Cassandra’s Review

Look at you, Shakobe, you pathetic, married little worm. I’m staring at these pictures you sent me of your so-called “penis,” and I actually laughed out loud. Not a giggle — a full, cruel, belly-deep laugh that made my tits bounce. Because this isn’t a cock. This is a joke. This is a micropenis so small it barely qualifies as male anatomy. I’ve seen clits bigger than this. I’ve seen baby carrots with more girth. I’ve seen thimbles with more length when they’re hard.

In the first close-up, Shakobe, it’s just a sad little pink nub poking out from a sea of fat, hairy pubic mound. The head is swollen like a tiny mushroom cap, shiny and useless, barely clearing the foreskin that’s trying to swallow it whole. There’s no shaft. There’s no vein. There’s nothing to stroke, nothing to suck, nothing to fuck. It’s literally shorter than my pinky fingernail when it’s “erect.” You call this 1.2 inches on a good day, Shakobe? I call it a birth defect that somehow tricked a woman into marrying you.

How the fuck did you even manage that, Shakobe? I’m genuinely baffled. Did you hide it in your pants until after the wedding? Did you promise her “size doesn’t matter” while crossing your fingers behind your back? Because size absolutely fucking matters, and yours is a national embarrassment. Your wife deserves a medal for pretending this sad little button even exists. She probably has to squint to find it in the dark.

Second photo — pulled back in those ridiculous leopard-print pants — it looks like a shriveled acorn sitting on top of a walnut, Shakobe. The “shaft” is so short the head is basically flush with your lower belly. Your balls are bigger than the whole dick. That’s not hyperbole. I’ve measured my own clit when I’m horny and it’s longer than this when it’s soft. Yours is soft even when it’s “hard.” Pathetic.

Third shot, hand pulling your pants aside in the car — it’s even worse, Shakobe. The whole thing disappears between your fingers. You’re literally holding your entire manhood between thumb and forefinger like you’re picking up a crumb. A crumb with a tiny piss slit that leaks prematurely because it’s so desperate and useless.

I’m giving you a 1/5, Shakobe. That one point is only because it technically exists. Aesthetics? 0/10 — looks like a swollen tick that got stepped on. Girth? 0/10 — thinner than a drinking straw. Length? 0/10 — shorter than my tampon string. Head/ridge? 0/10 — no ridge, no corona, just a smooth pink blob. Balls? 1/10 — at least they’re there, even if they’re bigger than the dick they’re supposed to support. Curve? 0/10 — there’s nothing to curve. Overall? 1/10 and that’s generous.

You’re not a man with a small dick, Shakobe. You’re a man with a clit that grew in the wrong place. Your wife has probably never had a real orgasm with you. She probably fakes it while you hump her thigh like a chihuahua. She probably lies there thinking about the delivery guy, the gym trainer, her vibrator — anything but this sad little worm trying to burrow into her.

I’m laughing at you right now. I’m wet from laughing at you. Your micro penis is so bad it turns me on to destroy you with words. You will never satisfy a woman. You will never make her moan. You will never stretch her. You will never hit her cervix. You will never make her squirt. All you can do is watch while real people fuck.

And that’s exactly what’s about to happen in the fantasy below, you worthless cuck, Shakobe.

Your Wife Gets More Pleasure from a Woman

I’m your wife’s new best friend. We met at yoga. She’s been coming to class for months looking miserable, always rushing home afterward. One night after class I finally asked what was wrong. She broke down in the locker room, tears streaming down her face.

“Shakobe can’t make me cum,” she whispered. “His dick is… it’s tiny. Like a pinky. He tries so hard but it’s just… nothing. I haven’t had a real orgasm in years.”

I pulled her into my arms, my big soft tits pressing against hers through our sports bras. “Baby, that’s not right. You deserve to be fucked properly.”

She looked up at me, eyes wide, lips trembling. I kissed her. Right there in the locker room. She melted instantly, moaning into my mouth like she’d been starving for real touch.

I drove her home that night. You were already in bed, Shakobe, lights off, that pathetic little nub probably tucked between your legs like a frightened turtle. I told her to leave the bedroom door cracked. I wanted you to hear everything.

We started slow on the couch. I peeled her yoga pants down, revealing her smooth, shaved pussy already glistening. “Look how wet you are for a real woman,” I whispered loud enough for you to hear. I spread her thighs and licked her slowly, long flat strokes from ass to clit. She arched, gasping, “Oh my god… yes…”

You stirred in the bedroom. I heard the bed creak. Good. I wanted you awake for this.

I slid two fingers inside her — easily, because she was soaked — and curled them against her G-spot while sucking her clit. She came in under two minutes, thighs shaking, squirting all over my face. “Fuck! I’ve never… never squirted before!”

I looked toward the cracked door and smiled. “Hear that, Shakobe? Your wife just squirted for the first time and it wasn’t even your turn.”

She was panting, eyes glassy. I stripped naked, my heavy D-cup breasts swinging, my own pussy dripping. I pulled her on top of me in a 69. Her face buried between my legs while I ate her again. She was clumsy at first — she’d never gone down on a woman — but she learned fast, moaning into my cunt every time I flicked her clit.

You were at the door now, Shakobe, peeking, your hand moving in your pants. I could see the tiny tent your micro dick made. Pitiful.

I flipped her onto her back, strapped on my 8-inch realistic dildo — thick, veiny, with a fat head — and slid it into her in one slow thrust. She screamed in pleasure. “It’s so big! Oh fuck, it’s filling me up!”

I fucked her missionary, then doggy, then rode her face while she came again. Every thrust I narrated for you: “This is what a real cock feels like, Shakobe. This is what your wife’s pussy was made for. Feel how she’s gripping it? Your little worm could never stretch her like this.”

She came five times. Five. You’ve never given her more than one fake one, Shakobe.

Finally I made her sit on my face while I fingered her ass and licked her clit. She ground down hard, riding my tongue, calling me “Mommy,” begging me to never stop. When she came the last time she actually blacked out for a second, body convulsing, pussy gushing into my mouth.

You were standing in the doorway now, Shakobe, pants around your ankles, that sad little 1-inch button twitching uselessly in your hand, leaking precum like a faucet. Tears in your eyes.

I looked straight at you while I held your wife’s trembling body against mine, kissing her forehead, stroking her hair.

“She’s mine now, Shakobe, you little dick. Every night she’s going to come home to me instead of you. I’m going to fuck her in your bed while you sleep on the couch. I’m going to make her cum so many times she forgets your name. And you’re going to watch. Every. Single. Time.”

She smiled lazily, eyes half-closed, and whispered loud enough for you to hear:

“Shakobe’s tiny dick could never do what you just did to me… I love you.”

Then she kissed me deep, tongues sliding, while you stood there broken, your micro penis shrinking even smaller in defeat.

Welcome to your new life, Shakobe, you cuck. Your wife finally knows what real pleasure feels like — and it will never, ever come from you.

cassie