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I had been entertaining fantasies about having a small dick for quite some time now. But then, they weren't exactly fantasies. It was a reality. But I had come to lean into that fact of myself, opposed to shy away from it. It was one of the earlier things I had to grapple with when I first downloaded Howlr. I loved having countless men at my fingertips. I'd been starved of that my whole life. And once the gates of sexuality were opened for me, I sprinted through them at full speed. But exceptionally quickly I learned that everything I'd suspected from the porn I'd watched all while growing up, along with my own intuition, was true. My package was small. And it was confirmed with hookup after hookup. There wasn't a single guy who was shorter, or more slim, than me.

I knew it was holding me back from really enjoying my time with these casual flings. For a while I tried to position myself only so they could get at my rear, so that they might not notice my small size. But that was stopping me from really getting into the motions, the movements, and the sensations of having a guy get off in my ass. It was unsustainable. Sex just couldn't be pleasurable with an insecurity like that hanging over my head. So, I had to reassess. It didn't take me long to reframe how I thought about my size. Yes, I was smaller than the average guy. I was smaller than those who were below average. Unless I searched specifically for micro penises, I felt like maybe the smallest guy around - although of course I was likely somewhat exaggerating the issue.

It's just that, for a long time I had been insecure about myself. And rightfully so. It isn't exactly a manly thing, to have a small dick. I was worried about what that meant. Maybe I'd have a hard time finding a mate. Maybe it meant that I wasn't a "real man", whatever that even means. But it was that thought which helped me to reframe my physicality in my head. Was I really concerned about being a "real man"? That would be a silly concern to have. Because I was, of course, not a "real man" at all. Which isn't a bad thing at all, mind. It's just a truth.

I didn't fit that definition at all. Aside from having a penis there wasn't much else to qualify me as a typical male. First of all, I loved being penetrated. That's atypical for sure. And I had always liked tight fitting clothes. But once I moved out of my parents' house, the clothes got tighter and tighter, and I relished in it. I shopped nearly exclusively in the girl's section. The clothes just stuck better to my form, which was already a bit more curvy than any of my peers. And I would much rather have those curves accentuated with a fitted shirt, opposed to hidden by a plain cylinder of fabric. And having a small package helped girl pants fit all the better. There was just something about that which I liked. They showed off my form better than boy pants, for sure. And I liked the feel of the fabric up tight against my fur.

Those tight, "girl" clothes had come to help me feel really secure in myself, actually. Plus, I just liked the patterning. Girls had way more cute options than guys ever did. The point to all this is, I had already been blatantly not a guy for quite some time. So holding on to an insecurity about a small dick making me less of a man was just silly. If I had really wanted to be a "man", then a small dick was the least of my concerns.

So, clearly I wasn't a "man". But then, I wasn't a girl, either. Nor was I especially androgynous. Sure, with a few accents on my fur it might be possible for me to pass. But I liked to think I still very much looked like a boy, and I wouldn't want that to go away. I didn't aspire to be a girl or anything like that. And for having a wardrobe I bought from the girls section I actually didn't like to crossdress all that much. I had one skirt in my apartment which I wore on very scant, sexy occasions. And I had a dress I bought at a thrift store. But I'd just as soon have been naked than wearing a certain type of clothing in order to get off. Fantasies of being a girl just didn't completely appeal to me. Femboy was much more my style, but even that wasn't a badge I particularly sought to wear. Although, in retrospect, I was about as femboy as it could get. But most importantly, I was just me. Silver. And I liked to dress in a certain way, and lord known I enjoyed spending my time in the company of strange men. And part of being Silver included having a small package.

But then, I was a small sort of guy in the first place. As surely as the penises I interacted with were all bigger than I was - so, too, were the guys themselves. Most people were taller than me, and it was rare someone was more thin. I was just slight. I figured that, on my form, having any sort of a large cock would actually look a little off. It would throw off my whole aesthetic. Furthermore, I had absolutely zero desire to fuck anybody by penetrating them. I'd fuck them with my eyes when we first met, to be sure. Then I'd fuck them with my ass. Or have them fuck me, which was usually the case. But my cock just, never really factored into it. So what did its size even matter in the first place?

And once I let go of the idea that I needed to be ashamed of being a small size, I was able to look at myself as I was. And without holding myself to stupid societal expectations, I actually really liked what I saw. It was almost a badge of strange pride. Just like I enjoyed sex with large cocks, I started to enjoy the knowledge that the boy they were fucking had a small one. That led to the inner fantasies of being dominated, or even humiliated. It was just another way to be submissive. I was smaller in form, more slight of dick - I was an all around, Grade-A bottom. It was all just something I'd been coming to understand about myself as I hooked up with stranger after stranger through the app. So then I was able to be more comfortable, and more confident, with the men I was with.

Once I let go of my insecurities, the rest of me was able to let go as well. I wasn't ashamed about getting naked in some dude's house, I relished in it. I liked to strut around and pose, and spread my legs and set myself on display. I like to think that made me even more fuckable than I was before, because the sex really did seem to pick up from that point on. Then that helped me to be even more confident, which kept the sexual spiral moving up and up.

But in all that time I had never specifically opened up about how deep that fantasy of mine had gone. In my head it was all part of being submissive. And when I was being penetrated, my head always went into a deep, submissive space. Even if the guy I was having sex with was a little timid or gun-shy (which happened surprisingly often, given the casual nature of Howlr), or if they weren't an especially vigorous lover - in my head, they were all brilliant. I turned each of them into some sort of a dominant, possessive top. In my mind they universally liked being better than me, bigger than me. They loved to take possession of me, and all of my features. Somewhere along the line that came to include my small cock, and thoughts of having it pointed out to me started to really get me off. It was just another level of bottom-hood. It didn't get much more horny than being a small dicked femboy, about to be fucked by a "real man".

And I had found one of those only a couple of weeks ago. A "real man", that is. His name was Thrad. We had hooked up twice now, and tonight was going to be the third. That put me in incredible anticipation, and excitement. He had the largest cock I'd taken by far. He was bigger than the biggest of my dildos, and I'd always remember the look on his face when he realized I was about to take the whole thing. I felt like such a slut that night, and the sex we had had had been the most mind blowing to date. That is, until the second time we hooked up, a week later.

Somehow he had surpassed the bar which was set with our prior encounter, and he had already set it impossibly high. I swore I could feel the shadow of his cock inside me all through the week. That basically meant I was perpetually horny all through the week - just because the memory of our second night was so fresh with me. Granted, I was already horny pretty often, which maybe wasn't unique to me. But since our first night together my sex drive had been working overtime. Then it really kicked into high gear the second time we had sex. I could only imagine what the fallout of session three was going to be.

But still, for all the sex we had, Thrad was also the most gentlemanly of any of the men I'd met to date. Not only did he fuck my brains out for hours on end, but he also treated me like I was a valued, respected person. Everyone else always just saw me as an empty slut. And sure, that was sort of the whole point of Howlr. And that was the general level of emotional intimacy I had come to expect from these hookups, or from sex in general. I had a small body, and I was being fucked by a bigger body. End of story.

But Thrad was different. He saw me as much more than just a twinkish cock sleeve. Although yes, I was twinkish. And yes, I liked to think I made a phenomenal cock sleeve (and Thrad seemed to think so as well). But he always checked in with me during sex. It was stuff like "How are we doing?", "Do we need more lube?", or "Is this okay?". On our second night he asked me my favorite one so far, which was "You're squealing an awful lot. Is that pleasure or pain?" When he asked that one I barked at him to keep fucking me. Which he most assuredly did.

And since he was always so concerned about how I was feeling, I felt like I could open up to him. He was unique that way, because I couldn't see myself doing that with any of my other hookups. If I brought something like a humiliation kink to them, I'd probably be laughed at. Else they'd get legitimately degrading about it. It was strange that that would be a turnoff for me, since degradation was sort of the whole point. But there was a difference between doing it as a mutually understood kink, opposed to just doing it to be dominant, or mean. I didn't think any of the randoms from Howlr would be on the same page as me concerning something like that. But I thought for sure that Thrad would be able to get on board.

The most curious thing about it, though, was that I wasn't at all afraid about telling him. Typically I would guard something like a kink or fetish pretty close to my chest. And sure, I had loads of sex with strangers. But a boy still has to keep a few secrets to himself. But with Thrad I wanted to tell him about it. I couldn't say much more on the subject than that. It felt right to share it with him, even though I couldn't explain it and didn't really even know why. So I vowed that I would. And the knowledge of the confession that I was going to make had made me nearly delirious with lust. But we weren't scheduled until the evening, and it was still the afternoon, and the fantasies in my head just wouldn't leave me alone. I was horny enough it was almost a sort of prison. I couldn't concentrate enough to really do much of anything. I just, wanted to be with Thrad. We were two for two on phenomenal, mind blowing nights filled with sex. I wanted to see if we could go three for three, and I was positive that we would.

During the wait, all sorts of fantasies just flooded my head. When they came on me like that I couldn't do much to resist them, and it wasn't like I typically had anything else going on. So I laid on my bed with my go-to dildo, and sort of went to town. I was careful not to cum, as I wanted to stay good and on edge for Thrad's sake. But I lost myself as I motioned around on my dildo. I was thinking about Thrad, but also myself, and dominance and humiliation and all things sex. When I came to I had to scramble to catch the bus I had planned on taking. And because of that scramble, when I caught my reflection in the bus window, I looked every bit the part of a disheveled twink who had just had sex. Because I basically was.

It wasn't exactly how I had intended to show up to Thrad's place. But it would certainly telegraph my intentions for the night perfectly well. And I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I showed up already looking a little sloppy. It's not like I would be staying pristine for long anyway. The clothes would probably come off minutes into the night, and my fur would get ruffed up in a matter of moments. So what if I had a little pre-ruff going on? My only real concern was still feeling the slickness of the lube I hadn't had time to fully wipe away from my ass. I always used oil based lube. It lasted longer, and to me it felt better. But with most of them you had to wash it off with purpose, just like you would have to wash an oily dish. And I always got the cheap stuff. So you had to reapply it more frequently, and it was harder to clean up from as well.

I wasn't worried about staining my pants with lube or anything, I wasn't that wet. But I could definitely tell that I was slick down there. My cheeks were rubbing together in a way you can only notice when they're anything except for dry and standard. It made me a little self-conscious with every movement the bus made, and every movement I made in my seat. I was extremely aware of what I'd just been doing to myself in my room. And I was aware of what my intentions were for the night. Then I thought about the other people on the bus. They had no idea that I was on the way to see some stranger I'd met from Howlr, for our third, glamorous night of rampant gay sex. And that all got me horny again, but my cock couldn't grow very much in my tight pants, and that got me horny as well. I was effectively right back where I started, only now I didn't have a bedroom and a dildo to take care of it.

But, in just a few moments, I would have something much greater than that. I could hardly wait. Even when I stepped off the bus and made the short walk to his house, I couldn't keep my tail from making its wild, anticipating shake. Anyone who knew anything about felines would look on and absolutely know that I was horny and ready to fuck. And they'd look at me, and automatically assume I was gay (because hell, who wouldn't?). And they would see me going to Thrad's door, and they would have to know. But Thrad emphasized that he didn't care, so I didn't care either. Still, I did feel particularly on display this time around. My cock was forming a noticeable bulge, and I was still acutely aware of my lubed up rear. I felt disheveled, and messy, and all the more sexy for it. And I knew that Thrad would either not care, or maybe he'd even find it sexy as well.

But, in any case, I was finally there. And I knocked on the door, and he answered it promptly, and I took him in for the third time in my life. He was, of course, as tall and broad as ever. But as he greeted me at the threshold his scent wafted towards me. I had somehow misplaced his scent since last we'd fucked. It was so distinct and strong, like a one-man gym in the mountains. In short, he smelled fantastic to me. I guess I must not have had the bandwidth to remember every detail about our encounters. Which was to say, mainly I remembered his dick. But how could I possibly forget how damned good he smelled?

"Hello Silver." Thrad said.

"Hi Thrad." "Won't you come in?" "Love to."

It was a silly game of a greeting, because we both knew exactly what we'd be up to the moment the door closed behind us. And then it did close, and all pretenses went out the window. It isn't fair to say that Thrad threw me against the wall, but it was something along that vein. And he held me there, and kissed me with intent, and started to grope me. When he found my cock already hard he chuckled against my lips then started to rub his fingers across the fabric, pressing along my shaft.

It was everything I had wanted and more. Before I crossed into his home I had been horny and excited. But now I was nothing but pants and moans. I was gyrating my hips against his hand as well as I could, and I was faux struggling against his weight which kept me against the wall. This was very much in line with how our prior two meetings had gone. And over those meetings he had gone to great, extensive lengths to find out where my limits were, what I was comfortable with, and how rough I liked to go. So we were well within comfort range. Even if we had gone from zero to sixty in an instant. Or perhaps especially so.

But it ended all too soon, as it had our meeting prior, and the one before that. He was a master at teasing, which I both loved and hated. He knew how to get a guy going, that much was certain. So he broke off our embrace with one more purposeful grope at my crotch. I couldn't help but notice how easily my package fit into his hand. Especially considering the headspace I had been in all day, or even most of the week leading up to it. Then he led me upstairs and motioned me to my new favorite place. The couch in his front room. I had taken my first truly massive cock on that couch. We had fucked for hours all over it, in every position imaginable. The first time I came on it I was a little embarrassed, but he assured me it was no big deal. That was good, because I ended up cumming on it quite a few times after that.

"Want a drink?" He asked. "Yes, please!" I said. My tail thwapped against the couch excitedly. He didn't ask what I wanted because he knew well by this point. The more fruity the better.

While he was in the kitchen I got a little nervous in spite of myself. I was still hard, and of course I was exceptionally horny. But I remembered my resolve to invite him into my growing humiliation kink, or whatever it is that you'd call it. Or maybe I was just a little excited to tell someone that I'd come to be proud of my small cock. Not just comparatively small, but objectively so. And to compare my size to Thrad would be ludicrous. His cock probably counted for eight of mine at least, and I felt like the entirety of my package could fit in his ball sack alone. Maybe that's what helped to drive me to this point. Next to Thrad I wasn't just small, I was insignificant. And for some reason I was getting really, really off on that.

I squirmed a little in my seat when he handed me the drink. I'd certainly been growing in confidence over the past year or so. I'd gotten a bit more confident with every hookup I had. But there was always room to grow, and it was fine to be nervous sometimes. And right now I was nervous, but also excited, and in general just, happy. I relished in sex, and the company of men. But Thrad's company in particular was always just a pleasure to me. I hoped that we'd be able to make a routine out of our hookups, but for now I tried to be satisfied just to be grateful for each individual one that I got.

As testament to how safe I felt around him (ergo, why I felt safe enough to bring my kinky secret to him), I tasted the drink without reservations of anything he might have put in it. I always took care when I drank around strangers. I only rarely drank on hookups, and when I did I was always there either to mix my own drink, or to see it mixed. I had heard one too many horror stories, and I knew there was a certain level of danger in my behavior over the past year or so. There were an awful lot of strangers on my roster by now. Far too many to count. And there would be countless more to come. And I knew that each encounter was a new roll of the die. How trustworthy would the next one be? My answer was always that they weren't trustworthy enough. To me, safety was key. So I always used a condom whoever I was with, even though I desperately wanted another man's cum inside of me. And I certainly never let my guard down if I wasn't completely confident that it was safe. All it would take was one bad seed of a man to take advantage of me, and a casual encounter could easily turn to rape. I was terrified of that prospect so I honestly took every precaution I could.

In short, I trusted my intuition to a tee. I was always good at getting reads on people, and I'd left a good many encounters early because I got bad vibes. At the first hint of such a vibe I'd be on guard. And I listened to myself intently, and after one bad vibe there was almost always a second one - and I was out. If I was naked, the clothes went back on, and I left in haste. I never looked back, and not once did I ever regret it.

But with Thrad I was taking sort of an opposite approach. I had never exactly gotten good vibes from a hookup. I'd picked up on nervous vibes, excited vibes, and of course a lot of horny ones. Most guys genuinely just wanted to get off. Men were simple creatures. But I sensed something completely different with Thrad. The only times I ever picked up on something negative coming from him he instantly followed up with a check-in. At this point I knew and respected his check-ins well. They were frequent, and I was getting to the point where I could anticipate them well. All he wanted (aside from sex, of course) was to make sure I was still on board. We had a well respected rule between us, which was two taps and out. When he first fucked me with his massive cock, it was the biggest thing I'd ever taken, by far. And with two simple taps he was instantly out, and checking in, to make sure I was okay and still having a good time.

In short, I had full confidence that Thrad would never do anything to hurt me. And that might have been a foolhardy choice. Again, all it takes is one bad seed to ruin something good. And being in such a vulnerable position as sex at a stranger's house, if an encounter turned bad - or worse, really bad - it could be life ruining. But I'd been simmering on a new theory the past few weeks. If an encounter could turn bad, as I knew well that it could, then maybe an encounter could turn good as well. And what might a life look like if an encounter turned really good?

It was definitely worth considering. And I was willing to take steps to probe such a situation out. And it was all rather a lot to consider over the course of a few sips of a drink.

"You might want to slow down, Silver." Thrad chided. He didn't typically take a dad sort of tone with me, because he wasn't my father, although species aside he certainly could have been. But his warning was as much for his benefit as it was for mine. He was ever the gentleman, and he wouldn't dream of taking advantage of a drunk kid. That did make me slow down, because I'd never been properly drunk before, and I wasn't about to spoil tonight by making some dumb, brash decision.

"Sorry." I said. My ears wilted a bit to the sides. "Just got a little excited is all." "That's fine." Thrad said with a light chuckle. "It's nice to see you again." "Thanks for having me." "Thank you for coming."

My tail thwapped happily against the couch, and I nearly took another sip of my drink before setting it down on second thought. I certainly didn't want to dive in too far, too fast. It was important to keep at least some manner of a level head. Lord knows that was hard enough for me to do already, because when I got really horny things started to get a little fuzzy, in a way. Maybe it was like when somebody didn't know how to control their anger, and it sort of flowed through them and they acted out in ways which aren't okay. I felt similar with my sex drive, and it was hard not to make dumb decisions when I got really going. There was no way I could count the number of times I'd nearly taken off a guy's condom because I wanted to feel his cum in me so badly. And one thing was for certain. Alcohol would only make those matters worse.

So instead I contented myself with a few deep, steeling breaths, to return myself more to center. Yes, I was indescribably excited. But I didn't have to let that control me or my actions. At least, not yet I didn't. In the deep throes of sex matters were a little different.

Then we sat quiet for a moment, which I actually really enjoyed. Silence between us was never uncomfortable. We seemed to share a space as equals, which was curious because there was such a power divide between us. The sexual divide was an obvious one, what with his massive member and all. But in sheer physicality the man could overpower me with a single finger. And I had no idea how old he was, but he was a full adult at least. Not that he was a greymuzzle, not by any stretch of the imagination. But he was the sort of guy who, in another life, might have had a loving wife in a large home, with a roster of children, maybe all of whom were already off to college. Or out of the house, at least. But instead, he was here. Single, but still with a reasonably nice house I'd have to say - and most certainly gay. And most importantly, he had chosen for three nights now to spend a corner of his free time with me.

That meant a lot to me, and I was grateful for it. And that was one of those good vibes I picked up from him, although for a while it was challenging to place. But I got the strong impression that he was grateful that I chose to spend time with him as well. That was a flip-flop sort of thing for me to accept. I had gotten so used to just being another twink that these strangers from Howlr were fucking. I was used to being used, and I thrived on that. If I was being used by someone like an actual boyfriend, that would probably be different. I liked to think I had enough self respect to avoid a situation like that. But my hookups on Howlr typically included mutually understanding parties. They were there to fuck. I was there to be fucked. They liked that dynamic, and I loved it. So there weren't any problems to be had.

That's what made my intuition about Thrad so curious. It wasn't a problem that he seemed to legitimately care about me. It was just new, was all. So I wanted to approach things with him carefully, just so I didn't make a misstep in uncharted territory. It felt weird to be so suspicious about what honestly seemed like just a good thing between us. Maybe I felt like things might be too good to be true, so I didn't want to jump into a blind belief. But then, what was I even on about? Belief in what? The goodness I picked up on, coming from some broad, big dicked guy I had picked from Howlr's hat?

But then I smiled. I did trust him. And I had been looking forward to tonight for a whole week. And I knew that he'd been looking forward to it as well. And, at least in that moment, that was enough.

"Thanks for the drink." I said finally, by means of beginning a conversation. But mainly I used it as a way to spread my legs out and slouch in just such a way as to put myself more on display. It would have been a stilted, awkward movement to just pull out from thin air. But pairing it with words tied the moment together. As though it helped us to start sharing the moment together, whereas moments before we'd been existing in it independently.

"Any time." Thrad said. Then he got bold with his eyes, the same way I'd gotten bold in my positioning. He looked me up and down without reservation. His eyes scanned me all over, but they seemed to also linger at each new part of me they found. I saw that he was appreciating the distinct outline my shirt gave my chest. And he noticed my thin arms which were draped ostentatiously about me. It was painfully obvious that I was posing for his benefit, which had of course been my intention. Just like his intention was to make it perfectly clear that he was fucking me with his eyes. And I knew we weren't far at all from actual fucking. It was just a matter of time.

He scanned down my torso, then seemed to actually skip over my crotch and instead took in my thighs. Then he examined the features of my face and we made eye contact. His eyes were the other detail I had remembered with crystal clarity, right alongside how his massive dick felt inside me. From an outsider's perspective they might have looked small, given that the rest of his face had such strong features. His muzzle was large, of course, as all bovines are. But its curves were somehow both sharp and gentle. Thrad's fur was, for the most part, a pretty consistent tone between black and maybe a little blue. But if you got a real close look at his muzzle (as I had done many times by now), there were some even darker highlights which led into his eyes. And his eyes themselves looked dark from afar. But they had a sort of wooden shine up close, which I found fascinating. Maybe I even found it magic. But that was far too romantic a way to put things.

And right now, those eyes were without question fucking mine. I felt his intensity and his desire, and there was no doubt he could feel mine. I squirmed a little under his gaze, but I turned it into a purposeful motion to draw his attention to my crotch. I got the impression that he had skipped over it earlier in order to save the best for last. His look lingered there. I swore I could feel his hunger on me. So I tested him by motioning my hips ever so slightly, and I felt that hunger grow. He wanted to fuck, alright. And I wanted that too.

The clothes had stayed on for long enough. I reached for my jeans, and Thrad looked at me with a question. He wanted to know if he could undress me. I just smiled and kept what I was doing. I undid them but didn't pull them down, and reached into my briefs to pull out my cock and balls. I had small hands, so I fit into my own palm reasonably comfortably. This was opposed to even just one of Thrad's balls, which I'm sure weren't that big, but it sure felt like they were. Then I was on display and Thrad's desire spiked even more. But it wasn't time for sex yet, I wanted to tease him just a little more.

But then, I was also teasing myself. I traced along my sack for a time. It was tight and small, and felt like I was highlighting that to my bull. Then I ran my fingers softly against my shaft. I was fully erect, but I knew that didn't amount to much. More than that, I started to relish in it. I was set completely on display for the man who desired me. His eyes were locked on my package, and my package was small, and I knew it, and he knew it. He just hadn't spoken of it, because Thrad would never say something like that. In truth, maybe he wasn't even thinking it. But my fantasy had started to kick in, and I projected that fantasy onto him.

My head started to swim in the things I dreamed he thought. Such a cute cock. So little and small. No good for fucking, is it? It suits a little girl like you. Only made for being fucked. You need a real man's cock, don't you? A tiny slut, made to pleasure a real man, just like you'll never be

I'd been thrusting against the air as I lightly teased myself. Then I became aware of Thrad's hand on my thigh. I looked at him and his expression had another question. He wanted to know if he could touch me. I nodded, and only then noticed that I'd started panting. I set his hand on my junk, then set back to just focus on the sensation of his hand on me. And I was focused on the fantasy in my head, and the thoughts I was wanting him to be thinking.

"You have a very nice cock." Thrad said. It took me a moment to register that it was actually him who said it, opposed to the Thrad I'd been fantasizing about. "Oh. Uh, thanks." "No, I mean it." He said, standing his ground. Maybe he took my uncertain response as me not believing him. When really I was just enough in my head that my response didn't come out as immediately as it usually would. "No, I know." I said. Then I thrusted my hips up against his hand as though to emphasize that I was definitely, certainly okay with how things were going.

But then I got one of those hard to place vibes off of him. It wasn't bad, though. Maybe he was worried? Like there was something he wanted to say, but didn't know how to say it.

"What is it?" I asked. "What?" "That thing you're trying not to say."

Thrad got sheepish at that, because I'd called him out. And I smiled, because I had guessed right. I was getting to know him better. At least, well enough to know when something was on his mind.

"It's nothing." He said. "Come on. What is it?" "Really, I-"

Then I made myself known by gyrating my hips away and repositioning myself. I took my dick away from him, which meant games were over. If only for a moment.

"Tell me what's going on." I said. "Please?" "I don't-" "Is it my size?" I asked.

I was probing him, and if I'd guessed wrong then so be it. And if I did turn out to be wrong, then all I'd done was betray that my dick size was on my mind. But if I was right, and that was what he was thinking about, the implications were grand. It would signal that I really was getting to know him better, and I liked the idea of getting closer to this stranger from Howlr. Maybe we could even drop the stranger status someday, which I'd like to do. But more than that, if I had been thinking about my size, and he had been thinking about my size - then we really were on the same page after all.

I had to wait a long time for his response. I didn't push it out of him. Instead I just waited patiently. Whatever it was he was trying not to say, I knew it was only a matter of time.

"... yeah." He finally said. He looked uncertain, so I just looked at him kindly, warmly. I let him know that whatever it was, it was okay, and safe. That we were good. But on the inside I was championing myself. I had guessed right twice now, which felt good. Nowhere near as good as his hand on my exposed crotch, granted. But it felt good all the same. I had to resist asking him what about my size it was he was thinking. I was pretty sure that I knew. And I didn't want to make him say it, because he was clearly uncomfortable enough as is. I wanted to help him out. So I decided to guess again.

"Are you thinking that I'm small?" I asked. I said it a little slowly, and with a tone which said that if he was thinking that, that everything would be perfectly okay. Then I waited with baited breath. Of all the moments we shared which had felt too good to be true, this was chief among them. I wanted him to be thinking what I was thinking. Then I could assure him that it was, in fact, perfectly fine. More than that, it was great. It would pave an easy path to telling him about my kink, or if that was too strong a word then at least my confidence. I wanted to talk about my dick size, because I hadn't been able to have that conversation with anybody else, and-

"... a bit." "YES!" I shot up in my seat, perfectly erect both in body and dick. "I knew it! Three in a row!" "What?" "Uh, nevermind. It's nothing. But I am small! I'm so glad you noticed! But, of course you noticed. But then-" "Silver?" "I like being small." I said. I wanted to keep going, but I stopped the words from spilling out. I wanted to maintain an even dialog about my dick size. Although what I really wanted was to let out all of that excited energy I had build up, over finally being able to open up to someone about all this. "... really?" Thrad asked. His head was tilted and his tone was still trepidatious. "Really. I think it fits my frame nicely, and I like having a cute cock." "I don't know if I'd call it 'cute'." "What would you call it?" I asked him, almost as a challenge. "... alright, it's a little cute." He said. It sounded almost like he was appeasing me more than stating a personal truth. I could tell he was testing the water. He was gauging exactly how I felt about my size, so that he didn't say anything which might offend me.

But he couldn't possibly offend me, because I was just excited to talk about it. I didn't even linger on the kinky aspects of shaming that I'd been developing, although I did tell him those things. But mainly we just, talked. I told him how I'd come to accept it as part of me, and how that developed into a sort of pride. I acknowledged that was strange, because someone was more likely to be ashamed about having a small dick, and he said he understood. Then he shared his own insecurities with me. Turns out he had a similar issue, but he always felt like he was too big. It was rare for anyone to be able to take it all, and people tended to balk when they saw how big he was. I told him that was stupid, but understandable, and we sort of laughed at that.

But it didn't end there. I had told him about how I grew confidence in my small size, and from there I talked about my growth in confidence overall. By now he must have known that I slept around a lot, but I opened up to just how much casual sex I had. I shared with him my growth in sexual exploration, and why sex was so important to me. He was attentive through it all, and then he shared some of his own sexual experiences. Then it was my turn to be attentive, because he'd been having sex for longer than I was alive, and I wanted to know about all of it.

Our first two flings had been really casual. Aside from him being really sweet with me, and aside from his massive cock, those two nights really weren't all that much different from a regular Howlr hookup. This was the most we'd talked about anything personal at all, and once we started we couldn't seem to particularly stop. It might have been me projecting again, but I sensed for sure that he was as into our conversation as I was. And as we continued to talk I felt like he was now definitely something other than a stranger. I started to regard him more as a friend, and I think he was starting to feel the same.

We did end up having sex that night, of course. It just took a while to get to that point because we spent most of the night talking. And, just like I'd expected, the sex did blow my mind. It followed in theme with the evenings prior. Our second time had been better than the first. And our third time having sex was better still. It might even have been better than those other nights combined, because now our sex had an element of closeness to it. This time he was more than just a massive cock to me. He was a full, complete person. Even a friend. One who just so happened to have a dick which I definitely had to warm up to taking inside of me. But when I did get it all in it felt oh so good.

I ended up staying much later than either of us planned. We hadn't had nearly enough sex by the time the last bus was running, so he offered to drive me home. But even that didn't feel weird at all. With any other hookup I'd have rather walked home, even if it was miles and miles away, just because I wasn't comfortable taking a ride with a stranger. But now it was more like a friend was dropping me off at home. Because that's what it was.

I could, of course, still feel the fresh imprint of his dick in my ass. Being stuffed so full with him understandably left a tremendous emptiness when our sex was done. But this time it felt like a comfortable emptiness, instead of a horny one. I caught myself recalling, during the remainder of the night and throughout the following week, not just the sex we had had, but all of it. My recollections might even have lingered more on the conversations we had had, opposed to just remembering the sex.

And through it all I was especially looking forward to our next night together. We were going to have one, of course. We both made sure that was understood before he agreed to drop me off. I started to anticipate that night even more than I had expected to. Because now I had more than just sex to look forward to. Now it was sex with a friend, even a good one. And sex was all the better for it.