Little Love

Chase hadn't heard form his buddy Marshall in over a year. There was a time they hung out a fair bit, but ever since he made a surreptitious pass at the cutie they'd been distant.

Couldn't blame him for taking his chances. Chase had a crush on his sometime bestie ever since they met. Marshall was short but perfect - with puppy eyes, a fulsome beard, and pert bubble butt. Stinky and hairy like men should be. Chase knew he was straight, and Marshall knew Chase was gay, but they found themselves laying side by side on Marshall's mattress in the moonlight all the same.

No words were needed. Staring at the boy across the pillows, Chase's eyes did all the talking. When Marshall caught sight of his pal's loaded gaze, he switched the drunken chat they'd been sharing to a whole bunch of garbled nonsense about some girl he was seeing - neutralising the gayness and making his position clear.

A neat put-down, executed without any malice. After that they drifted apart. Until now.

Marshall missed him, and it was his suggestion they catch up over pint. Sliding into a booth at the Greenbank, they bantered and gabbed like no time had passed at all. Felt so great to be together again. Time flew by, and several pints later the conversation settled into more serious matters.

"You seeing someone at the moment?" Chase enquired - putting his own feelings aside, genuinely interested to hear about fit lad's love life.

"Nah," Marshall shook his head.

Perhaps it was always his intention they should eventually talk about girls? Marshall needed to get something off his hairy chest, and who else was there to talk to? Chase would understand. He was always there for him, so sympathetic and kind - a true friend.

"Women don't want short guys," he continued, suddenly overcome with the heavy sadness that afflicted him this past year, "It's hard enough to even get a date. They see your stats on Tindr, and if you're within an inch of their height they swipe left without a second thought. And then..."

He broke off, staring into his pint as if the amber liquid might show him a parallel world in which he wasn't ghosted on dating apps, or stung with rejection over his other crucial shortcoming.

"And then what?" Chase asked gently, thinking that Marshall was on the verge of opening up about something huge.

As it turns out, Marshall was opening up about something tiny. He looked so sad and beautiful, his eyes sparkling with doubt. Chase really wanted to be there for him, to be his best friend when he needed it most,

"...you can tell me anything, Marshall," He offered.

Slowly Marshall lifted his face. He was ready to cry - tears glittering as they wobbled on his lids.

"And then they see my penis," he concluded emotionally.

On cue a teardrop rolled down his cheek, dragging a sob-load of salty water down with it and splashing off his sleeve. Having finally confessed this terrible secret, the floodgates were open and his worries tumbled over one another to be heard.

"It's so small, Chase. It's tiny. It's pathetic. It's a micropenis. Girls laugh at it. They laugh! Sometimes Girls fake orgasms. Some Girls walk out. I never see them again if they find out how small and useless I am."

Lost for words, Chase could only put his arm around the boy, and Marshall sank into his hold, juddering silently as he wept.

Chase never felt so conflicted and guilty. His heart really hurt for Marshall. He was the nicest, cutest guy in the world. Mother Nature can be cruel. But Chase also had a boner big enough to bust right out his shorts and slap that sexy crybaby in face.

If Marshall had any idea just how much small-penis porn his pal was burning through! Chase loved small dicks - the smaller, the better. Nothing got him hard and wet faster than a silly, choady little micropenis. And now his sexiest friend - his favourite crush - was cuddling close, telling him just how nice and tiny he was.

Chase could smell Marshall's pits as he hugged the half-pint stud, wanting to kiss him right there and then - to wipe his tears with one hand, and place his fingertips on Marshall's buried bellend with the other, teasing naughty drops of joy from his boy-clit.

"Marshall," he dared to speak, ready to take his chances a second time, "could you ever let a Man love you?"

The boy didn't answer, instead burying his head into Chase's hoodie and holding him tighter. His embrace gave Chase the courage to continue.

"I'd never walk out on you," he promised in a a murmur, speaking directly to Marshall's broken heart, "...I'd never walk out on your peenie, babe."

God knows Marshall needed to be loved. A stream of uncaring Women had left him in pieces. Perhaps he was ready to try the love of a Man? Before he knew it, they were kissing - slow and passionate, a kiss of true surrender.

Marshall immediately recognised the difference with kissing Women. He trusted Chase completely. He was nervous for sure, but there was no suspicion, no creeping sense of dread. He knew Chase's heart, and every next thing he said only settled his anxieties further,

"You're perfect just the way you are," Chase told him, "every little bit of you. And I want every little bit of you - especially your tiny penis. I dream of it. always have..."

Marshall never imagined such things could be said, but hearing them filled him with light. He felt desired for the first time, his choad stirring in his boxers and soaking his cottons with pee. Chase's hands wandered, tapping his bump-less crotch, and Marshall wanted to be up in his room where sparks could fly freely.

"Let's go back to my place," he suggested breathlessly, speaking for the first time since his tears dried up.

Chase broke off pashing his buddy with a start. He had achieved total success, and was only a fifteen minute walk away from realising his hottest sexual fantasy. His whole being thirsted for a taste of Marshall.

In no time at all (stopping only to make-out in random doorways here and there) Chase was following his bestie into the darkness behind his bedroom door. Falling backwards on the bed, (the same bed in which their eyes had met the time before), the real touching began. Marshall's torso, Marshall's butt, Marshall's thighs. Chase couldn't wait, and reached directly for the boy's dinkus, snatching a handful of piss-soaked boxer shorts and rubbing around for a feel of his prize. To his monumental delight, Chase couldn't discern a penis in his fumbling at all. Marshall was that small, he couldn't tell if folds in the wet fabric were making lumps or if there was really something going on under his fingertips?

All this lust and ardor was transmitted to Marshall through Chase's groping, and he couldn't wait to throw his clothes off - to show his bestie everything he was begging for - to let him see just exactly how little he was packing down there. Poking both thumbs under the waistband of his shorts, Marshall swept them down, finally giving Chase what he'd been asking for, and offering his nakedness up to the promise of sex.

There in a beam of orange streetlight that fell through the window, Marshall's wet glans peeped like a clit from a pillowy hole. Completely absent any shaft, unable to show it's satisfaction standing even an inch, it could only glisten with the fragile hope it might be wanted and loved. Chase watched as a nervous drop of wee jumped out, and his heart nearly burst with adoration.

"Fuck Marshall, your fucking beautiful!" he managed to blurt before devouring the delicacy on display.

With licks and chomps and sucks, Chase brought forth fresh pee, savouring every salty drop and causing his blushing crush to crease and writhe with pleasure. He drank it all down with unquenchable thirst, never wanting to part his lips from that stubby. Only the eventual thought of victory kisses brought him back up for air, and catching a sight of Marshall's elated face made him eager to dive for more.

Slowly, one item at a time, their clothes were stripped away, until they tussled in nothing but their socks. Marshall's shy, silly boy-clit bumped up against Chase's long, meaty shaft, and he finally gave in to years of unspoken curiosity about real Men's dicks. Sensing the wonder in Marshall's uncertain fingers, Chase allowed him the space to explore.

At first he ran a fingertip up and down the length of Chase, caressing the underside of his boner. Then he took hold of it, gripping it's girth and testing it's strength. It was a sensation he'd never felt before, gripping a dick. A Real dick. Slowly jerking it - rolling the skin up and over the head, and pulling it back down, he marvelled at the power of it.

"Do you want me to fuck you with it?" Chase dared to offer with a smirk, and that was when Marshall realised that this was exactly where he belonged.

Mother Nature wasn't being mean when she singled boys out to inherit her special gift - She was creating natural little faggots with tiny dicks especially for hung Tops to adore. Marshall had always felt like the runt, but he was really the pet.

Chase fell back onto Marshall's chub with purpose, determined to score a nut. If only micropenis boys everywhere knew the truth, Marshall thought to himself as the cum jumped out of his button, splashing Chase's tongue. If they all just quit trying to date Women and let a real Man tune them up, the whole world would be different. Small penis bros would be worshiped, placed back on the pedestals like in ancient Rome.

Did the Romans know it? Were they all railing tiny dick boys, and confessing their love by moonlight? Lady Luck had bestowed unto Marshall that happiness, and in the shooting of his load, he glimpsed an inkling of the blisses that were yet to come. His prostate buzzed with the promise of it. Chase had shown him the way.