The Anniversary Gift

The Anniversary Gift

Author's note:

If you do not enjoy a sexual fantasy that prominently features domination and humiliation, then this will not be for you. Otherwise, enjoy!

Ten years. We were fifteen when we met and became friends. That was twenty years ago. We were seventeen when we began dating and twenty five when we got married. And now, at thirty five, we're celebrating our aluminum anniversary, though the piece of jewelry I bought her for the occasion is a far cry from aluminum.

We're still just as good of friends today as we were in high school. Almost too good. We're more friends than we are husband and wife. It's most evident on the romance side of things, particularly when it comes to the bedroom. We just never connected that well physically.

Caryn is as pretty as she was the day we were married. Actually, she is beautiful. That is an objective observation that cannot be argued. She has straight jet black hair, green eyes and a fit figure. As for me, I am constantly being told that I haven't changed a bit either. I know I'm a good looking guy. Actually, the word most often used to describe me is "cute". I was cute in high school and I am apparently still cute today. But we just never seem to be on the same page with sex.

It doesn't help that I travel every other week for work. That has been the case for our whole marriage, but my job has gotten us our big beautiful house, our luxury cars and it provided Caryn with the capital she needed to start her own business, which is now thriving.

To prove the point that we act more like friends than lovers, we chose to celebrate our big night out at our favorite Bar-b-que spot rather than at a romantic restaurant. And that's when Caryn surprises me. As we're finishing our desserts, she says, "Oh, by the way, we're not going home tonight."

I raise an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"We're going to the Hotel Indigo. I reserved a room for us."

She has never said anything, but she must be disappointed with our almost nonexistent sex life. How could she not be? On the rare occasions that we give things a try, it never ends well. More often than not, I simply fizzle out before either of us gets anywhere. I end up apologizing a million times and she reassures me repeatedly that it's okay. How long has it been since our last attempt? A month? Two? Longer? Probably. Maybe she thinks a change of scenery will change the result. It won't. The setting isn't my problem.

I tell her, "I'm not exactly dressed up for a nice hotel." Neither of us are. Since we chose the BBQ joint, we're both in jeans and sneakers.

She giggles, "No problem. You don't need fancy clothes when your plans do not involve leaving the room."

Oh. I guess the plan is to work on our intimacy issues. This is about sex. Suddenly my heart rate increases and my palms get sweaty. "But I also didn't pack a bag. At the very least I need--"

She cuts me off, "James, I've got your overnight bag packed and in the trunk of the car. I just wanted to surprise you. Everything you need and more is in that bag."

I have no further protests. None that hold any water. I guess we're going to the hotel.

~~

We're all checked in and the elevator has delivered us to the sixth floor. I feel underdressed walking the halls of this nice hotel in my Nike high-tops. When I open the door to our room, I'm surprised to see that it's a double - there are two queen sized beds. I suppose we'll have our separate sleep space after. After what? After disappointment? After deflation? After failure? I'm sure to disappoint her again.

She says, "We're going to try something new tonight."

I say nothing.

"A little role playing."

I do not reply.

"Do you trust me?"

I feel like I owe her an affirmative response, so I nod.

"Pick a bed and lie down. On your back."

"Should I change?"

"No."

"Undress?"

"No."

"Take off my shoes at least?" I hope she says yes to that one. I chose special socks for the occasion.

"No." She puts her hand on my forearm, "I'll take care of everything. Don't worry. Leave it to me."

I do what she says, but I'm still gonna worry. I choose a bed and lie down as Caryn picks up one of our duffle bags. She says, "Here's where the trust comes into play." She pulls a strip of nylon fabric out of the bag, wraps it around my right wrist and ties me to the bed post.

"Um..."

She shushes me, "Trust."

She moves down to the foot of the bed. One at a time she pushes my jeans a few inches up my calves and wraps more straps of fabric around my ankles above my high-top sneakers. She anchors each foot to bottom corner bedposts. Finally, she secures my left wrist like she did my right and I am a bound and captive prisoner. She leans in like she's about to kiss me but she veers away at the last second and kisses my cheek instead of my lips.

She whispers in my ear, "I know what you like."

I'm pretty sure she doesn't. I hope she doesn't. I've been hiding my likes from her for twenty years now.

I shift nervously, as much as my restraints allow.

She trails a fingertip lightly down my inner arm from my wrist to my armpit. I squirm and giggle. "Tonight, all of your dreams and fantasies will come true. You are going to have the time of your life tonight." She stands, "That little dick of yours will finally start working."

Did she say "little dick"? She's never commented on my size before. "What do you think I like?" I ask tentatively.

"Remember last week when you were out of town and you needed me to send you a document that was saved on your laptop?"

Oh no. "Yes..."

"Your private laptop that I'd never used before. You had to give me the passcode, remember?"

My eyes bulge and I nod.

"Well, I was curious. After we hung up, I took advantage of having your code and I poked around."

Shit. What exactly does "poked around" mean?

"I figured it was my only shot because you would surely change the password as soon as you got home."

That's exactly what I did. Apparently too late.

"You have some interesting sites bookmarked and your recent browser history was even more interesting. Oh, my dear husband. I confirmed some suspicions and learned some crazy interesting things about you."

I swallow. Everyone has their things, right? Their turn-ons. Fetishes. You can't judge a person for them. Can you? Caryn doesn't exactly think I have erectile dysfunction, she has seen me wake up with morning wood. I just struggle to make wood for her. It functions just fine in the right circumstances. It works great when I'm home alone and reading erotic stories online or watching my favorite porn videos. In particular I like videos that involve humiliation. Male to male sexual humiliation, mostly SPH. I also enjoy a variety of gay male stories and videos involving hand jobs, blowjobs and cum shots. And some M/M tickling, especially when the ticklish dude is helplessly bound and captive. Kind of like I am right now. What exactly does she have in mind here. Is it too late for me to change my mind about trusting her?

"It honestly explains a lot about our nonexistent sexual chemistry," she says.

Yep. She discovered my fetishes. But even though I like SPH videos, F/M SPH does nothing for me. It's got to be M/M SPH. That's what I like. A bigger stronger man ridiculing a weak pathetic loser. That gets me going. Compare, humiliate and degrade. If Caryn watched those videos, then she knows. She said as much. She said that tonight I'm gonna get what I like. What am I about to face?

There's a knock at our door. How can she answer it? Whoever it is will see me all tied up.

She answers. Two very large, very muscled, very tall and very masculine men enter our room. They both look down at helpless tied up me and they laugh. Caryn excuses herself to the bathroom, leaving me alone with the two beefy hunks. I'm already stiffening up. Just proximity to these big hulks has me aroused. Add in their judgy glances and chuckles plus the fact that I'm helplessly bound... Yeah, I'm responding.

Hunk #1 asks me, "How old are you?"

I don't answer. I have no power in this situation, but I give nothing away.

He steps over and sits next to me on the bed. His bicep must be not much smaller than my waist. He puts both hands on my ribs and wiggles his fingers. I burst out into laughter. He asks me again how old I am, but now I'm laughing too hard to answer. He stops the torture and I gasp for air.

I say, "Thirty five."

He turns to his friend, "No way! He looks like he's eighteen." He turns back to me, "You look like a twink!"

I say nothing. I do look young for my age. Very young. I get carded all the time. I weigh the same 145 pounds that I weighed the day I graduated from high school. And none of that weight has shifted positions as years have passed by. I have the same twenty eight inch waist I've had since forever.

He decides to drill my ribs and armpits again and I scream and laugh. I don't know how staged and acted porn videos are, but this is real. Very real. Too real.

When he stops, he tells his friend, "This is going to be a fun night." He turns back to me, "You'd be surprised how many of the guys we service are gross. They're either overweight slobs or just plain ugly. But you? Tonight will be our pleasure as much as it is yours."

"Who are you guys? Why are you here?"

"You know why we're here. Your wife hired us. We are here to do a job. And we have all night to do it."

Hunk #1 swipes his finger across the strip of my exposed lower abdomen between my shirt and my jeans. He drags it repeatedly across from hipbone to hipbone and I quiver and shriek out. Caryn said that all of my fantasies would come true tonight. I guess we're starting with dominating men tickling the shit out of me while I'm tied down. I haven't been tickled since I took off for college leaving my brothers behind. My brothers were evil, one older and one younger. Whether they ganged up on me together or attacked me just one on one, I always lost. Especially humiliating was losing to my younger brother. Every time.

Hunk #1 grapples at my stomach and squeezes my sides while Hunk #2 squeezes me above the knees and up my inner thighs. I flop and thrash wildly to no avail. My shrieks turn to screams. #1 goes back to my ribs and I really might pass out.

They stop when Caryn finally emerges from the bathroom. She is in a skimpy sexy teddy and nothing else. She says to me, "Don't worry about making too much noise. I rented out the whole floor. It's just us. Scream away as you please."

The guys back off, she sits on my bed and things calm down. She says, "What if I told you I want you to make love to me all night with these guys watching?"

I say nothing.

She unzips my jeans and reaches her hand in my fly. It takes a moment, but she finally finds me, small and flaccid. She strokes me up and down and nothing changes. She says, "James, you really are just as cute as you were seventeen years ago. I may have married you for your money, but it could have worked out. We could have made this forever." She squeezes my limp noodle. It occurs to me that she has only taken my penis in her hand just a few times in ten years of marriage. Maybe it's because I'm not much of a handful.

Then she says, "What if I were to tell you that these guys heard that you have the smallest dick in the state and they had to come see it for themselves?"

I feel a bump.

"And after they see it, they're gonna discuss it in great detail, once they stop laughing."

I harden some more, still in her hand.

"Then they'll check it out...take it for a test drive."

I'm pretty much fully erect now.

Caryn takes her hand away and looks down at me. She scoffs, "That is the first erection I've given you in twenty years and it only happened because I was talking about dudes." She shakes her head. "Well, the heart wants what the heart wants. And so does the dick. You three have a long night ahead of you. Let's get my part out of the way and then I'll leave you to it."

She crosses over to the other bed and I ask, "You're leaving?"

"You don't need me here after the first part. You won't want me here."

Hunk #1 unbuttons my Tommy Bahama shirt and spreads it open, revealing my skinny scrawny torso. He laughs out loud, "See? I told you! A smooth twink. Like he's still eighteen." He takes all of me in with laser focused eyes, "Almost completely hairless." He pokes a finger in my navel and wiggles it around, "Nice belly button."

I don't want to but I giggle. My skinny body is devoid of muscles. Are muscles ticklish? Are they protection from being tickled? Never having had any, I wouldn't know.

Hunk #2 pulls off his shirt and he has muscles for days. He probably weighs 280 but his belly button is not an innie like mine because there's not an ounce of fat on him. He steps out of his combat boots, strips off his pants and socks and suddenly he's stark naked. Just as suddenly, I'm not noticing his not-so-innie belly button anymore because the elephant in the room now is his massive cock. It's the size of my arm and I don't even think it's hard yet, though it's so big that it's difficult to tell.

Hunk #1 begins to unbutton my pants. I try to twist away, but I can't. He says, "We've heard the rumors, but let's see what we're working with here."

There's no way I can fight it so I save my strength and let it happen. My jeans and underwear get pulled down to my knees. My still mostly hard cock slaps my belly before pointing almost straight to the ceiling.

Hunk #1 laughs again. He turns to Caryn who is giggling too. "You weren't kidding. Wow! If anything, your description was generous."

I've been self-conscious about the size of my penis my whole life. When you grow up with two brothers and both of them have bigger dicks than you (yes, I saw theirs and they saw mine and they never let me live it down), you begin to wonder if something is wrong with you. I still carry those emotional scars with me today. It's also why I hardly ever see my brothers. But it's not like I have a micro penis or anything. Is four and a half inches that shameful? Well, that's four and a half erect. Flaccid, it's more like two and a half. That's embarrassing in public restrooms.

Hunk #1 says, "Let's see how big they each get."

I already feel pretty big - for me - but when he gives it a quick touch, it stands taller and prouder.

Hunk #2 begins to stroke himself and soon his soft seven inches has transformed into a hard nine. He comes closer to me and I can almost feel heat radiating off it. He says, "Twinkie? Have you ever seen a real man up close before?"

My dick is near exploding now. Hunk #1 Gives my arm a squeeze where a person's bicep is meant to be and he finds nothing. He shakes his head in amusement.

"Word on the street is that your little pecker there is a failure," says Hunk #2. "Your wife is a beautiful woman and you leave her unsatisfied every night of your lives. I can be your hero. I'm gonna have to step in and do it for you. I'm here to show you what a real man can do. And you are going to watch."

My dick stays rock hard. The humiliation of my exposed genitals along with the announcement of my inadequacy has me crazed and horny.

Hunk #1 pulls a cloth tape measure out of a bag. He measures #2 and lets out a low whistle, "Nine inches. Impressive."

My estimate was right. He lines his cock up alongside of mine and the difference is comical. Caryn comes over to look too. All three of them almost fall to the floor laughing. It's like we're different species.

Hunk #2 puts a hand on my shoulder, "Hey twinkie, I'm ten years younger than you but my dick looks like your dick's daddy. You should be ashamed of yourself."

How can it be so small and feel so big?

Unhelpfully, Caryn says, "That's the hardest and biggest I've seen that little thing in ten years."

Suddenly the tape measure is being pressed and stretched all along my length from different sides and angles. The hands of two other men are on my cock and I am about to lose it. I am now leaking precum. There's more laughter. "Four and a half."

No surprise there. I've measured myself a million times - it never changes.

Caryn lies back on the other bed, "Take me big guy."

She's not talking to me. I pull against my ties, "What?"

"James, relax and enjoy the show."

Hunk #2 climbs on Caryn's bed. He roughly rips and shreds the crotch of her teddy and she gasps. He pushes the garment up her torso and his giant hands glide up her naked sides. Her breathing gets heavier. His head dives between her legs and his tongue darts deep into a place that my tongue has never visited. She screams in delight and grabs his head with her hands. He spends the next five minutes feasting on my wife, licking, nibbling and going down in every way imaginable. Caryn is in absolute ecstasy as she makes animal sounds. He kneels upright and positions himself for proper entry.

I shout, "Caryn!"

Everyone ignores me. And why shouldn't they? She isn't being attacked or violated, at least not in any way that she doesn't want to be.

He spreads her legs as wide as they'll spread and points his iron cock at her, like he's lining up to dock a ship. As he makes contact, she gasps again. He pushes in deeper and she gasps harder. He keeps pushing and she bucks up and down, arching her back. Once I think she can't possibly take anymore, he pushes his last two inches inside of her and she lets out an guttural sound that shakes the room. A sound I've never extracted from her.

All the while Hunk #1 is saying degrading things to me about how it takes a real man to properly fuck a woman. Then he moves on to pointing out all the objects in the room that are bigger than my dick. Spoiler alert - it's all of them. Apparently no other object on planet earth is smaller than my penis. He asks me if I made God mad at me. Humiliation has always been a turn-on for me but watching another man fuck my wife while my tiny exposed dick gets publicly mocked is a level I never imagined in my wildest dreams.

Hunk #2 pulls halfway out and slams back in. Caryn cries out in delight. He repeats the move over and over. He says, "You are so tight. Let a real man stretch you out."

She just nods and grunts and bites her lip. He continues to plow her relentlessly. If she can accommodate his whole nine inches, I never had a chance. I really am only half of a man. Compared to this guy, I'm not a man at all. He keeps right on ramming her, making her eyes roll back in her head.

It's Caryn who begins her orgasm first. As she begins to shake and sweat and flush and gasp, Hunk #2 let's his loose as well. It's a symphony of sounds as they cum together in erotic euphoria. At this point I realize I may have never given Caryn an orgasm ever. At least not a proper one. Not one by a real man. Knowing that I can't do that to her and this guy just did, while I was forced to watch... I feel completely emasculated. And I love it.

As they unentangle from each other, Caryn vanishes back into the bathroom. Hunk #2 remains naked and very large. And so do I. At least as large as I am physically capable of being. He gets a pair of scissors from his bag and cuts my shirt off and away from my body. Then the two of them go down by my feet and begin untying the laces of my high-tops.

I try, "Guys, I'm a little cold. I'd like to keep my shoes on."

#1 says, "If you're so cold, then why hasn't your dick deflated? Could there be another reason you don't want your shoes off?"

I attempt to kick my feet free, "We're done with the tickling part of the night. You already got me."

My pleas have fallen on deaf ears. They each pull off a shoe. My high-tops are powder blue with the classic white swoosh. They are more decorative than functional.