Jack's Little Lesson in Utility

"You are so naughty," I told it. "Are you excited that you may outlive me? Hanging out in front of Heart instead of me." It arched a little higher. "Fucking treasonous dick," I growled accusingly. "You've no loyalty."

My wife was leaving the neighborhood as I arrived, so I managed to sneak past the bedroom where my wife's niece slept and take a shower without getting caught. After I finished, I edged until my balls ached and exploded at last, imagining Leila's face sprayed with my jism. At last I slept, belly drenched in the spoils of my lust.

When I awoke, the first thing I did was search for Heart's card, but it was not in my wallet, and after I also could not find the contract I remembered signing or even the receipt for my pre-pay, I wondered whether I had imagined some of the experience. I called up the clinic and learned I had been scheduled to three sessions of banding. Feeling daring I asked for my doctor, and Beatriz answered. I explained my theory about how I had imagined everything.

"I'll add a note in your file," she said.

"I want you to know I really liked when you called it a weenie."

"Also noted. Have a wonderful day, Mr. Hopper."

All night long Heart's missing card drove me insane. I worried how, when discovered, its words might incriminate me, and that potential ate upon my peace, haunting me, because I will forever remember the truth of my hesitation, that space between my imaginary world and the real world where I portray my needy role. It's a lot of space, a lot of explanation required.

This morning I learned what happened. Maria, my sister-in-law, had not been sleeping. She watched me masturbate, listening to my constant dirty-talk as I chided my "little fellow," "weenie," "tiny dickie," and, ahem, "Tinky Winky," all the while insulting my size, my stamina, and so forth. She took pictures of me putting my little fellow behind my legs, fingerfucking my own butt, pretending I was Leila. I honestly have no idea what I did or said leading up to that orgasm, but once I finished and fell into the void, Maria found the contract and office paperwork crumpled in my pocket and Heart's card in my wallet. She gave them to my wife.

"I'm really sorry about this," I said when they confronted me. I had just finished swallowing a load of cum that had built up again. "It was all an accident."

Maria pointed at my dwindling erection.

"I am surprised it is so small," she confided. "His hands are quite large. I always thought..."

"For what it's worth, I've never complained," my wife said, which was not entirely true. Without word, she returned the card to me. I hung my head abashed, and it's even worse than before, because now I judge my inadequacy beside Heart's real need, and it pales, meaning I'm even more pathetic.

"I'm sorry," I said, almost begging.

"Are you apologizing for being an organ donor?"

I realized she was giving me an escape valve.

"I didn't want you to be angry."

"You know it's only your secrets that anger me. Did you do something wrong, Jack?"

I nodded. "I've been very bad," I said.

"Well, go wait for your punishment in the bedroom. I'll be a while though. I need to make some arrangements."

I went back to the room and measured myself--somehow it's only 12 cm long now--and coddled my little treasure of blood and lust. I thought of Heart and buried my little guy under its foreskin, letting the tip of my imaginary clit poke out, pink and wet. I thought how Heart measured differently this small wonder hanging between my legs, how they gave it more value than I ever had.

Despite everything, I'm pretty lucky I guess.

-- The End --