Ryan's days at Apex Investments followed a predictable rhythm... arrive early, drown in data, avoid eye contact with the higher-ups, and slip out unnoticed at 6 PM.
But the nights...those were sacred, a private sanctuary where he shed the facade of the unassuming analyst and embraced the cravings that simmered beneath.
Tonight, like most, he arrived home to his dim apartment, the weight of the family's latest plea still echoing from Mom's morning call.
Jayden's tuition loomed larger, a $1,500 shortfall that gnawed at him. He microwaved leftovers stale pasta from two days ago and ate standing at the counter, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. Work emails pinged, but he ignored them.
The ritual called...
Click!
He locked the door, double-checking out of habit, though no one ever visited. The bedroom was his domain: unmade bed, laptop on the nightstand, blinds drawn against the city's prying eyes. He stripped methodically, folding his clothes neatly on the chair a remnant of his orderly upbringing.
Naked, he stood before the full-length mirror propped against the wall, appraising himself with a critical eye. His body was a betrayal: short stature, slim frame that refused muscle, hips that curved softly like a woman's.
His chest was flat but smooth, nipples small and sensitive, hardening at the slightest chill. And below, his penis....three inches erect, thin as a pencil...hung limp, a constant reminder of inadequacy. High school taunts replayed
"Tiny dick Ryan, couldn't fuck a keyhole hahahah."they laughed. Even the girls didn't spare him talk less of the teachers
He'd masturbated furiously back then, seeking release from the humiliation, but it only seemed to stunt him further, locking him in this perpetual boyishness.
The ritual began with preparation. He dimmed the lights to a soft glow, lit a single candle for ambiance vanilla scented, masking the loneliness.
Laptop open, he sank into the sheets, propping pillows behind his back. No rush; this was indulgence. His bookmarks were organized: "Black Dom Compilation," "Sub Worship," "Monster Cock Destruction." He selected a favorite site, free tier only subscriptions were a luxury he couldn't justify yet.
Thumbnails tempted muscular black men dominating petite subs, cocks like weapons, faces contorted in ecstasy and surrender.
He chose carefully tonight: a video titled "Femboy Broken by BBC." The preview showed a slim white guy, not unlike himself, on all fours, ass arched high. Ryan's cock stirred as he hit play, volume low but clear through headphones.
The scene opened slow....the sub crawling toward the dom, a towering black man with rippling abs and a smirk that screamed control. "On your knees, pussy," the dom commanded, voice deep and authoritative.
The sub obeyed, eyes wide with adoration. Ryan's hand drifted down, fingers grazing his nipples first pinching, twisting until pain sparked into pleasure.
Aha~His tiny length hardened quickly, pre-cum beading at the tip.
As the sub licked the dom's massive shaft..nine inches at least, thick and veined...Ryan mirrored with his imagination. He stroked slowly, base to tip, savoring the build. "Beg for it," the dom growled in a primal tone.
"Please, sir, let me worship your monster dick," the sub whimpered. Ryan mouthed the words, his free hand trailing lower, cupping his balls, then circling his hole.
Fuck..ahn.ah
He'd discovered anal play in college, a finger at first during sessions, unlocking new depths of sensation. Tonight, he slicked a digit with siliva, teasing the rim as the video escalated.
The dom grabbed the sub's hair, forcing his mouth down.
Slurp! Slurp!
Gags echoed, throat bulging. Ryan pushed his finger in, knuckle-deep, curling to hit that spot.
"Fuck," he whispered, hips bucking. His cock throbbed in his fist, but he edged, denying release. The shame was part of it..the voice in his head calling him pathetic, a sissy who couldn't please anyone but himself.
Yet it fueled him, amplifying the high. He switched videos mid-stroke: a glory hole scene, anonymous black cocks emerging one by one. The sub knelt, servicing them eagerly..licking, sucking, swallowing loads.
Ryan added a second finger, scissoring, stretching himself. His nipples ached now, puffy from abuse, a drop of clear fluid leaking when he squeezed hard. "I'm just like him," he thought, eyes glued to the screen. "A pussy craving black dick."
"To be used and dumped"
The sub in the video begged for penetration, ass presented. The dom obliged, pushing in raw, the stretch visible. Ryan humped his hand faster, fingers plunging in rhythm.
Fantasies flooded: Mr. Carter in that role, his boss's voice commanding him to bend over the desk, owning him completely.
The climax approached too soon..the paused, breathing ragged, cock leaking profusely. Edging prolonged the escape, delaying the post-nut clarity where reality crashed back: debts, isolation, inadequacy.
He resumed, switching to a gangbang clip..three black men using a sub's holes relentlessly. "Take it all, slut," one said, pounding deep.
Ahn...hmmm..ha..ha!
Ryan's moans grew louder, uncaring if neighbors heard. Third finger now, burning stretch mimicking the video. His tiny penis pulsed, orgasm building like a wave.
"Yes... fuck me," he gasped, imagining the weight, the fullness. Cum spurted weakly across his stomach..thin ropes, quickly cooling. He lay there, panting, video looping in the background. Shame washed over, stronger tonight with the family's needs fresh in mind. "What am I doing?" he muttered, cleaning up with tissues.
But the hunger lingered, a void unfilled by solo play. Work tomorrow another day blending in, stealing glances at Carter, wondering if real submission could quench this.
He closed the laptop, candle flickering out. Sleep came slow, dreams blending porn with pleas for money. The ritual was comfortable, yes..but also chains, pulling him deeper into obsession. Tomorrow, he'd search for that side gig. Something easy. Something..... fitting.