Chapter 3 You Have A Tiny Dick 1

I stood there in our bedroom, the air thick with tension and the scent of my cigarette smoke. The walls were bathed in a deep purple neon light, casting everything in a surreal glow that made this argument feel even more out of this world. I took another drag from my cigarette, the smoke curling into the light like some twisted art piece. "You never fucking satisfy me!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the purple-lit walls. My boyfriend, Mark, was standing across from me, his face red with anger or embarrassment, I couldn't tell which. "What the fuck are you talking about, Sofia?" Mark shot back, his voice rising to match mine. I flicked the ash into a nearby ashtray, the sound sharp against the backdrop of our raised voices. "I'm talking about how you can't even make me cum, Mark. Your dick is so small, you might as well be using your fucking finger!" The room was silent for a split second before he responded, "You think I don't know how to fuck you right? Maybe you're just too damn loose." I laughed bitterly, the smoke escaping my lips in a harsh cloud. "Loose? Or maybe you're just too damn tiny to reach where it counts. I might as well be fucking a pencil!" His eyes narrowed, the neon light reflecting off them, making them look like they were glowing with rage. "You're such a bitch, Sofia. Maybe if you weren't so damn frigid, it wouldn't be such a problem." I stepped closer, my heel clicking on the wooden floor, the sound amplified in the charged atmosphere. "Frigid? I'm not fucking frigid. You just don't know how to use what little you've got. No wonder I'm never satisfied." He ran his hand through his hair, frustration evident. "So what? You want me to get some fucking magic wand or something?" "No, Mark," I hissed, the cigarette in my hand shaking slightly from my own anger. "I want you to fuck me like you mean it. But with that tiny excuse for a cock, I doubt you could even if you tried. Maybe you should just watch while I use my vibrator. At least it can get the job done." The argument was getting nowhere, the purple light making everything seem like a bizarre, heated dream. I could see the hurt in his eyes, mixed with anger, but I was too far gone in my own frustration to care. "Fuck you, Sofia," he spat out, turning away from me, his silhouette stark against the neon backdrop. "Fuck me? You wish you could," I retorted, throwing my cigarette stub into the ashtray with such force that it clinked loudly. "But let's be real, you can't. Maybe it's time you learned how to, or I'll find someone who can." The room was silent then, the only sound being our heavy breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. The neon light flickered slightly, as if even the room was tired of this endless battle. The neon light flickered again, casting moving shadows across Mark's face, making him look almost demonic in his anger. "You know what, Sofia? Maybe you should go fuck someone else then! See if any other guy can handle your bullshit," he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm and hurt. I scoffed, the smoke from my newly lit cigarette making a thin veil between us. "Oh, I bet they'd handle me just fine. At least they wouldn't leave me high and dry like you do. I'd probably feel something for once!" He laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that made my skin crawl. "High and dry? Maybe if you weren't so damn cold, you'd actually feel something. Maybe I should start calling you 'The Ice Queen' because that's all I get from you." I stepped closer, the heat from my cigarette almost touching his skin, the purple glow highlighting the fury in my eyes. "Cold? You call me cold? I'm not the one with the equipment of a fucking teenager. No wonder I'm left unsatisfied; you can't even get it up properly!" Mark's face contorted with anger, his hands balling into fists. "At least I don't need a fucking instruction manual to get off. Maybe if you weren't such a high-maintenance bitch, we wouldn't be having this problem!" "High-maintenance?!" I screamed, the cigarette trembling in my fingers. "I'm high-maintenance because I want to actually enjoy sex? Maybe you should stop being such a pathetic, limp-dicked excuse for a man!" The room felt like it was shrinking, the purple light adding to the claustrophobic rage between us. "You know what, Sofia? Maybe I should just leave. Find someone who actually appreciates what I have to offer," he threatened, his voice shaking with both anger and pain. "Leave then!" I shot back, my voice cracking under the weight of our shared venom. "But don't expect me to sit here and pretend you're anything more than a disappointment in bed. I've had more pleasure from my own fucking hand!" He took a step back, the neon light casting deep shadows under his eyes, making him look haunted. "Fuck you, Sofia. You're such a cruel bitch." "And you're a fucking joke with that tiny prick of yours," I spat, the cigarette ash falling to the floor, forgotten in the heat of our spat. "Go ahead, walk out. But remember, it's not just me you're leaving; it's your chance at ever feeling like a man in bed." The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound the soft hum of the neon light. We stared at each other, the air between us thick with unsaid insults and years of built-up resentment.