You’ve always suspected your girlfriend of having a crush on your best friend. You can’t say anything though because she’s way out of your league and would probably take it as an opportunity to get with him if you even mentioned it. You don’t want to plant the seed in her mind but you fear his has been something she’s thought about for a long time.

Who can blame her? Your best friend is everything you’re not (read: his dick is way bigger than yours. You don’t know how you know this. You don’t want to acknowledge the sad locker room days where you’d change in the bathroom stall because you were so ashamed of the fact that your balls hadn’t dropped yet when you’ve gotten whiplashed by his giant flaccid meat stick on more than one occasion). It’s not like you fight off intrusive thoughts of what it must be able to fuck like him, to be able to see the sheer mass of his dick get crammed into your girlfriend’s tiny holes.

Of course her holes are tiny. She has your pindick to fuck. You’ve seen all the charts, the averages. You know no matter how much she refuses to talk about it, your girlfriend is embarrassed by how small you are. It’s an off-limit topic, the one thing that bruises her ego. You’re honestly not even bad looking, you have a good job, and from the outside you appear to be the perfect package—until you pull your pants down.

Your best friend might be twice the size of you. Maybe more. It’s obscene how huge and fleshy his cock is, and when he turned around and slapped you in the face with it that one time after basketball, your eyes teared at the blunt force trauma. It was an accident, of course, but why did he have to shove it in your face? That same night you looked up penis enlargement surgery until your eyes burned and you fell asleep with corneas so dry you couldn’t even cry if you wanted to, only to dream about his giant dick swinging around, destroying everything, Godzilla to anything in its path.

She doesn’t even ask you. You’re sitting across from her at an overpriced restaurant at one of those places where the fixed menu serves inappropriately tiny courses that nobody would ever be satiated by, and you can’t help but think the universe has a sick sense of humor, as if your girlfriend needs to be reminded of how deprived she is, as if she wasn’t completely aware of your shortcomings. You stew in your incompetency, your mind automatically going straight to how much you wish you had a dick like your best friend’s, because then you could take her home and show her what it’s like to really get stuffed. You don’t, because you can’t, because you’re you. Even if she let you fuck her when you got home she’d send you to the shower right after so she could finish herself with the giant Bad Dragon dildo she keeps in plain sight, an unfailing reminder of how you’ll never be enough. Tonight is different though, and if your mind hadn’t been so clouded by the thought of another man’s dick, you might have heard her the first time she announced, point blank, that she was going to sit on it, sink on it, and fuck him until she squirts all over.

It takes your mind a few seconds to register what she’s just said to you and by the time you fully understand she’s already detailing her plan on mounting the man you called your best friend for more than half your life, as if it’s some kind of conquest, as if this woman hasn’t had every single thing she’s ever wanted served on a silver platter. You know that’s how it’s going to be: he would never protest, wouldn’t even think twice about your decades-long friendship. Bro code is bro code, but nothing matters when you’re dealing with God, Herself. She’d have him eating out the palm of her hand (and maybe her butthole), and she wastes no time getting him on the phone. He picks up within one ring.

To be continued.