A Night at the Hotel Bar: An Unexpected Encounter - A short Story

[MAXXXX100]

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I’m Marcus, a guy who’s spent years sculpting my body into something resembling a mountain—six-foot-four, shoulders like boulders, and arms that could bench a small car. They call me “The Mountain” at the gym, and I wear that nickname like a badge. I travel for work, hitting up fitness expos and strongman competitions, and last weekend, I found myself at a swanky hotel bar in Vegas, nursing a whiskey after a long day of flexing for crowds. That’s where I met her—Lila, a firecracker of a woman with a sharp smile and eyes that promised trouble.

We got to talking over drinks, her laughter cutting through the hum of the bar like a blade. She was in her late 20s, all curves and confidence, wearing a red dress that hugged her like it was custom-made. The whiskey flowed, and so did the banter—teasing, flirty, the kind that makes your pulse race. By the third round, we were leaning close, her hand brushing my arm, my voice dropping low. “You want to take this upstairs?” she asked, her lips curling into a smirk. I didn’t need to be asked twice.

In her room, the air was thick with anticipation. We stumbled through the door, already tangled in a messy, heated kiss. Her hands roamed my chest, tugging at my shirt, and I lifted her onto the bed, savoring the way she gasped against my mouth. I took my time, kissing down her neck, her collarbone, peeling that dress off slowly. I wanted to worship her, and when I reached her thighs, I didn’t rush. I parted her legs, my lips and tongue working slow and deliberate, drawing out every moan, every shudder. She tasted like sin, and I lost myself in it, spending what felt like hours coaxing her pleasure, feeling her fingers grip my hair as she arched against me.

Finally, she tugged at my belt, her voice husky. “Your turn, big guy.” I grinned, standing to let her undo my pants. She slid them down, then my boxers, and—well, that’s when things took a turn. Her eyes locked onto my cock, hard as steel but, yeah, small. Really small. Maybe three inches, uncut, with a bit of foreskin peeking out, standing proud but undeniably tiny. I’ve always known it’s not much, but my size everywhere else usually distracts people. Not Lila. She froze, then let out a laugh—a sharp, disbelieving sound that hit me like a punch.

“Oh my God,” she said, covering her mouth, eyes wide. “Is that… it?” I felt my face heat, but she wasn’t done. She reached out, pinching it between two fingers like it was a cocktail straw, her laughter bubbling up again. “This is the smallest dick I’ve ever seen hard. It’s like a little button!” She gave it a playful tug, and I groaned, half from embarrassment, half because it felt good. She leaned in, still chuckling, and took me in her mouth. It was no challenge for her—my cock barely reached halfway, thin and short, no threat to her throat. She popped off, grinning. “I could do this all day, Marcus. It’s like sucking on a lollipop.”

I should’ve been mortified, but something about her teasing, her confidence, flipped a switch in me. “Go on, tell me,” she said, her voice dripping with mischief. “Admit it—how tiny is your dick?” I swallowed, my voice low. “It’s… pretty damn small.” She laughed again, delighted. “Say it louder, Mountain. Tell me how pathetic that little thing is.” I grinned despite myself, leaning into it. “It’s fucking tiny, alright? Smallest you’ve ever seen.” Her eyes sparkled, and she clapped like I’d won a prize.

“Fuck me,” she demanded, lying back, still smirking. I climbed over her, my massive frame dwarfing her, and slid inside. Or tried to. She raised an eyebrow, then burst out laughing again. “I can’t even feel it, Marcus! I feel your weight, all those muscles pressing me down, but that little dick? Nothing.” She was relentless, her words sharp but playful, tearing into me as I thrust. “Is it even in? God, i feel my tampon stretches me more.!” I was rock hard, balls deep giving her every inch I had, her taunts only making it worse as I knew I had nothing more I could do to make her feel it. — she was laughing hard and hard the more I tried to make her feel my cock in her, she said enough I thought I would atleast feel some, dam your cock is so little so so so little.

She pushed me off, grinning. “Back to what you’re good at, big guy. Eat me out again.” I didn’t hesitate, diving back between her legs, my tongue working overtime as she kept up the barrage. “That tiny little cock, leaking already, huh? Bet it’s been dripping this whole time.” She wasn’t wrong—I could feel it, hard and desperate, untouched but throbbing. I licked and sucked, her moans mixing with her taunts, until she gripped my head, shuddering through a climax that left her breathless.

She sat up, eyeing my cock again, still hard, still leaking. “Look at that sad little thing,” she said, reaching out to tap it with one finger. That was all it took—I came hard, a pathetic spurt that made her laugh one last time. “God, Marcus, you’re perfect,” she said, her voice softer now but still teasing. “A giant mountain with the tiniest peak. Don’t change a thing.”

We collapsed on the bed, her head on my chest, both of us still buzzing from the whiskey and the weird, wild night. It was humiliating, sure, but it was also freeing—like we’d shared something raw and real. Lila’s laughter still echoed in my head, but so did her final words. Perfect. Maybe, in some twisted way, she was right.

 

[MAXXXX100]

Part 2

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I woke up the next morning in Lila’s hotel room, my head fuzzy from whiskey and the wild night before. My massive frame—six-foot-four, built like a tank from years of strongman training—sprawled across the bed, dwarfing the petite woman curled up beside me. Lila, with her sharp wit and sharper tongue, had already left an impression I wouldn’t forget. Her red dress was crumpled on the floor, a reminder of how we’d ended up here after a flirty, boozy encounter at the hotel bar. Last night, she’d discovered my secret—a rock-hard, uncut cock that barely hit three inches—and turned it into a game of relentless, playful humiliation that left me both mortified and weirdly turned on. I thought that was the peak of it. I was wrong.

Lila stirred, her eyes glinting with that same mischievous spark from the night before. “Morning, Mountain,” she said, her voice dripping with tease as she stretched, her curves catching the morning light. “Sleep well, or were you up all night thinking about that tiny little dick of yours?” I chuckled, trying to play it cool, but my face burned. She slid closer, her hand grazing my chest, then lower, stopping just short of my boxers. “Let’s see if it’s still as pathetic as I remember,” she said, tugging the fabric down before I could protest.

There it was, already hard from her proximity, my small cock standing stiff, foreskin peeking out like a sad little flag. Lila’s laugh was louder this time, unrestrained, echoing in the quiet room. “Oh, Marcus, it’s even worse in daylight! Look at this—it’s like a baby carrot trying to play tough!” She flicked it with one finger, and I groaned, the mix of shame and arousal hitting me like a truck. “I’ve seen clits bigger than this,” she said, her voice cruel but playful, her eyes locked on mine to gauge my reaction. “Go on, tell me again how tiny it is. I want to hear you say it.”

I swallowed, my voice rough. “It’s… really fucking small, Lila.” She clapped, delighted, her laughter cutting deeper. “Small? Marcus, it’s microscopic! Say it properly—tell me it’s the tiniest, most pathetic little dick you’ve ever known.” I shifted, my massive body feeling oddly vulnerable under her gaze. “It’s the tiniest, most pathetic dick I’ve got,” I mumbled, and she leaned in, cupping her ear. “Louder, big guy! Own that little nub!” I laughed despite myself, giving in. “Alright, it’s the smallest, most pathetic cock ever. Happy?” She grinned, wicked. “Very.”

She straddled my chest, her thighs pinning me down, and I could feel the heat of her against my skin. “You know,” she said, tracing a finger along my jaw, “I was thinking about last night, how I couldn’t even feel that little thing inside me. All those muscles, all that power, and then… this.” She reached back, pinching my cock between two fingers, barely touching it. “It’s like a joke, Marcus. A giant like you with a dick so small it’s practically invisible.” She giggled, giving it a light tug, and I groaned again, my body betraying how much her words were getting to me.

“Fuck me again,” she said, sliding back to guide me inside her. I tried, my hips moving under her, but her expression was pure mockery. “Is it in? I literally can’t tell. It’s like you’re poking me with a toothpick!” She rocked against me, exaggerating her boredom, yawning theatrically. “I feel your weight, all that muscle crushing me, but your cock? Nada. It’s like fucking a ghost down there.” Her words stung, each one sharper than the last, but my cock stayed rock hard, leaking pre-cum as she tore into me.

She pushed me off, rolling her eyes. “Useless. Back to your real talent, Mountain.” She spread her legs, pulling my head down. “Eat me out, since that little dicklet can’t do shit.” I dove in, my tongue working her clit with slow, deliberate strokes, desperate to please her. Her moans were mixed with taunts, her voice relentless. “God, your tongue’s worth a hundred of that pathetic little nub. It’s been leaking this whole time, hasn’t it? Bet it’s crying because it’s so useless.” I could feel it—my cock throbbing, untouched, dripping onto the sheets as she humiliated me.

Her hands gripped my hair, her hips bucking as she got closer. “Keep going, big guy. At least your mouth isn’t a disappointment. Unlike that tiny, sad excuse for a dick.” Her words were vicious now, each one like a whip, but they only made me work harder, my tongue circling faster until she arched, crying out, her orgasm shaking through her. She collapsed back, panting, then glanced down at my cock, still hard, still leaking.

“Look at that,” she said, her voice softer but no less cruel. “Still standing, huh? Like a little soldier who doesn’t know he’s lost the war.” She reached out, tapping it with one finger—light, dismissive—and that was it. I came, a small spurt that made her laugh so hard she nearly fell off the bed. “Oh, Marcus, you’re too much. A giant body, a giant heart, and the tiniest, most pitiful cock I’ve ever seen. You’re absolutely pathetic—and I love it.”

She curled up against me, her head on my chest, still chuckling. “Don’t ever change, Mountain. You’re perfect just like this.” I laughed, the humiliation still burning but somehow freeing, like we’d peeled back every layer and found something raw and real. Lila’s taunts echoed in my head, but so did her warmth, her strange affection. It was a night I’d never forget—and I had a feeling she wouldn’t let me.

 

[MAXXXX100]

Part 3

A Night at the Hotel Bar: Part 3 - The Stakes Get Higher​

The morning after our second wild night, I thought Lila and I had reached the peak of her merciless teasing. I’m Marcus, a six-foot-four, muscle-bound strongman—nicknamed “The Mountain”—and Lila, the fiery woman I met at a Vegas hotel bar, had already turned my world upside down with her relentless humiliation of my tiny, three-inch, uncut cock. But as I tried to slip out of her hotel room, still reeling from her cruel laughter and my own confusing arousal, she stopped me with a wicked grin. “Not so fast, big guy,” she said, twirling her phone between her fingers. “You’re taking me out tonight—someplace fancy, expensive, the works. Or I might just have to tell everyone at your little strongman expo about that pathetic little pimple you call a dick.”

My stomach dropped. Her tone was playful, but the glint in her eyes was pure menace. “You wouldn’t,” I said, but she just laughed, tapping her phone. “Oh, I would. I’ve got stories, Marcus, and I bet your gym buddies would love to hear about the Mountain’s tiny peak.” I knew she had me. So, I agreed—dinner at the swankiest restaurant in the hotel, my credit card already wincing at the thought.

That night, I met her in the lobby, dressed in a tailored suit that strained against my massive frame. Lila looked like trouble in a sleek black dress, her smirk promising more chaos. Dinner was a blur of overpriced wine, lobster, and her relentless teasing under the table—whispering things like, “Bet the waiter’s packing more than you,” loud enough to make me choke on my steak. Every time I tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, she’d drop another barb about my “useless little nub,” her eyes dancing with delight as I squirmed. By the time we stumbled back to her room, I was equal parts humiliated and turned on, my body betraying me as always.

Inside, Lila didn’t waste time. She pushed me onto the bed, her hands ripping at my shirt, buttons popping like gunfire. “Strip,” she commanded, and I did, my massive body exposed, my tiny cock already hard, barely peeking out with its bit of foreskin. She laughed, that sharp, cutting sound I was starting to crave. “God, it’s even sadder tonight,” she said, flicking it with a finger. “Like a little acorn trying to be a tree.” I groaned, my face burning, but she wasn’t done. She reached into her bag and pulled out a strap-on harness, complete with a nine-inch dildo—thick, black, and intimidating as hell.

“Who’s the big man now, Marcus?” she taunted, buckling it on, the massive dildo swaying as she strutted toward me. “This is what a real cock looks like. Not that pathetic little zit you’ve got.” She grabbed my shoulders, flipping me onto my stomach with surprising strength, my muscled frame helpless under her command. “Bend over, Mountain. Let’s see how you handle something with actual size.”

I hesitated, but her hand cracked against my ass, and I complied, my heart pounding. She lubed up the dildo—thank God for that—and pressed it against me. The first push was agony, a burning stretch that made me yell, my voice echoing in the room. “Scream all you want,” she said, her voice dripping with glee. “The louder you get, the more I love it.” She thrust deeper, and I gripped the sheets, pain and humiliation crashing over me like a wave. “Look at you,” she sneered, leaning over me. “All those muscles, and you’re whimpering over a real cock while that tiny little pimple of yours leaks all over the bed.”

She grabbed her phone, holding it up as she pounded into me. “Smile for the camera, big guy,” she said, recording every second. “Let’s capture the Mountain getting fucked while his sad little dicklet drips.” I groaned, my body shaking, the humiliation searing through me as the dildo stretched me to my limit. My cock—tiny, hard, leaking—was untouched, but every thrust and every taunt pushed me closer to the edge. “It’s like a little tear,” she laughed, zooming in on it. “A pathetic, dribbling tear of a cock.”

She pulled out, tossing the strap-on aside, and climbed onto the bed, straddling my face. “Enough of that,” she said, lowering herself onto my tongue. “Eat me out, Marcus. It’s the only thing you’re good for with that useless little nub.” I dove in, my tongue working her clit with desperate focus, her taste flooding my senses as she ground against me. Her taunts didn’t stop. “Look at it down there, still leaking, still so fucking small. It’s not even worth touching. A real man would fill me up, but you? You’re just a giant with a baby dick.”

Her words were ruthless, each one slicing deeper, and I could feel my cock throbbing, untouched, dribbling pre-cum onto my stomach. She laughed, her hips rocking faster. “God, it’s so pathetic it’s almost cute. Like a little toy that can’t do anything.” I licked harder, her moans mixing with her cruelty, until she gripped my head, shuddering through a climax that left her gasping. But she didn’t stop there. She kept riding my face, chasing another orgasm, her voice relentless. “You’re nothing, Marcus. A big, strong body with the tiniest, most worthless cock I’ve ever seen. It’s not even a cock—it’s a fucking embarrassment.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. Her words, her weight on my face, the sheer humiliation—it hit me like a freight train. To my horror, my tiny cock spasmed, cumming without a single touch, a weak spurt that made her scream with laughter. “Oh my God!” she howled, still perched on my face, her phone still recording. “You came just from me humiliating you? That little pimple couldn’t even wait! You’re so pathetic, Marcus, it’s perfect.”

She collapsed beside me, still giggling, her breath hot against my neck. “You’re my favorite kind of mess,” she said, her voice softer but still sharp. “A giant with a cock so small it’s practically invisible, cumming from pure shame. Don’t ever change.” I lay there, humiliated, spent, and strangely exhilarated, her laughter ringing in my ears. Lila had me in her grip, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to escape.

 

[tommy69]

Great start!