Over matched

The AI’s clinical verdict still glows on your screen: Nick – 9.5 to 9.9 inches long, 6.3 to 6.7 inches girth. Your cock surges harder than it has in months, straining against your boxers like it’s personally offended by the numbers. You shove them down, letting your own heavy meat spring free into the cool air of your bedroom. It slaps audibly against your lower abs thick, proud, and already leaking.

You grab the measuring tape you keep hidden in the nightstand drawer. Time to get scientific.

You stroke yourself slowly to full hardness first, savoring the way your shaft swells in your grip. The veins rise under your skin, pulsing with hot blood. Eight-point-three inches of girthy perfection stares back at you in the full-length mirror. You press the tape along the top—bone-pressed for accuracy. 8.4 inches. You repeat it, adjusting the angle. 8.5 inches on your best measurement. Your chest swells with masculine pride. That’s fucking huge. Most men would kill for this.

Now the girth. You wrap the tape around the thickest part of your mid-shaft. 6.0 inches. You squeeze a little firmer, forcing even more blood in. 6.15 inches. One more careful reading at the base where you’re thickest: 6.25 inches. Goddamn. You’re a monster in your own right. The head is broad and flared, a fat plum that’s split plenty of lips and made more than one girl whimper on the first thrust. You flex your cock, watching it bob heavily, and a thick bead of precum rolls down the underside.

You’re proud. So fucking proud.

But then your eyes flick back to the laptop. Nick’s frozen image—his obscene 9.7-inch behemoth stretching Erin’s fingers as she tries to wrap both hands around it. The AI’s volume estimate flashes in your mind. His cock isn’t just longer… it’s thicker. Denser. More overwhelming. You do the rough mental math again and feel a hot twist of disappointment in your gut even as your own dick throbs harder.

You hit play on the video.

Erin’s voice fills the room immediately—breathy, ****, turning into a broken moan as Nick feeds that massive cock into her. “Fuuuuck, baby… you’re so deep…” The camera angle catches the way her pussy lips stretch obscenely around his girth, the visible bulge traveling up her lower belly with every slow thrust. She’s soaking, dripping down his heavy balls, her thighs shaking.

You stroke yourself in time with his hips, your big 8.5-inch cock sliding through your fist. It feels incredible, velvety skin over steel hardness, but your mind keeps comparing. You imagine stepping up behind Erin right after Nick has opened her up. Your thick eight-and-a-half would still feel tight in that freshly-fucked, sloppy cunt… but you know she’d notice. She’d feel the difference. Nick reaches places you simply can’t. His girth would leave her gaping in a way your impressive but comparatively modest six-point-two-five never could.

“Fuck…” you groan, tightening your grip. Pride and envy twist together into something filthy and addictive. You’re still a stud. Still huge. You’ve made Tawny’s eyes roll back plenty of times. But watching Erin turn into an absolute cock-drunk whore for Nick’s behemoth makes your balls draw up tight with jealous heat.

You walk closer to the mirror, still stroking. Side by side in your mind: your proud, veiny eight-and-a-half versus Nick’s wrist-thick ten-inch destroyer. You angle your cock next to the paused image on screen, measuring them visually. Yours looks magnificent—fat, long, powerful. But Nick’s looks like a fucking club. The kind of cock that ruins girls for anyone else.

The disappointment burns deliciously. You should be enough. You are enough for most women. But Erin… Erin had taken that monster and begged for more. You picture her on all fours between the two of you. Nick’s massive cock stretching her throat while you slam into her soaked pussy from behind. She’d be moaning louder around his shaft, pushing back onto you, but her real ecstasy would come from the sheer overwhelming size of the younger stud.

You edge yourself cruelly, slowing your strokes every time you feel close. Precum pours from your slit now, slicking your entire shaft until it glistens. Your heavy balls swing as you thrust into your fist, imagining the sounds Erin would make if you fucked her right after Nick pulled out—how loose and sloppy she’d feel, how her walls would still flutter from the memory of being split wider and deeper than you can manage.

“Goddamn it… I’m huge,” you growl at your reflection, voice thick with lust and frustration. “Look at this fucking cock. Eight-and-a-half inches of thick meat. But that kid’s… that kid’s a fucking freak.”

The words only make you harder. You drop to your knees in front of the mirror, stroking faster now. You imagine Erin riding you, her perfect tits bouncing, telling you how much she loves your big dick… while her eyes keep flicking to Nick’s even bigger one waiting for its turn. The thought of competing with him, of trying to out-fuck him, of watching her cum harder on his longer, thicker shaft, pushes you right to the edge.

You stand up again, legs shaking, and aim your cock at the mirror. The fantasy crests: Nick pulling out of Erin’s wrecked pussy, that monstrous 9.8-inch cock shiny with her cream, and you sliding in right after. Feeling how much he’s stretched her. Hearing her whimper because even your impressive girth suddenly feels manageable after him. The humiliation and raw arousal blend until you can’t hold back.

You cum with a deep, guttural groan. Thick, powerful ropes of semen blast across the mirror—rope after rope painting your reflection’s chest and abs. Your 8.5-inch cock pulses hard in your fist, every spurt accompanied by a fresh flash of Nick’s behemoth stretching Erin wide open. Even in orgasm you’re comparing. Even while shooting what feels like the biggest load of your life, part of you wonders if Nick’s balls would produce even more.

You keep stroking through the sensitivity, milking every drop, eyes locked on the mess you made. Pride still burns in your chest—you’re big. You’re a bull. But the disappointment sits right beside it like a delicious ache. You want to message Erin. You want to show her exactly what you’re working with and then watch her take Nick’s monster right after. You want to hear her honest moans, feel her compare you both with her body.

Breathing hard, you clean the mirror with a shirt, but you don’t close the laptop. The video is still playing—Erin cumming again on Nick’s relentless thrusts, screaming like she’s never been fucked that deep before.

Your cock twitches, already starting to thicken again.