Inadequacies

It is the testicles that epitomize the optimism of the sadly inadequate man. Such a nice, full, and tight scrotum hugging two well-shaped testes unfortunately paired with a small penis. It isn’t their fault so little use will come to them. 

The optimistic testicles are really a curse. They chug along producing sperm that will go to waste and testosterone that will create the drive in their owner’s brain that will so rarely be fulfilled. Even when she allows him to experience marital relations, the act ends with a premature ejaculation, a frustrated spouse, and renewed shame in his inadequacies. 

“It’s OK,” she’ll say as she strokes the back of the nice gentle sweet man she married. As he softens and slips from her warmth, he hides his face from the woman he disappointed again. He just wants to slink away and disappear but even getting off of her will mean that she will see his face, his tiny but satisfied penis, and his proud testicles. 

He almost wishes she was angry; that she would make him pay for his inadequacies. The only sign of his attempted ravaging of her vagina is the semen leaking from her opening. His short member failed to even deposit his load far enough up her canal to prevent it from almost immediately leaking out. He knows he should provide her with oral satisfaction to make up for his short and apparently barely noticed rutting but the thought of tasting his own semen disgusts him in his post-orgasmic state. 

If only she would force him to do the right thing. He should be punished for being such a lame excuse of a husband, a man, and a lover. Certainly marital congress is appropriate for married couples but if he cannot satisfy his wife, he should be held accountable. He should be punished and taught to use what little he has to offer. Everyone is dealt a hand of cards but some just must make do and play their hand with skill. Skill can be taught. 

He wants to ask for what he deserves, what he needs, what will take away his guilt and shame. Premature ejaculators deserve blistered bottoms; it is the only way they will learn. Perhaps he could last longer if he knew that she would spank him well past tears if he failed her? 

She always needs to orgasm and he should always be prepared no matter what to provider her with help from his tongue to make that happen. No matter if her vagina is sparkling clean or befouled with semen, he must provide her with the satisfaction she deserves. Failure to comply eagerly and without delay should merit even more attention to his bottom. 

To be hung like a little boy means that one should be treated, taught, and punished like a little boy. With uncharacteristic courage, he gulps before beginning his poorly prepared but long overdue speech: “It isn’t OK. You deserve better. A man, you deserve a real man that can really make love to you. I’m sorry. I know I should, you know, help you finish with, you know…” he trails off pointing stupidly at his mouth. Staring at the stream of his seed exiting the woman he used for his own satisfaction, he continues: “But it is gross after I make in you. I think you should make me make you happy.” 

“And how should I do that?” she asks with a tone of voice he can’t quite place. 

“I think you should spank me until I behave,” whispers the man as he shrinks and softens like the flaccid member dangling impotently above the cause of all his troubles. 

She sighs but not one of despair but of weight being lifted. “Yes, I’ve thought so too. I waited until marriage to have sex and for the life of me, I don’t know why. All that carnal bliss I was promised, whatever…,” she declared with a wave of her hands. “Yes, get down there and make me feel like everyone told me I would. Every damn pastor, parent, teacher, youth group leader, even my fucking friends. So help me, never mind, I’m mad and you’re about find out exactly how mad I am.” 

Pointing at a drawer he assumed was where she kept socks or something, “Go get the hairbrush from that drawer. It is way in the back,” she barked. “I’ve  wanted to use this on your bottom for a long time. You’ve been lucky that I am so patient. God, all this time just waiting for you to mature. Ugh, what a waste.” 

As he walked across the room feeling a few drops of semen–the signs of his moment of selfish bliss–splash on his thighs, he heard his bride mumble, “thought I married a man but no, just a selfish little boy.” Grabbing tissues from her nightstand and cramming them to her crotch to stem the flow of her husband’s shame, she continued, “act like a little boy, will you? Fine, I’ll treat you like a little boy.” 

Carrying the heavy and solid hairbrush back to the beautiful woman perched on the edge of the bed, the little boy cried silent tears of resignation and relief. Finally, he will atone. Finally, he will be cleansed. Finally, he will begin the journey to become the husband she deserves.