The barbecue was already in motion by the time we arrived, like we’d stepped into the middle of a scene instead of the beginning of one.

Marvin’s parents’ backyard stretched wider than it needed to, a rectangle of green with a faded wooden fence and a grill that had clearly seen better summers. The smell of charcoal and lighter fluid hung in the air, mixing with cheap beer and cut grass.

Someone—Jeremiah, I think—had already claimed DJ duties, flipping between old-school hip-hop and early-2000s alt-rock, the kind of playlist that made everyone feel younger than they were.

Amy stayed close to me at first. She didn’t know anyone there—she was my friend from work, my carefully rehearsed plus-one—and I could feel her hand brush my arm as we moved through introductions. Marvin and Gina waved us in with plastic cups already sweating in their hands.

Patty laughed loud and fast, like she’d been drinking since noon. Peter and Stephanie were mid-argument about something trivial, the kind couples only fight about when they’ve been together long enough to forget the stakes. Sal leaned against the picnic table, sunglasses on, grin already loaded.

The first hour disappeared the way good afternoons always do—without asking permission. Cards were dealt. Beers were opened. Shots appeared as if summoned. We sat around a folding table with warped legs, the surface sticky from years of spills. Amy laughed easily, her shoulders loosening, her voice climbing a little higher each time the music hit a song she recognized.

Every so often, she leaned toward me to say something—about how strong the drinks were, about how she couldn’t believe how nice everyone seemed—and each time I told myself, “This is it. This is going well.”

By the hour-and-a-half mark, the sun had shifted just enough to put half the yard in shade. That’s when I noticed her laugh change. Not louder—lighter. Less guarded. I looked up from my cards and saw Amy standing near the cooler with Sal. They weren’t doing anything dramatic. Just talking. Joking. The kind of effortless back-and-forth that doesn’t need an audience.

Sal said something I couldn’t hear over the music, and Amy laughed, a full, bright sound, then lightly smacked his arm like it was second nature. He exaggerated the impact, clutching his bicep, and she shook her head at him, smiling.

And just like that, I wasn’t part of the moment anymore. I watched from my chair as if the scene had tilted slightly, not enough for anyone else to notice. She leaned in when he spoke. He leaned back, relaxed, confident, already comfortable in the space. I told myself I was imagining it, that people are allowed to laugh with other people, that this didn’t mean anything. Still, I felt the distance grow—small at first, then unmistakable.

Someone handed me another drink. I took it without looking. Around us, the afternoon kept doing what afternoons do. Gina clapped along to the music. Jeremiah and Patty disappeared toward the side of the house. Peter finally laughed, argument forgotten. Marvin flipped burgers, calling out to no one in particular.

Amy didn’t look back at me. I wondered when that had happened—when the easy orbit we’d shared at work, the lunches and inside jokes, had loosened just enough for someone else to step in. I wondered if she’d ever been thinking of me the way I’d been thinking of her, or if I’d misread the whole thing from the start.

The song changed. The sun dipped lower. Sal said something else, and Amy laughed again.

I stared into my cup, watching the ice melt, and tried to decide whether to stand up and join them—or stay where I was and let the moment pass, unfinished, like so many others that never announce what they’re about to become.

The idea came out sloppy and half-laughed, like most bad ideas do when everyone’s already buzzed.

“Let’s play charades,” someone said—Peter, I think—then immediately added, “Adult version.” That word adult landed heavy and promising. Phones came out for timers. Chairs scraped into a loose circle on the grass. Someone turned the music down just enough for heckling to be heard.

The rules got explained loudly and poorly, revised mid-sentence, then ignored almost immediately. Pairs formed fast. Too fast.

Amy and Sal didn’t even look around. They just drifted together like it was pre-decided, shoulder to shoulder, grinning like co-conspirators. Marvin paired with Gina. Jeremiah with Patty. Peter and Stephanie locked in with the kind of competitive eye contact that suggested unresolved arguments would soon surface.

I was left standing there, cup in hand, unclaimed.

“Uh—solo gamer?” someone joked.

Laughter rolled through the group. Not cruel, not kind. Just noise. The game started rough and got worse fast.

Gina went first, acting out something that involved exaggerated hip thrusts and a lot of pointing toward Marvin’s mouth. Marvin turned red instantly, guessing wrong on purpose, which only made everyone shout louder.

Patty followed with something that required her to drop to her knees dramatically—hands in prayer, tongue poking out between her teeth—while Jeremiah yelled guesses that were somehow both wrong and too specific.

When it was Amy and Sal’s turn, the energy shifted.

Sal pulled a slip of paper, read it, raised his eyebrows, and grinned. Amy laughed before he even started, already leaning into him like she was in on the joke.

What followed was a perfectly synchronized mess of suggestion—Sal miming slow, deliberate movements behind her, Amy reacting with exaggerated eye-rolls and mock gasps, her hands fluttering, then bracing on her knees. Nothing explicit, nothing concrete—but everyone knew exactly what was being implied.

The guesses flew fast.

“Doggy!”

“No—reverse cow—”

“Morning sex!”

“Something with a couch!”

Amy laughed harder with every shout, smacking Sal’s arm again when someone got close. Sal soaked it in, playing to the crowd, adding flair, hamming it up. When the answer finally landed, they high-fived, still laughing, still close.

I clapped when everyone else did. A beat late. My turn came and went like background noise. I acted something vague and forgettable. No one really watched. Someone checked their phone. Someone refilled a drink. The timer buzzed, and nobody cared.

By the time the game dissolved into arguments about cheating and “that’s not how charades works,” Amy was sitting on the edge of the picnic table next to Sal, knees turned toward him, her laughter softer now, private.

The afternoon light kept slipping, shadows stretching across the yard. I stayed where I was, cup empty, hands idle, watching a game that had somehow turned into a demonstration—of chemistry, of momentum, of how easily a place can fill up without you.

And no one said anything about it ending.

The game didn’t slow down after that. If anything, the slips of paper got bolder. Someone added a rule—no movies, no celebrities, just acts—and the circle reacted like it had been waiting for permission. Phones were set face-down now. Drinks refilled automatically. Nobody pretended this was still innocent.

Marvin and Gina went first again. Gina bent forward at the waist, bracing herself on her knees, hair spilling over her face while Marvin hovered behind her, hips rocking in exaggerated slow motion like he was following instructions from a very patient manual.

The crowd started shouting before the timer even hit ten seconds.

“Rear entry!”

“No—romantic rear entry!”

“After leg day!”

“Laundry room special!”

“Why does Marvin look like he’s apologizing?”

Gina slapped the table and pointed when someone finally yelled the right one: “Doggy style!”

Ding. Cheers. Marvin bowed like he’d survived something. Jeremiah and Patty were next, and they somehow made theirs feel athletic. Patty sprawled across the picnic table, one leg dangling dramatically, miming overstated enjoyment while Jeremiah pantomimed frantic effort—starting strong, pausing to stretch his back, wiping sweat, then diving back in like he’d remembered something important.

Guesses stacked fast and filthy.

“Tabletop!”

“Afternoon quickie!”

“Bad back edition!”

“Round two?”

“No—round one and a half!”

Patty clapped when someone finally nailed it: “Kitchen counter sex!”

Jeremiah pumped a fist like he’d won a relay.

Then Amy and Sal stepped up again. This time, there was no hesitation. Sal read the slip and grinned immediately. Amy took one look and laughed into her hand, shaking her head like she’d been dared—but she stepped into the middle anyway. Sal positioned himself just behind her, close but careful, hands hovering at her hips like they were part of the act without ever touching.

Amy exaggerated slow anticipation—counting on her fingers, pretending to wait. Sal mimed restraint, deep breaths, dramatic pauses. When he finally “started,” it was slow, controlled, deliberate—everything implied, nothing shown. The crowd lost it.

“Oh that’s foreplay! No, no—that’s earned foreplay!”

“Take your time!”

“Is this edging?”

“That’s edging!”

“This feels intimate and I’m uncomfortable!”

Amy laughed harder with every guess, smacking Sal’s arm again when someone got close. The correct answer finally landed, shouted loud and proud: “Slow, passionate sex.”

Not a position. Not a gimmick. Just… that. The cheering was louder than it had been all afternoon.

My turn passed quietly again. I acted something forgettable. Someone guessed. Someone didn’t. The timer buzzed. Nobody argued.

The game kept going. Peter and Stephanie acted out “angry makeup sex.

Marvin and Gina came back with “shower sex.

Jeremiah and Patty pushed it with “car sex”, complete with imaginary fogged windows.

Each round got louder. Dirtier. More confident. Amy didn’t move back to my side after her turn. She stayed near Sal, perched on the edge of the picnic table, knees angled toward him, still laughing, still warm from the attention.

The sun dropped lower. Shadows stretched across the grass. The grill hissed quietly in the background, forgotten.

I stayed seated, cup empty, hands idle, watching answers get revealed that had nothing to do with me.

And I couldn’t tell anymore whether the game was still charades or just everyone slowly admitting what kind of energy they were willing to follow— and who they were willing to leave sitting out while it happened.

The game didn’t cool off after that round.
It sharpened. Someone refilled the bowl with new slips—thicker paper now, folded tighter, like the words inside needed containing. The laughter had changed too. Less goofy. More anticipatory. People leaned forward instead of back.

Amy and Sal didn’t claim another turn. They just… ended up there again. Standing closer this time. Close enough that when Sal spoke, Amy tilted her head toward him automatically, like her body already knew where to listen. When the slip was read, Amy laughed and shook her head, muttering something I couldn’t hear.

Sal shrugged like hey, rules are rules. They stepped into the center. This one was slower. Deliberate.

Sal mimed restraint—hands clasped behind his back, pacing a step behind her like he was waiting for permission that hadn’t been granted yet.

Amy exaggerated awareness of him without turning around, glancing over her shoulder, smirking, then looking away again. She counted on her fingers. One. Two. Three. Paused. Reset.

The crowd started murmuring before anyone guessed.

“Ohhh that’s torture.”

“That’s patience.”

“No—that’s denial.”

“Why is this so hot?”

Amy leaned forward slightly, like she was testing an invisible line. Sal froze, then mimed backing off, hands up, shaking his head in mock agony. Amy laughed, but it was different now—quieter, breathier, like she was feeling something instead of performing it.

Guesses flew faster.

“Power tease!”

“Control!”

“Is that edging?”

“That’s absolutely edging!

“Someone stop them!”

They were inches apart now. Not touching. Not quite. Sal leaned in just enough that Amy could feel him there without seeing him. She tilted her head back reflexively, then caught herself, laughing and straightening up like she’d revealed too much.

The yard went loud.

“OHHHH—did you see that?”

“That was instinct!”

“That wasn’t acting!”

“Do it again!”

Amy turned halfway toward him, smiling, face flushed, eyes bright. Sal said something under his breath—something meant only for her—and she laughed again, softer, closer. Their faces were close now. Too close to ignore. Close enough that everyone noticed.

The chanting started half as a joke.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Someone clapped in rhythm. Someone whistled. Someone yelled, “Charades rules don’t say you can’t!”

My stomach dropped.

Amy shook her head, laughing, hands up. “No, no—time’s not up.”

Sal leaned back a fraction, palms open, innocent expression plastered on his face. The crowd booed playfully, hungry. The timer buzzed.

Groans. Applause. Shouts of “ROBBED!” and “BEST ROUND YET!”

Amy exhaled like she’d been holding her breath too long. Sal laughed, shaking his head—and then, in the half-second after the noise peaked, when everyone thought the moment had passed—they leaned in.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t hungry. Just a quick peck. Light. Almost polite. The kind of kiss that pretends it doesn’t mean anything by how fast it’s over.

But the yard exploded anyway.

Cheers. Whistles. Hands clapping hard enough to sting. Someone yelled, “THERE IT IS!” Someone else shouted, “CALLED IT!” Phones came up. Drinks sloshed. Laughter roared like the payoff everyone had been waiting for.

Amy covered her mouth, eyes wide, laughing like she’d been caught in a harmless mistake. Sal threw his hands up, grinning, shaking his head like he’d just lost a bet he was happy to pay.

“No no—”

“That wasn’t—”

“Okay, okay—”

None of it mattered. The applause didn’t stop. People were still cheering, still clapping, still celebrating something they’d decided belonged to them.

I sat there, unmoving.

No one looked at me. No one checked my face. No one noticed that I hadn’t laughed, hadn’t clapped, hadn’t joined in. These were my friends—people who knew my stories, my history, the way I went quiet when something cut too deep.

In that moment, I didn’t exist. Amy didn’t look for me afterward. She stayed where she was, still smiling, still flushed, still standing close to Sal like the space between them had officially been retired.

The game kept going, louder and looser and drunker.

And I stayed seated, stomach hollow, watching myself disappear from an afternoon I had brought her into—knowing something irreversible had just happened, and realizing with a dull, sinking certainty that no one there was going to pretend otherwise.

The rules changed the way bad ideas always do—half-joking, half-dared into existence.

“New rule,” Peter announced, already slurring a little. “No more pretending. You gotta act it out literally.”

A beat of silence. Then laughter. Then clapping.

“Define literally!” someone shouted.

“Commitment!” Sal said, spreading his arms wide. “Method acting!”

The circle tightened again. The air felt warmer now, thicker, like the yard had shrunk around us.

The first pair jumped in before anyone could rethink it.

Jeremiah and Patty.

Their prompt was simple—too simple. They took positions immediately. Patty kicked off her sandals and climbed up onto the picnic table like it was a stage. Jeremiah dragged a chair over, sat, then stood again like he couldn’t decide how bold was too bold.

She exaggerated every movement—arching, posing, throwing her head back like she was performing for a balcony. Jeremiah mirrored it with theatrical intensity, pantomiming effort, stopping to “wipe sweat,” restarting with renewed drama.

The crowd howled.

“TOO REAL!”

“That’s a full Broadway production!”

“Give him a Tony!”

Patty laughed and shrugged out of her light jacket mid-act, tossing it to the side like punctuation. No one objected. If anything, it raised the volume.

Next came Marvin and Gina.

They leaned hard into the “literal” part—overdoing every detail. Marvin mimed turning knobs, adjusting imaginary water temperature, while Gina exaggerated shivers and gasps, wrapping her arms around herself like she was cold, then very much not. Marvin slipped off his shoes at some point—why, no one knew—but it earned applause anyway.

“IMMERSION!”

“That’s commitment!”

“OSCAR-WORTHY!”

By the time Amy and Sal stepped forward again, the tone had shifted completely. This wasn’t a party game anymore. It was a dare spiral. They read the prompt together this time. Amy’s laugh came out higher than before, a mix of nerves and adrenaline. Sal raised his eyebrows, grinning like he’d already decided there was no backing out.

“Literal,” someone reminded them. Amy took a breath.

She slipped off her shoes first. Set them neatly aside. It felt deliberate—like crossing a line carefully, not accidentally. Sal followed suit, unbuttoning his sleeves, rolling them up like he was preparing for work instead of a game.

They acted it out slowly, overcommitting to every beat. Amy exaggerated reactions. Sal exaggerated restraint. They closed distance without touching, then reset, then closed it again, like the closeness itself was the performance.

Guesses flew, louder and more reckless now.

“THIS IS TOO MUCH!”

“No—KEEP GOING!”

“That’s method!”

“That’s dangerous!”

“WHY IS THIS STILL CHARADES?”

Amy laughed, breathless, brushing hair out of her face. Sal mirrored her movements unconsciously, stepping when she stepped, stopping when she stopped. At one point, she shrugged out of her light hoodie—nothing dramatic, nothing forbidden—but the crowd reacted like it was a mic drop.

Whistles. Cheers. Someone actually stood up to clap.

I didn’t. I couldn’t. I sat there, hands locked around an empty cup, watching layers come off—not just clothes, but hesitation, context, memory. Watching the people I knew turn into an audience that wanted escalation more than awareness.

No one checked on me. No one even glanced my way.

Amy didn’t look at me once during that round. She was too busy acting something out literally—too busy standing close to Sal, laughing, glowing under attention that fed on itself. Too busy becoming someone else in a space that used to feel like it included me.

The game roared on, louder, looser, uncontained. And I stayed seated, invisible, realizing this wasn’t about charades anymore—or rules—or even the kiss. It was about how easily a room can agree to forget you
when something more entertaining steps into the center.

The game dragged on long past when anyone pretended it was still clever. Time blurred. Drinks emptied and refilled. The music got louder, then quieter, then irrelevant. What mattered was momentum—and the group had decided momentum meant more.

Layers came off around the circle, casually at first. Shoes abandoned. Jackets tossed over chairs. Shirts loosened, untucked, draped over coolers like afterthoughts. By the time someone joked that the “dress code was optional,” nobody laughed like it was a joke.

People acted bigger now. Louder. Sloppier. Scenes were stretched into performances—full-bodied, exaggerated, committed. Couples climbed onto furniture. Someone used the grill lid like a prop. Someone else knocked over a chair and didn’t bother setting it upright again.

The crowd rewarded excess. Cheers for boldness.
Applause for audacity. Whistles when someone crossed a line and didn’t immediately retreat. Amy and Sal kept answering the call.

Each of their turns pushed further than the last—not in a rush, but with confidence. Amy played to the crowd now, fully aware of where eyes were. Sal leaned into the role of partner-in-crime, amplifying every beat, every pause, every near-miss.

They committed harder. Stood closer. Let moments linger. By the final round they took, the circle was tight, attention absolute. Whatever they were acting out didn’t need guessing anymore—it was obvious enough that the crowd reacted before anyone shouted an answer.

Amy hesitated once. Just once. Then laughed and kept going. Sal followed her lead without question.

The performance ended with both of them having clearly crossed a boundary the game had pretended not to have—an unmistakable point of no return that made the yard erupt.

The applause was immediate and overwhelming. People stood up. Hands clapped hard.

Someone yelled, “HOLY SHIT.”

Someone else shouted, “GAME. OVER.”

It wasn’t about the answer. It was about the spectacle.

Amy smiled, breathless, cheeks flushed, soaking in the noise like it belonged to her. Sal bowed dramatically, arms wide, grinning like he’d just closed a show.

I didn’t move. No one looked at me. Not once. Not during the clapping, not during the laughter, not during the moment everyone agreed—without saying it—that something unforgettable had just happened. These were my friends
And none of them saw me anymore. The game dissolved after that—not with an ending, just with exhaustion. People talking over each other. Someone turning the music back up. Someone suggesting “one last drink.”

Amy stayed near Sal. Close. Easy. Familiar.

And I stayed seated, hollowed out, realizing the worst part wasn’t what had happened in front of me—

It was how loudly everyone celebrated it,
and how completely they forgot I was ever part of the afternoon at all.

“Let’s go inside for a nightcap…more drinking, dancing, laughing…whatever.”

No one batted an eye. Everyone got up and headed inside. Amy and Sal walked in together, Amy keeping a keen eye on Sal’s crotch as he took her hand in his. He led her through the basement door and up the stairs to the living room.

I followed behind everyone, but went to the bathroom to pee. When I reached the living room, I saw Amy and Sal dancing, close, with her arms around his neck and his arms wrapped around her waist, his hands resting above her butt. Their faces touching lightly on the side, their lips not too far from each other. I cleared my throat to announce my arrival.

The other couples were paired off; most were either making out or just feeling each other up. Regardless, none of them even acknowledged me. I was left there hearing the sounds of them either making out, or moaning from said feeling.

I noticed Sal’s hand had lowered to Amy’s right butt cheek. His other hand was rubbing the side of her waist. He whispered something in her ear and she threw her head back, laughing.

Her eyes went wide, and she said, “Ok, whenever, wherever.” Then Sal went over to Marvin and talked to him about something I couldn’t hear.

I wondered what Amy was talking about as my name was called. It was Marvin waving me over. He asked me to help him bring the extra beer from outside back to the house. We went out and brought the beers in. By the time we got back in, Amy and Sal were nowhere to be seen.

I asked where they were and Marvin said Amy felt a little sick to her stomach, so Sal took her to the upstairs bathroom to get some medicine to calm her tummy down.

My curiosity peaked when I heard a loud gasp from upstairs, followed by a “WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?”

I went to the staircase and crept up slowly. I heard a few laughs from the rest of the group and Jeremiah said to me,

“I wouldn’t go up there. Trust me Danny, she’s feeling really sick, my man. Don’t worry, though, Sal’s taking extra special care of her.”

The group laughed harder. I kept creeping upwards until I reached the top step. The bathroom was right there, but the door was open and nobody was inside. Then I heard conversation from Marvin’s parents' room. I took my shoes off and crept even quieter towards the back.

There were two entrances to the bedroom, the main door, and through the bathroom. That door was creaked open a bit, but didn’t hear anything other than someone who had a sucking candy. I peered through the crack in the door and almost passed out.

There she was, Amy, the blonde Latina, woman of my dreams, completely naked, on her knees, making out with Sal’s huge balls. Then there was his dick… shaved smooth with zero hair on it. Hard as fuck and resting on top of Amy’s head…the fucking thing was a foot long as far as I could tell.

Amy pulled her mouth off his balls and looked up.

“Jesus, Sal, how big is this thing?” as she grabbed his enormous can of soda.

“Over eleven and a half inches,” Sal replied.

No words from Amy, just an awkward cross-eyed stare, as her mouth engulfed the first few inches. She kept taking his log further into her mouth slowly. She got about eight inches of his huge cock down her gullet before she had a gagging fit, like I’ve never heard before.

Sal removed his shirt, leaving them both naked. I looked down and saw my little three-inch raging hardon poking out of my jeans. I heard movement, so I looked back up and saw Amy now lying on her back on the bed with her head at the edge. Her tits, perky and sweaty, looked amazing as Sal stepped up to the edge.

He plopped his balls in her mouth again and had her lick all the way from his sack to his asshole. Amy had no problem doing so, as she was in a complete state of arousal. She ate away at his ass for a few minutes before he pulled back. Then he lowered his cock head onto her lips. She opened, and he began thrusting his tree trunk down her throat.

Her throat bulged so much I thought he was going to poke through it. Holy crap, he eventually got his entire cock down to the balls in her mouth. Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets, and more gagging noises happened.

Sal fucked the shit out of her throat for a few minutes before she needed a break. Then he spun her around, towards me, giving me a great show of her shaved pussy, and tight little butthole. That shot sent me over the edge.

I just said “Fuck it,” unbuckled my belt, and put my hand down my pants. The next thing I saw when I looked back up was Amy pulling her legs up over her head, and closing her eyes, waiting for him to return the favor. Sal was kneeling between her legs. His face went right in for the kill with his tongue out.

Amy started moaning like a wildebeest as Sal was fervently eating her pussy like he owned it. And judging by Amy’s grunts, he did. Her hands pulled his head closer as she was screaming at this point. It only took a minute before Amy started bucking and spasming with a squirting orgasm.

“OH MY GOD BABY, YOU’RE MAKING ME CUM SO HAAAAAARD.”

A second orgasm quickly followed. I heard cheering and laughing coming from the basement.

“Damn, she sounds like she’s in heaven. I haven’t heard screams like that before, he must know what he’s doing.”

“Yo, is Danny still up there? What the fuck, dude? He must get off on this shit.”

I wanted to leave the house so badly, but I couldn’t stop watching Amy in motion. I came twice over the next five minutes of him eating her pussy and ass. Amy started crying and said, “Holy shit, I’ve never felt like this before. Keep going, baby, don’t stop, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh, you already have, trust me. It’s a pleasure pleasuring you.”

“Then keep at it, Sally.”

Sal instantly went and dove back in, even harsher than before. I kept jacking my little weewee into another orgasm. Both Amy and I came together. It was the third load in my pants, so I had to take them off as Sal lay down on the bed. He motioned for Amy to sit on his cock, and she did without thought.

Amy slid down on his dick head. She screamed louder as every thick inch passed through her opening. I tried to take my pants off quietly, but the belt buckle slipped out of my hand and hit the floor. Both of them stopped and turned towards me.

Amy squeaked and yelled at me, “Dude, what the fuck? You fucking pervert, get out of here.”

But Sal stopped her from saying more.

“Let him stay, I mean, he’s already seen so much, we have to let him stay and at least watch.”

Amy said, “Whatever, perv, come in, I guess.”

I stepped into the room with my pants hanging half off me.

“Get into the swing of things, get naked too, bro.”

I didn’t need any more prompting, thinking maybe they’d include me a little, so I took my shirt off. Then went my jeans. This left little to the imagination, as I was still rock hard, sticking three inches out of my boxers.

Sal said, “Keep going, join us in the nude, you won't regret it.”

I again said “Fuck it.” I dropped my boxers to the floor, but instead of an invite to join, I was met with laughter, especially by Amy.

“HAAAAA, what the fuck, needle dick? Are you even a guy? I’ve seen clits bigger than that.”

I was mortified, as their laughter turned into blood-curdling screams and grunts…mostly from Amy. I’m still naked, just standing there, when I Sal told me to go over and stand in the corner by the door. I did as told, and turned around. I stopped in my tracks as I saw everyone else at the barbecue standing there, looking at me with wide eyes and open-mouthed smiles, looking down at my crotch.

“Holy shit, that’s an acorn, dude. Who the fuck’s dick is that small?”

Stephanie yelled, “Yo, my nephew’s dick is literally twice as big, and he’s eleven.”

That drew more laughter as I stood there utterly embarrassed, naked, with my tiny dick and minuscule balls were on display for everyone. I didn’t even bother covering up, it was useless. I was just outed in front of my best friends for having a tiny dick. There was no turning back now.

The bed was creaking as Amy picked up her pace riding Sal’s horse cock. I stood, frozen as everyone stayed and enjoyed the show. Amy came hard on Sal’s dick with back-to-back orgasms. She then collapsed onto his chest. He got up and pulled Amy up into the doggy position.

She didn’t move a muscle as Sal lined up his cock at her formerly tight snatch. He thrust in as far as her pussy would take it.

Amy screamed out, “OH MY GOD BABY, YOU’RE GONNA MAKE ME CUM AGAIN. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT, BIG DADDY?”

“Fuck yeah, cum on my dick like the good little slut you are.”

“Yeah? I’m your little slut?”

“Fuck yeah, you are, now…get on your knees and open wide, here I come.”

Amy did as instructed and started sucking his balls while he jerked himself off. After about a minute, Sal started grunting. His first giant spurt came shooting out rapid speed and hit the back of her throat hard. Amy choked and fell back. She didn’t close her mouth though, as Sal didn’t stop emptying his seed over her face, chest and mouth.

Sal then fell onto the bed and Amy climbed up next to him. Amy said, “Holy God, baby, that was amazing.”

“You ready for round two?”

“OOOOOOO, Yes, daddy, take me when and wherever.”

“Danny boy, why don’t you go downstairs and get some water for us? We’re dehydrated.”

Amy added, “Be quick, I’m thirsty.”

I again did as told and went down to get a few water bottles. I grabbed six and brought them back up. I got back to the room, dropped all the bottles and stood there slack-jawed. Everyone else was naked. I saw both massive and tiny boobs, shaved pussies and full bushes. Then I looked at the guys.

“Holy shit, they’re all humungous,” I thought to myself. They were all at least six-seven inches soft, with Peter ironically having the biggest dick out of the three. Sal’s was still a couple of inches longer, but they all made me look like a little boy comparatively. Actually, I looked like a little boy, regardless, who was I kidding?

I winced, bent my knees, and covered my now almost hidden penis and dime-sized balls. I asked what was going on, and Gina yelled,

“ORGY TIME!!! EVERYONE FUCK SOMEONE!!!”

The group cheered, then went back to making out.

Gina, Patty, and Stephanie each dropped to their knees and started sucking their boyfriend’s dicks. My teeny weenie got hard again when Amy started sucking Sal’s cock again. He got hard fast and told Amy to ride his dick in reverse cowgirl. She did, and his cock disappeared up her pussy.

Her face grimaced as she was being stretched beyond her limits. She screamed out, “OH WOW, MY PUSSY IS ON FIRE, BABY…I’M YOURS FOREVER.” Then she came again and squirted all over me and my little three-incher, which was still rock hard.

The other couples started fucking hard on the bed around Amy and Sal, while Amy turned around and straddled Sal’s cock, planting a heavy kiss on his lips. She rode him until she came again, then she again got into doggy.

“Surprise me, big boy,” she said with a wink. Sal knew what that meant, as he set his dickhead on her asshole.

Amy squeaked and said, “Just be gentle, baby.”

Sal must not have heard, because he went in her butt full force. Amy screamed in pain, but pain quickly became pleasure. Sal’s huge cock must’ve been hitting sensitive spots, because Amy kept yelling,

“FUCK ME BABY, FUCK MY ASS LIKE YOU OWN IT. DON’T YOU FUCKING STOP UNTIL THAT COCK IS ALL THE WAY UP THERE.”

That threw me over again, and my guy shot out a handful of weak spurts of cum.

Gina said, “EEW, that got on my foot. GROSS, baby dick, now clean it off of me.”

I went to the bathroom, still naked, to get tissues. By the time I got back, the door was shut and locked. I knocked a bunch, and Marvin opened the door.

“Sorry, toothpick, but you need to have a dick larger than a toddler to get back in here…Again, sorry, little dude.” I asked for my clothes back, and he responded by slamming the door shut again. I was left out on the other side of the door…still naked.

I walked downstairs to watch TV until I could get my clothes back. My penis had retracted inside me, as I was cold, leaving me with two tiny marbles under a light bush, as I didn’t have much pubic hair. I reached the bottom step and turned towards the couch. I stood there, frozen.

Marvin’s parents were sitting on the couch chatting with each other until his mom saw me. This woman, whom I’ve known since I was a little kid, pointed at me and started crying laughing.

“WOW, I’m really sorry, Daniel…Like seriously sorry.”

His dad chimed in, “Umm, son…where’s your dick? Do you even have one?”

I couldn’t answer, my dick did it for me. I started getting hard again from the embarrassment.

“Welp, he has one,” his mom exclaimed.

That line made my little guy rock hard again.

“Wow, son…that’s a white tootsie roll. I feel for your girlfriend. Poor girl’s still probably a virgin. Where are your clothes, Danny?”

“In the room upstairs with the rest of the group.”

“And why aren’t you in there with them?”

“Apparently, my cock is too small.”

His mom laughed. “I’m sorry, Daniel, but don’t ever call that tadpole a cock. ”

“Oh, those buggers are clearly having sex upstairs, huh? Sounds like an awfully fun time. I guess it’ too bad for you, isn’t it?”

“Welp, when in Rome, I guess.” That’s what his dad said, then he whispered in his wife’s ear and took his shirt off. His wife followed suit and started taking off her clothes. He turned around and showed me his ass as he let his pants and briefs fall to the floor.

Marvin’s mom was stacked with massive triple D’s, and a huge, full bush of thick pubes. His dad turned back to me and showed me his cock. Holy shit it was long, thick, veiny, and pulsating. His mom grabbed his dad’s dick and started jerking him off.

They made out in front of me until his mom got on her knees. She blew his dad for a few minutes before he sat down on the couch. He had his wife straddle him. They fucked in doggy, seated straddle, reverse cowgirl, lifting her up and fucking her in the air, and finally he pounded her hard in missionary, her knees up at her head, giving me a nice shot of her tight anus.

His dad started grunting hard and said, “Come here, boy, and watch what a real man does.”

I walked over, my penis bobbing like a light switch. I still heard Amy, especially, screaming her lungs out. When I got over to them, his dad’s grunts got louder until he started bucking and emptying his load deep into his wife’s hairy box. Then she called my name.

“Oh Danny boy, why don’t you come up by me. I don’t think it’s fair that you’re left out for having such a teeny peepee.”

I walked over to her and she wrapped her hand around my dick. Her hand was bigger, so she used three fingers. Then said,

“Oh, for the love of Christ, it’s too small to jerk off properly.”

I apologized, and then she took my dick in her mouth. It didn’t take much more than a handful of slurps before I nutted in her mouth. She was pissed that I would do such a thing and yelled at her husband to throw me and my “needle dick out.”

His dad took me by the arm and dragged me to the front door. He opened it and threw me out. I was now standing outside in the open, naked as the day I was born. I heard laughter from above me and saw Amy, Gina, and Marvin looking out the bedroom window.

I was mortified, as I had nothing, not even my sneakers.

“Here, catch.” Then Marvin threw my boxers at me. I quickly picked them up and tried to put them on, but they weren’t mine. It was Marvin’s little brother’s briefs. His brother was seven. I had nothing.

“At least give me my shoes.”

“Ok, but you have to say ‘I have the smallest dick in town, and probably the state.”

I said what I had to. I repeated word-for-word. Then the asshole threw my sneakers in the street. It was the busiest street in town, with four lanes on each side. I ran into the street with Marvin’s brother's tiny briefs covering my dick.  

I retrieved my shoes and quickly got back onto the sidewalk. I bent over to put them on, and a group of older women were walking by. One of them commented on my ass.

“That’s a cute little tushy. Nice little asshole, too.”

I turned around to acknowledge them, but forgot to cover my three-inch erection.

“Wow, that thing’s tiny. My grandson’s is much bigger.”

I ran home as fast as I could; thankfully, I didn't run into any more people. I got home and just thought about what the fuck just happened.

“I just got to see the woman of my dreams naked. Not bad, champ.”

The end

P.S.:

Their fuck fest apparently went on for hours. Everyone swapped partners, and the guys took turns double penetrating each of the girls one by one. Amy and Sal started dating after that; that’s all I know.