innate meanness. Their heads followed his path as he entered the house with Alexis, but no one said a thing, no wolf whistle, no crude nickname whispered or shouted.

He entered the hall that he’d fled on Sunday morning, passing through it holding hands with the pretty girl he met at a Mexican restaurant who apparently wanted to fuck him. Again, the conversation at the dining room table amongst a half dozen pretty sorority girls in shorts and pajama pants went uninterrupted, despite his perceived small-dick celebrity. No one stopped to say anything. Either the size of his penis had been forgotten, gotten old, or (and most likely) a girl sneaking a boy up to her room was nothing that drew anyone’s attention around here.

They mounted the steps together and at the top landing made their way along the familiar Oriental runner that stretched to the end of the long hall. She led him past the room of the girl whose bed he had woken in, past the room where the Asian girl had exited, and made their way almost to the end of the hall.

She said, “Right here,” putting her hand on a brass doorknob on a narrow wooden door on the right hand side. They entered her room.

It was small, and a mirrored image of the one he’d woken in on the weekend. No roommates for Alexis at the sorority, this was a room for one. The space was festooned with the accoutrements of a college girl. Inspirational statements, whiteboard with scribblings in marker, a series of calendars, boy band posters, a poster of Rihanna where someone had drawn a word balloon from her snarling lips that read: Get Out My Way. Her curtain was closed, but he tried to imagine what these windows looked out on. Probably a garden that ran behind the house.

“I like your room,” he said.

Alexis was shrugging out of her coat, and she said, “Boy, that’s good. Imagine you hated it and had to scramble out of here.”

“Not likely,” he joked.

“Not likely,” she agreed. She threw her jacket on the floor and went to him, wrapping her arms around his just below his shoulders, her lips seeking his. He kissed her, fully on her pretty pouting lips.

They made out like that for a while, faces twisting on one another, his hands going over her body on top of her clothes. Soon hers came together between them, undoing his belt buckle. This was for real.

Buckle slipped through the roller, she worked now on his button and his zipper. Under the fabric, he was fully hard. Not as embarrassing a size as he was in the Mexican restaurant, but still embarrassing. Alexis was eager though. Alexis was into this.

There was no surprise here, she knew everything about him that he usually hated to have addressed. So he roped his arms around her waist and hugged her to him; she grunted, complied, throwing her knees up in the air and hugging her thighs around his waist. He walked her to her unmade bed and lay her down on it, climbing on top of her. They kissed still, and he worked with one hand to unbutton the front of her shirt—gasping suddenly, as her warm hand wrapped itself around his erection.

"It’s so small," she whispered. It was the kind of thing someone said that would stab his heart, but tonight it made it pound. He thrusted through her hand, and she stroked it.

He whispered, "You like it?"

She broke the kiss and gasped, "I like it just fine."

He ventured: "You like my little dick?"

"Yeah, I like this tiny little dick you have."

Now he had her shirt open and he kissed between her breasts, over her bra, down her tummy, his hands working at undoing a big wooden button over her hip that kept her skirt fastened. When it was undone, he stood, letting his untucked shirt hanging over him to hide his small arousal. It had excited him to hear her label it as small, but old habits die hard. And he didn’t like girls to see the size of it compared to the rest of his tall frame. He took the hem of her skirt and tugged it down bringing her tights along, slowly revealing her black panties. She writhed on the bed, wiggling her hips to help him get her undressed. Then he was over top of her again, her in just bra and panties. He kissed her neck and her collar while her hands folded behind her and undid the bra. When it loosened he pushed it away with his chin, seeking her nipple with his mouth. He suckled it, and her hands went over his head, nails scratching at his scalp. His fingers dipped into her waistband, pulled the panties down her thighs, and she kicked them away. Now she was naked and his shirt was undone and his pants hung loosely at his thighs.

"Get a condom," she whispered.

Fuck. In all the excitement, he’d forgotten. Yet again he was unarmed. Unprotected. The same thing happened on Sunday, going home with that blonde haired photo-taking witch, winding up in her bedroom, using her condoms, none of which were small enough to fit him. The tragedies of that night overwhelming him in the following days, making him disregard the one most important take away from that evening: always having appropriate protection. He worked at her nipples again, working his way down her body, intending to end up in that hot patch between her creamy thighs. He wasn’t drunk tonight. He wasn’t drunk, and if they didn’t have a condom, he was still going to do wonderful things to this pretty girl.

She repeated, "Get a condom."

He whispered across her navel, "I don’t have any on me."

"In my drawer," she gasped, and he thought of ways to broach the subject that they probably weren't going to fit him. Reading his mind, she whispered, "I have snug-fit."

Now his pulse raced again, and while this labeled him as small, showed she recognized his diminutive endowment, it still excited him. One, they were going to be able to have sex tonight. Two, she was prepared for guys with small packages. Could he have found some girl who was beautiful, funny, smart enough to attend NHU, and had some sort of small-size fetish? She had seen his picture and sought him out. She wanted what he had. The thing that he had between his legs raged hard and straight and steely. And he stretched himself across her bed, reaching up to her night table and pulling open the top drawer. His hand fumbled around grabbing light cardboard boxes, hearing the scratching foil inside, knowing they were boxes of condoms. He held one up to the light and saw Magnum. Definitely not. Held up another they just said Trojan. Not that one either. He searched around further, found another one, pulled it out and saw that they were labeled as snug fitting. These were the ones. He brought them to the bed, opened the box, fighting conflicting thoughts within him right now, asking him what he thought about all those boxes of condoms. Was she some slut? Maybe she didn’t like little ones, maybe she liked big ones, medium ones—maybe she liked them all. It didn’t matter, and now was not the time to ruin the evening with self-conscious thinking. He tore open the foil, and now Alexis was climbing on him, taking the opened condom out of his hand.

"Let me," she said. "You’re taking forever."

They both laughed as she got on top of him, completely naked, his shirt opened, pants still pulled down to his middle thigh. She was on her knees, her rump squatting over his belt buckle and he admired her beautiful body while she sorted out which way the condom rolled down. He ran hands up and down her bare legs, feeling how flawless her flesh was. Her breasts gently swayed, then were pressed together as she brought her hands down to his erection. She held the little condom between the thumb and forefinger of one hand and circled his base with the thumb and forefinger of the other. She pinched him tight, and guided the condom to go over his glans. He watched her work. He said, "You like little ones?"

"I do," she said. "And yours is the littlest one I’ve seen."

"Are you joking?"

Alexis smirked and then used her thumb and forefinger to roll the condom down his shaft. She said, "Yeah… Well, no. Probably not. It’s really small." Her words stiffened him further, and he forced her to fall on his chest by bringing his knees up rapidly. She collapsed on his bare chest, laughing, kissing his chin, and then pressing her cheek to him.

She whispered in his ear, "Fuck me with that tiny dick."

Now he rolled Alexis over, throwing her onto her back on her own bed, climbing up on top of her, getting between her thighs. She was eager and compliant, opening herself to him, laughing, having a good time. Her knees came up, and he guided his rock hard erection inside her. It slipped inside her very easily, and she made no sound. He stroked in and out, finding her breasts with his hands, kissing her shoulder, wishing he could make her cry out. But that was not something that Michael Fallon could do. He pounded away regardless, driving his body against her so at least she would grunt as air was pushed out of her by the force he applied. Her hands caressed his sides, up and down, rubbing his back. She was quiet and calm. He began to think she was just waiting for him to put it in.

Feeling aroused and a little out of his mind with ecstasy, he grunted, “Ask me if it’s in.”

“Really?”

“Ask me,” he grunted, driving away.

She whispered, “Tell me when it’s in.”

“It is in,” he grunted.

“No, it’s not,” she sighed.

“I’m all the way in,” he grunted, powering away, feeling himself swelling within, getting closer and closer.

Alexis whispered, “Stop teasing me, Michael, tell me when you put it in me.”

He had no comeback. Sweat dotted his brow and his hips machined into her, shaking the bed. She gasped now, sensing him close, her arm going around his neck. She whispered in his ear, “I think I feel it. I think I feel it, Michael . . . it’s in now, isn’t it?”

That was it. Her words whispering gently across his ear sent off his rockets. All his missiles launching up inside her, a full-scale attack. He thrust and thrust, filling up his teeny condom with his massive load. Pumping and pumping while the girl he was with still made no sound of enjoyment.

When he was done, and a certain wave of shame began to lick up his back, he rose over her, lifting himself up with his arms. He kissed her shoulder. He looked her over; she was wordless, a half a smile threatening to pull wider. It seemed like she wondered what to make of this, what do you do now, what do you do when a man can’t satisfy you?

Alexis was innocent and pretty; she seemed like a sweet person. Kindhearted, someone who he could spend time with. So he slipped off the condom, squeezed his shaft into it as it unrolled and slid off, and let it drop to the floor next to the bed. Alexis still couldn’t say anything, eyes bright, lips hesitating, not knowing what to say. She made to pull the sheets up to cover herself, but now Michael lowered himself again. He kissed between her breasts, ran his tongue down her Linnea Alba to the tight, shallow cup of her navel, flicking and rolling with a tongue tip, then lower until he smelled latex from where he’d burned her membranes with his intense friction.

"Oh, Michael," she sighed.

Then he took her, took her like he’d studied, like he’d learned to do. Running the flat of his tongue, pressing all of her folds down and flat, making them wet with his saliva. Then darting up his tongue, coming to a point and running in the folds she had there. She was coppery and sweet smelling, a girl who kept herself clean. She was heavenly between her legs. His tongue went quicker, making each side of her furled flesh wet and ready, probing, and teasing into her canal, then up over her, soaring back down again, tongue tip riding over the crest of her hood, knowing what he sought lay underneath. Alexis's sighing stopped, and soft girlish squeaking began. When her nails scratched at his scalp again, his heart rate resumed its steady pounding. He had her; he had her and he knew what he was doing. He found that membranous pleasure lump under her hood, teasing and pulling with his lips until it became hard rubber, then he controlled it, using the soft gasps she uttered to fine tune his pleasuring. He worked her for half an hour; he wasn’t counting, but he knew Alexis had come at least four times. Some of them were small, some of them were big, but her body was telling him she was capable of more. So he worked her like that, twisting in the sheets with her, Alexis flat on her back, sometimes on her side, her thighs pressed around his ears. He even one time made her come while she was on all fours. He put his tongue in her anus that time. But now he had her back where they started: her head in her pillow, her knees up to her breasts, her legs wide for him, letting this welcome guest do what he pleased. He worked her until her belly began to roll like waves on a stormy ocean. Her breath came faster and faster and she began to gasp and chant. Not his name, though he wished she would, just unintelligible sounds. Her hands came away from his head and he chanced a glance up along her beautiful body to see her now clenching her fists against her own forehead. It was coming.

He plunged his tongue harder, working her clit with the root, while his tongue curled to point into her canal, he mashed her hard, pushing that button into her own flesh, and she bucked against him as she came.

Now she cried out. Now she cried his name. Not his full given name, just a high bright and very welcome Mike!

It was explosive. She hip-humped him so hard her vulva pounded that spot under his nose and made his nostrils run. But he stuck with it; one-hundred percent dedicated to Alexis's pleasure.

He rode her out, dragging her pleasure for a few minutes. When he rose, he found her on the verge of sleep; out of it, her beautiful body glistening with sweat. He kissed the fronts of her thighs as he got out from between her legs, and she closed them together. She was done now. Too sensitive for him to continue. His work was done anyway.

Now he pulled the sheet up to cover her, and he lay next to her and pulled her close so they spooned.