Sam and Stan

Finding the bathroom, Sam clicked on the switch for the light above the vanity and locked the door. Placing Stan down upon the imitation granite laminate countertop, she put the toilet seat lid down and took a seat facing him.

Putting a stern expression on his face, “First off, and I need to get this off my chest,” Stan started, moving closer to Sam, “let me state I am still incredibly miffed at how you mishandled this thing. Oliver is a damn good kid and I’m no slouch. That said, given this whole shrinking thing, I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but you and your dumb sorority sisters need to realize just because I have a dick doesn’t mean I’m completely useless,” he asserted.

Silently, she nodded, relief still surging through her. She tried to hide a smile because despite his assurance of competence, his diminutive stature belied his claim, though at this moment she did not feel it particularly prudent to point out his current height.

Putting hands behind his back, Stan pivoted to the side, pacing a few steps, “I don’t know exactly what the future or whether or not this shit is permanent, but I’m okay. As long as I am with you, I am okay,” he offered, nodding slightly, more to himself than her.

Leaning closer, “Stan baby, I knew you would be mad, but you don’t know how much I hoped you would understand. I love you, I love Oliver and I just couldn’t see another way,” she started.

Raising a hand to silence, “What’s done is done. I can’t begin to describe how I feel right now, not just emotionally, but physically, just everything is so new, different,” he shared, glancing down at his unapologetic tumescence.

Sam knew without a doubt her choices had wounded Stan, and he had every right to express his ire, but listening to him speak now, the tone of his voice, she knew the wound was not fatal; they would be okay. Looking down on the diminutive form of the man she loved, she had honestly never imagined him this way but seeing him thus, especially in light of his obvious heightened excitement filled her with a deep desire.

Glancing around the interior of the brightly bathroom, Stan chuckled and nodded. “Probably not the most romantic of locations, but come here woman, I want some sugar,” he instructed, flashing her a sly smile and beckoning her closer with his hand.

She wanted him. Not to own or dominate, but to share a mutually rewarding experience. Reaching down, she curled her hand delicately around him and brought him up near her face. Pressing soft lips against his face and upper torso carefully in a near full body kiss she delighted in the sensation, feeling her body beginning to respond.

For Stan, the feeling was incredible, the velvet texture of her lips molding around him almost sent him over the edge. Why did it turn him on so much? Sure, he loved her and they enjoyed a very rewarding, energetic and invigorating sex life, this was something new, something completely out of this world.

Finishing the kiss, Sam eased her hand away, eyes on the tiny prize, “Are you okay?” she questioned, a great many years since she had indulged in any type of love play with a tiny.

Swivel around in her palm, “Are you kidding me?” growled Stan.

Recognizing the cast of his expression, Sam grinned. Usually when he behaved like this, she knew she was in for some great sex. “Are you sure you can deliver?” she asked, slight tease in her tone.

Nodding slowly, deliberately, “Sweetheart, you have no idea the kind of trouble you are in right now,” he warned.

Eyebrow arching as she angled her head to one side, “Really?” she challenged, drawing out the word.

“Uh huh,” he assured, tongue touching the corner of his mouth as his eyes roamed down her body. He knew what she liked.

“Well then,” she started, gasping suddenly and hand jerking violently.

Spreading out in her hand, “What?” Stan asked, concerned by the unexpected motion.

Sam felt her body go into full swoon, every nerve ending exquisitely alive and tingling with desire. A moan escaped her lips, eyes squinting as she tried to focus on the tiny man in her hand, the space betwixt her thighs awash in her own juices.

“Are you okay babe?” Stan inquired.

Struggling to find her voice, she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and nodded weakly. Why was this happening? It was as if a tidal wave rolled over her and left her in a heightened state of urgent need. Placing Stan back on the counter, she stood upright, hands fumbling with the button on her blue jeans.

Getting to his feet, Stan saw what she was trying to do and grinned, “You’re on baby,” he quipped.

Getting the button unfastened, she practically tore her jeans off, unabashed by the slick discoloration of heat seeping through the front of her white cotton panties. Slipping her thumbs into the elastic, she started to pull them down, but Stan halted her by raising his hand.

“Leave them on baby,” he purred.

Nodding, she pulled them back up, but drew out the front, exposing the slightly stubbly pale flesh of her swollen and slick mound. Snatching him up with her free hand, she adroitly slipped him into the cleft of her lubricated sex and release her panties, another mewl of sheer delight escaping her throat.

Stan had always loved the way Sam tasted, devouring every drop of nectar her climax generated when they made love. This was on a completely different scale. Enfolded by her engorged labial folds, he found the all-encompassing warmth nearly overwhelming. Her size was definitely new, but he did know her flesh, knew exactly how to tease her, please her, and drive her into a frenzy. Every breath was of her, laden with her essence drawn deep into his body. Twisting sideways amidst the slippery petals, he reached his hands upward toward the nexus of her arousal, dancing ever so lightly across the taut surface. He did struggle to find footing amongst the soft tissue covered in her grool. It was almost as if her ravenous pussy were a living thing, trying to draw him in and devour him.

Head back, Sam moaned at the expert manipulation, parting her legs wider and tilting her pelvis craving more. Stan relentlessly tormented her, taking her beyond anything she had ever experience before in her life. She wanted to come so bad.

Stan’s movement turned more from deliberate ministration to self-preservation.

“Stan!” Sam cried, pressing her fingers against the exterior of her sodden panties. Moving him in little circles against her pussy, he felt so good.

Feeling the gravity of her vagina greedily sucking him into her, Stan did not fight it, instead relishing the intensity of her impending climax. He could feel himself crossing the threshold of no return.

Body like a coiled spring, Sam erupted, convulsively, spasmodically.