Midnight's Secret Dive

The summer heat clung to the air like a lover who wouldn't let go, even after midnight at the lake house. You'd tossed and turned in your bed, the sheets twisting around your legs, your mind buzzing with the kind of restlessness that only hits when you're on the cusp of something big—like college, freedom, all that shit. At 5'9, with your slim athletic build finally filling out into curves that made you feel both powerful and exposed, you were still getting used to it. Your big butt, soft and less firm than you'd like, swayed a little as you slipped out the back door, barefoot in a loose tank top and shorts. The woods smelled like pine and damp earth, and the full moon turned the path into a silver ribbon leading you deeper into the night.

You'd hiked this trail before, a couple of miles from the house to the family's secret swimming hole—a hidden basin carved into the rock, fed by a gentle waterfall. No one else knew about it, or so your parents always said, with that smug family-pride grin. The high rock overhanging the pool was your favorite part, a natural diving board that promised a thrill if you were brave enough. Tonight, the moon lit everything up like a goddamn spotlight, making the water shimmer as you approached. Your heart picked up, that shy virgin part of you whispering to turn back, but the emerging beauty in the mirror lately had you feeling bold. You needed this dip to clear your head.

Climbing the rock was easy, your muscles flexing from all those runs along the lake shore. You crouched at the edge, peering down into the pool, and froze. There was someone in the water—a guy, cutting through the surface with smooth, powerful strokes. He was tall, athletic, his brunette hair slicked back, and even from up here, he looked like he belonged on a magazine cover. Broad shoulders, lean torso rippling under the moonlight. Your breath caught. Who the fuck was he? This was supposed to be secret.

He swam toward the shallow end, standing up slowly as the water receded. Holy shit—he was naked. Completely, unapologetically skinny dipping. Your eyes widened, a flush creeping up your neck. "Oh my god," you whispered to yourself, pulse hammering. A naked boy, right here, in your spot. Just your luck on this restless night. You'd seen dicks in porn, felt the buzz of your vibrator against your clit, but this was real, live, right in front of you. Curiosity burned hotter than the July air, and you edged closer, sliding down the rock face for a better view, heart thumping like it might burst.

He turned slightly, and fuck, he was insanely beautiful up close. Chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, those dark eyes focused on nothing but the water. Your gaze dropped lower as he moved, and you bit your lip. Naked. All of him. He waded out a bit more, water dripping off his toned legs, and you couldn't look away. When he finally climbed onto the grassy bank with his back to you, your mouth went dry. His ass—perfect, firm, the kind of sculpted cheeks that made you want to reach out and grab. Muscles flexing as he stretched, oblivious to you hiding just behind a cluster of boulders.

You had to get closer. The thrill of it, the risk, sent a warm ache between your legs. You crept down to the water's edge, ducking behind a thick oak tree, its trunk rough against your shoulder. The moon painted him in stark relief, every inch of his body on display. He dove back in, swimming lazily toward your side of the pool. Gradually, he emerged again, water sluicing off his chest, his abs, lower... and then you saw it. His dick. Tiny. Like, really fucking small. Shriveled and soft, maybe two inches at most, nestled against his balls like it was hiding. You blinked, shock bubbling up, almost a laugh escaping your throat. What the hell? This gorgeous guy, built like a god, with equipment that looked like a little boy's?

It wasn't the cold water—July nights were balmy, the pool warm as bathwater. He was just... small. Really, really small. You pressed your thighs together, fascinated despite the surprise. The contrast hit you hard: his tall, handsome frame, that perfect ass, and this tiny secret swinging between his legs. He didn't seem to care, flopping down on the grass near the water, stretching out on his back, completely nude under the moon. Unaware of you watching, his hand idly drifted down, fingers brushing over his little cock, giving it a casual tug. It twitched slightly but stayed small, innocent almost.

You backed up a step, leaning against the tree, your own body heating up. Your shorts felt too tight suddenly, your pussy throbbing with a mix of curiosity and arousal. Who was this guy? Greg, you overheard him mutter once to himself, like he was naming the stars or some shit. You'd never seen anyone so beautiful yet so unexpectedly vulnerable. The idea of it turned you on more than you expected—his confidence despite the size, or maybe because of it. You slipped a hand into your shorts, fingers finding your slick folds. Fuck, you were wet already. Circling your clit slowly, you watched him lie there, his chest rising and falling, that tiny dick just... there, soft and unassuming.

Your mind raced with what-ifs. What if you got closer? What if you made him hard? Would it grow much? Just over four inches, you imagined, based on the porn you'd binged, but on him, it might look even cuter, more manageable. You'd wrap your hand around it, feel it pulse, stroke him until he groaned. Or drop to your knees, take that little head in your mouth, swirl your tongue while he threaded fingers through your hair. "God, yes," you breathed softly, biting your lip as your fingers dipped inside yourself, two sliding in easily. The contrast fueled you—his Adonis body bucking under your touch, that small cock filling your mouth just right, not overwhelming, perfect for a shy girl like you testing the waters.

He shifted on the grass, hand returning to his dick, playing with it absentmindedly. It stiffened a bit, peeking out longer but still modest, the head flushing pink. You pumped your fingers faster, thumb on your clit, imagining riding him. Your big, soft ass bouncing as you lowered onto that tiny dick, feeling it stretch you just enough, hitting spots your vibrator never could because it'd be him—beautiful, real, grunting your name. "Emily," he'd gasp, hands gripping your hips. The fantasy built, your breaths coming short, pussy clenching around your fingers. You pictured him cumming inside you, a hot spurt from that little cock, filling you up in a way that felt intimate, not intimidating.

Waves of pleasure crested, and you came quietly, biting the inside of your cheek to stifle a moan, your body shuddering against the tree. Juices slicked your thighs, the night air cooling them as you panted, eyes locked on him. He looked so relaxed, so unaware, his tiny erection softening again as he sighed contentedly.

After a while, he stirred, sitting up and glancing around the empty clearing. No sign he'd noticed you. He gathered his clothes from a pile nearby—jeans, shirt, boxers—draping them over his arm but not bothering to dress. Just stood there, nude and glorious, that perfect ass flexing as he turned toward the path. With a final look at the water, he disappeared into the moonlit woods, his small dick swaying with each step.

You stayed hidden, heart still racing, a satisfied grin tugging at your lips. Something told you he'd be back tomorrow night. And this time, maybe you wouldn't just watch. The lake house felt a little less lonely already, your virginity itching for its first real adventure.