Blinders Removed

I created this story at the request of a Literotica member. It's about a woman who loses interest in her husband and finds pleasure cheating.

If you are sensitive about your size or have insecurities about your ability to please a woman, don't read this.

If you are a woman who fantasizes about being with another man or a husband who fantasizes about his wife being satisfied by another man, let me know if this story arouses you.

Don't ignore my warning and then call me a "husband hating lesbian cunt who deserves to be alone" or worse. For your information: I adore a small cock! I'm happily married, well satisfied, and have never cheated.

*

Kathryn looked sheepish when she returned to the kitchen. A blush heated her cheeks, and her body language seemed peculiar.

Before I asked, she blurted out, "I'm so sorry. I ah, opened the wrong door and saw your husband sleeping."

I gritted my teeth a moment. "He didn't wake, did he?"

"No, no. It's just, I'm so embarrassed. He was sleeping naked."

"There's no harm done. Maybe I'll tell Cal about it in the morning. He might get a kick out of it."

"Oh, no. Don't do that. Let's just forget about it. Can we? I shouldn't have said anything. It just surprised me. That's all."

I turned my back for a moment while I poured more tea and chuckled telling myself, "Kathryn's been married almost as long as me, and she's being so coy about it."

The conversation moved on. I didn't really consider it again until she long after she left, and I prepared for bed. Something bothered me about the way Kathryn acted. Did seeing Cal naked turned her on, and that made it awkward? I imagined accidentally seeing her husband naked and how I would react. I liked to guess it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Then, it occurred to me. If he had an erection in his sleep, her reaction made a bit more sense. I supposed I would be flustered in a situation like that.

A few days elapsed, and I sat in Carol's kitchen down the block. I only stopped in to see if Carol's kids needed any extra school supplies. I'm always getting free samples from my job. Carol insisted I sit down for tea or coffee. I cupped the hot mug in my hands and inhaled the aroma while I waited for the tea to cool enough for a sip. Carol sat across from me at her small table ignoring her own cup and asked, "Is everything OK in your marriage?"

It was a strange question to come from Carol. We weren't intimate friends in spite of sharing several acquaintances and belonging to the same tennis club. "Why do you ask?"

"Hm, well, Kathryn visited the other day and said something that stuck in my mind. I know it's none of my business, and I'm being nosey, but I just had to ask."

"Everything's fine." I replied more defensively than I intended.

"OK, OK. I was wondering though. Kathryn and I are meeting some others at a club on Thursday night. We wondered if you'd like to come with us."

"Oh, what club?" I assumed she meant a tennis club or country club.

"It's called Pecker's, and it's down on Hudson Street."

"I've never heard of it. What's there?"

"It's just a ladies night out. We'll drink more than we should and giggle like schoolgirls and act silly during the cab ride home. Some of us have been going a couple times a year just to keep our friendships lively."

I worried Carol might be hinting I was neglecting friendships. I had been unavailable lately with work and accommodating Cal's crazy schedule. "Sure, it sounds like fun. Should I meet you here on Thursday and we'll go together?"

"Come at 5:30 so we get there before the end of happy hour. We'll share a cab."

"That sounds great. I need a chance to let my hair down a bit." I smiled.

The conversation returned to mundane topics as we sipped tea, and a few minutes later, I made excuses. I needed to return some books at the library before it closed. Carol looked and acted strange when I drove away. She stood in her doorway waving until I passed out of sight. It seemed an odd gesture from a neighbor I'd known for years.

Thursday night arrived quicker than I hoped. Time seemed to fly. I could never get enough done since I started working full time again. I didn't really want to go to the club, but I felt ridiculous ditching the others so I could clean the bathtub. Hoping for an early night, I climbed into the cab with Kathryn, Carol, and Debbie, my good friend from work.

"I didn't know you knew Kathryn and Carol."

"Oh no? I went to school with Carol. We use the ladies night out as an excuse to keep in touch. We've been doing this for years.

"It's a small world," I mused aloud.

"That's what you think!" Carol laughed, and the others smiled mischievously.

I suspected I was the target of some inside joke, but It didn't concern me too much. I trusted Debbie's good intentions. It puzzled me, though.

I thought I knew what to expect from the name "Pecker's" and imagined some sort of Chippendales male dancers. I was right up to a point, but the place had a exotic vibe even though we were early and hardly any other customers were there.

"I wondered when you'd notice," Kathryn remarked while Carol and Debbie were fetching the first round of hard lemonade. "It's a gay club."

Everything clicked suddenly. The decor was flamboyant with velvet and leather. The guy at the door seemed aloof. "I have to ask. Why do you come to a gay bar?"

"Lots of women come here. We don't get pawed like we might at other places. Plus, the show is the main attraction."

I guessed what the show was going to be even though I'd never seen such a thing for gays or straights. Nevertheless, I had to ask, "What's the show like?"

"It can get a little crazy sometimes. It's best just to wait and see. I guarantee you'll be impressed by the dancers though." She winked.

"Four lemonades to start the evening off right," Carol glibly announced as she and and Debbie returned to the table. "Figured out why we're here yet?"

It was my turn to act coy. "Oh my. You girls are so naughty." I wasn't really shocked. In fact, I was still hoping for an early night. The lemonade tasted dry. I got light headed before I finished the first glass. They probably spike it with vodka to get the alcohol content higher.

We all chatted and giggled and gossiped while the place filled with a pretty large crowd, considering it was a Thursday night. It looked like about a third of the people there were women, or they were convincing drag queens. I was already drunk enough that I laughed when I considered the possibility of man in drag. The others asked, "what? what?"

"I just had a funny thought. I'm getting tipsy," I confessed, and we all laughed.

The gossip continued, and Carol amazed us all by describing a threesome she had with her future husband and an ex-boyfriend when they were still in school.

"Cal's always fantasized about a threesome."

The conversation stopped and everybody stared at me.

"What?" I shrugged. "Don't all husbands?"

"Is Cal into other men?" Kathryn inquired with false innocence.

"No, no," I laughed. "He wants some tiny Asian woman to sit and spin on his penis. It's an elaborate fantasy he's had since he was a teenager." The imagery scandalized me when Cal first described it a few months before we got married. We confessed fantasies, and I admitted to imagining being tied up and molested by a gang of outlaws. Cal's fantasy came up every now and again in the bedroom and no longer bothered me. Sometimes I still imagined the outlaws.

"Tiny spinner, huh?" Carol remarked, and everyone laughed harder than seemed appropriate.

I regretted exposing the intimacy Cal and I shared, but I rationalized: All of their husbands had some similar absurd quirk. Who were they to judge? Plus, Debbie's husband had a one night stand with an ex-girlfriend a few years ago. It nearly cost Debbie her marriage. She cried at lunches for a year while she vented her frustrations and the anguish of betrayal.

The dancers walked around the floor of the club introducing themselves to patrons. Most dressed in tiny speedo style shorts and muscle shirts. Some were bare chested. A handsome one bowed and kissed my hand when he introduced himself. Apart from his head, there didn't seem to be a hair on his body. His prominent pectoral muscles glinted in the stage lights with a sheen of oil.

"Notice anything about that guy," Carol asked when the dancer moved on to the next table.

"He must wax his whole body." I remarked slurring my words a little. Was that the second or third lemonade I sipped?

"Anything else?" Kathryn asked. The others seemed so serious all of a sudden.

"What? Did he have a tattoo or something?"

"You didn't notice his package?"

I blushed and choked on my drink. "Of course not!" I pled innocence, but I had noticed the man's ample endowment outlined clearly in the minuscule tight shorts. It seemed strange to me that he got erect while chatting up ladies. This was a gay club, but it didn't mean all the dancers were gay.

"Come on Missy, we saw you checking him out!"

Carol's determination to extract my confession irritated me, but I wanted to preserve the evening's fun if I had to be there instead of cleaning. "Alright. I admit it seemed strange that he had an erection while talking to a bunch of ladies in a gay club."

The others just stared at me.

"Oh honey," Carol sighed.

The music got louder, and the dancers mimed thrusting at each other's asses while gyrating to the beat.

"They're pretty good dancers," I remarked.

"Yeah, some of them have formal training. One guy danced professional ballet." Debbie surprised me with her knowledge.

The evening dragged on and I got slowly more pickled. There wasn't much conversation over the booming music. The girls contented themselves by ogling the dancers as they stripped off the shorts and thrust into imaginary partners. One guy walked past our table giving a display of "helicopter dick" as Carol called it.

In the cab on the way back to Carol's house, Kathryn brought up the subject again. "Did you notice anything interesting about the dancers?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure one of them got a blow job from the big guy in the corner, but I didn't want to stare."

"Oh, there was lots more than one blow job going on in there," Carol asserted. She had been getting louder as she got hammered.

"No, really," Kathryn insisted, "did you notice anything, like, about their size?"

"Oh god yes!" I blurted, and the cab driver glanced at me in his mirror. "They must all be porn stars or something."

"No, not really," Debbie interrupted. "They were mostly pretty normal in that department. Some were even small. There's a fetish for small dicks in parts of the gay community."

"What are you talking about?" They were huge. I was drunk.

"What about the guy who kissed your hand? What about his cock?"

"Geez Carol. It's not like I've been thinking about it all night. I'm happily married. What are you talking about?"

"Well," Kathryn continued, "remember how you said it was strange he had an erection?"

"Yah, I guess."

"Well, he didn't," Carol asserted as if no argument was possible.

"Of course he did. He was standing right next to me. I saw."

"No honey," Debbie seemed concerned. "He was flaccid and not big."

I looked into each of their faces wondering what this was all about. My normally mellow buzz started to turn grumpy.

"Have you ever seen the statue of David?"

"Yah, I've seen pictures. What about it?"

"Did David look well hung to you?"

"Yeah, I guess." I crossed my arms over my breasts. It became irritating with the interrogation.

"Michaelangelo was one of those gays with a fetish for small cocks. He portrayed David as a young boy. He has a small penis." Debbie asserted it with a flat tone.

"Well, he looks pretty big to me."

"That's what I wondered," Kathryn mumbled.

"Why are you guys so concerned about me noticing cocks all night. Of course I noticed. That's what we were there for, wasn't it?"

The cabbie glanced at me again. I wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but I bit my tongue.

"Is everything OK with you and Cal in the bedroom? Does he satisfy you?"

Carol proved to be such a busybody. I needed to defend Cal, so I lied just a bit. "Cal's a raging bull in bed. He fucks my brains out. Is that what you want to hear?" I blushed from my outburst. I said the "f" word. The drinks got me more blasted than I thought.

"No, honey, really. Is he good with his tongue? Does he get you off that way?"

"That's a bit personal - don't you think?" I snapped at Debbie even though her question seemed more concerned than nosy.

"Damn Missy! Your husband's hung like a nine year old. Can you even tell it's in you?"

"Mind your own damn business, Kathryn! Is this what it's all been about? You saw Cal's penis, and you've been spreading gossip everywhere."

"Is he a grower instead of a shower?" Debbie suggested.

"Oh no," Kathryn sounded adamant. He was pointing straight up like a pencil that's been ground down in the sharpener. The thing was the size of my pinky."

"How long were you staring at my husband anyway?" My anger bloomed by that point.

"Let's all drop it for tonight," Debbie negotiated. "We're almost to Carol's house. We can stop at your place first, Missy." Debbie looked into my eyes with pity.

"Whatever!" I hugged myself tightly like a toddler having a tantrum. "What a shitty night," I thought.

---

My "friends" planted the thought in my head. I looked at Cal a little differently. I was a virgin when I met him. We fooled around a lot before we married. I didn't consider myself a sheltered prude. Cal and I used to pick out porn together. Everyone knows those actors are hired for swinging elephant trunks.

Cal's work kept him so busy. We hadn't had sex for a few weeks. When passion coincided with our schedules, I couldn't help remembering Carol's remarks the whole time Cal thrust on top of me. I definitely knew he entered me.

I thought of our past routine. Lots of women can't come from vaginal penetration alone. It didn't seem like much, but his cock tickled some sensitive spots. Missionary position with the bullet vibrator compressed between our bodies almost always got me off. To mix it up, sometimes I'd lay on my stomach with my hand between my legs and masturbate while he entered from behind. I enjoyed him those times.

Something changed, and I couldn't come during sex with Cal. He humped and grunted, but it did nothing for me. We tried several times over the next few weeks. Whenever I saw his penis, I thought: "A nine year old? Really?"

My masturbation fantasies changed. The outlaws grew gigantic cocks in the new version. Sometimes the dancers from the club featured prominently. When I thought about Cal at all, I wished he made better use of his tongue. I imagined him licking a real man's load out of my body. Guilt plagued me for appraising him as less of a man, but I couldn't prevent the realization from invading my fantasies.

I'm sure I used to feel Cal's dick inside me, but I didn't anymore. Letting him hump uselessly became distasteful to me. I started to dread his randy moods. It didn't help that his once promising career declined. He came home angry every night. We canceled our annual trip to the shore because he needed to put in extra hours. Skipping the vacation was a good thing, really. I'd been noticing trouser bulges a lot. Hung young studs at the beach were not likely to make me feel any better about Cal.

I tried to convince myself the girls were just teasing me. I shouldn't compare an ordinary guy like Cal to porn stars. Curiosity and a compulsion to reassure myself lead me to explore on-line adult chat. Lots of ordinary guys happily displayed their endowments on camera for an interested woman. I saw men of all shapes and sizes, but none were as puny as Cal. One thing lead to another, and a couple of times, I turned on my cam, and, ah, participated.

"Cal dear," I said one night, "I want to give you a show. I'll dance and strip, and I want you to jerk-off for me." He agreed readily, and it started out pretty well, but the longer he squeezed his pinky dick between two fingers, the less aroused I got. I enjoyed a rush masturbating on cam with an eager man. Performing for Cal turned into yet another disappointment.

Studying his full erection inspired an experiment. I dashed to a closet and dug in my seldom used sewing kit for a tape measure. Cal's penis measured three inches long. It didn't help that he'd been getting fat. I had to push the tape into his blubber. He achieved a respectable three inches around, but by the time I tried to determine that, he subsided from his peak arousal and became self-conscious.

Sex with Cal dwindled to nothing, and months went by. I masturbated. It was usually solitary, but sometimes I surrendered to my desire on cam. Those young men were so virile and hung. I purchased a seven inch dildo and relished riding it. Cal masturbated, too. I caught him a few times. When we were newlyweds, I would have gotten so turned-on to catch him that I would have jumped him before he finished. It actually turned my stomach to see him do it once the blinders lifted from my eyes.

So, that brings the story to the present. Ten minutes ago, I squatted on a tree stump that nearly split me in two. It's proud owner called me a dirty bitch and spoiled the mood, but the sensation of stretching, gripping, clenching, grinding down drove me to a mind numbing orgasm anyway.

Cal's out of town interviewing for a new job at half his former salary. Mark, the dude swinging wood here with me now, is hard again while I suck on the head of his dick. I can't fit any more in my mouth. Carol says I'm officially a size queen. Debbie warns me not to get caught. Kathryn wants a threesome with her husband and Mark. I can't say I really care if Cal finds out. My fantasies these days include making him watch while a real man satisfies his wife.

"I want you to come inside me this time," I whisper around Mark's shaft.

I imagine Cal sitting naked and downcast at the foot of the bed when Mark mounts me from behind. My clit rubs against the shaft as he slowly pumps. The sensation sends shivers up my spine. I vividly picture Cal's pinky dick standing at full attention. The whole bed rocks now. I can barely form a coherent thought. I'm about to come again. I see Cal spurt his tiny dribble onto the floor as Mark's load surges inside me. I'm squeezing Mark so tight it hurts, and that's all I can conceive or consider for a while.