My little cocky and me
Here's my 2 cents on this cock size thing for what it's worth. (And, like my cocky, I know it's not much, whether you take length or you take girth.)
First, you should know my cocky is tiny--a full 4" at its purple-headed throbbing glorified best, maybe 4.5" on a good engorged day, 2" at rest.
And second, you should know I've been rejected by more than one pretty girl. My crimes: too fast, too small--no stretch, no stroke, no sex, no swirl, so they say.
Though some called me "chunky" at 5" around. Is that a compliment? Don't think so; think there I'm on shaky ground.
So, I tried romance--the wine, the candles, the music, the chatting, kissing, wooing, cooing, rubbing, holding, ear blowing Don Juan lover kind--and yes, it sometimes worked fine.
It opened them wide, it greased them with luck, but in the moment of truth things got fucked up.
No matter how hard I tried, my little cocky would slip and slide--no traction, no friction, no...well, no nothing, Jack.
They ached for more. Ached for a real cock to give them real stretching, real fullness, real penetration from missionary to cowgirl to doggie and back.
But me and my cocky, we couldn't do squat. No way, Jose. Throw away those condoms you bought--you won't need them today.
And technique--ha! I tried it all, not just in and out, but up and down, left and right, (press against that clitoris--give it all you've got!) fast and slow, hard and soft, round and round in circles, a regular Roto-Router alien crop-circle-in-the-dead-of-night.
Result: giggles, and yeah, some stretching that made me feel like a wiggly worm looking for ore in the sweaty walls of a gaping gold mine. Then more giggles. Then ennui. Then pushing me off. Let's see...then, "never mind, what's on TV?"
But all is not lost. Lucky, I'm kinda cucky, kinda subby, and I know who's boss. No fucky, but I do good oral, good sucky; I give good massage, good licky, good rubby. Yes, I cook, I clean, an all around--well almost--good subby hubby machine.
I know my purpose: to serve my woman, but in a different, non-intercourse way. "Non-intercourse"--words that choke me to say.
I know she has needs--the sexual kind, the raw lost-in-delirious-lust-fuck-me-deep-and-hard-until I orgasm kind.
But I can't give her what I ain't got. So, can I satisfy her? I think not.
She needs her lovers who thrust and stroke and stretch her juicy wide. I know that, and sometimes I watch; sometimes...well, sometimes I hide.
I'm not jealous Jake. It's just that the passion, the kissing, the whispering, the caressing, the cuddling...well, it's not always easy to take.
So, I dress like a sissy, pink bow, pink panties, a regular maid, to take orders, to serve, to prissy parade.
It makes it all better, her lovers like it too. Weird, they say, but don't worry, this sissy isn't going to hit you, not hard anyway. Couldn't catch you in those high-heel shoes that came from eBay.
And somehow, the pressure is less. No one expects you to fuck in a dress.
But lick...ha! That's another matter. A maid must clean, it's her job you see. So call me Licky, yeah, that's me. Licky, sucky, just no fucky. It's funny 'cause they laugh watching me--me stroking me, me feeding me--even better when I do it on TV for all to see.
My panties are wet, sticky spots you'd be embarrassed to see, as I bathe and shave and dress my beautiful wife for her lover-to-be. She's gorgeous in silk and heels and hose, her glistening lips, sinewy legs, and long hair flowing like my--no, make that his--soon bride-to-be. He gets the pink; she gets the rose from him, not me.
She is tops and I know my place--to love, to support, keep her warm, keep her safe.
So, the bottom line to this has to be: this is our life and we both are insane with white-hot love for our one, our only, and forever superior cuckolding wife--my little cucky and me.
