It was a warm summer night, the kind where the party's bass thumped through the open windows of the house, spilling laughter and clinking bottles into the backyard. Me and my best friend, Andreas, had stepped out for a quick break, both a little buzzed from the cheap beer. The line for the bathroom inside was too long, so we wandered over to a thick bush at the edge of the yard, away from the crowd.

We unzipped and aimed at the leaves, the sound of our streams hitting the ground mixing with the distant music. I couldn't help but glance over—curiosity, or maybe something else. There it was, Andreas's cock, soft and hanging heavy between his legs. Even flaccid, it was massive: at least three hand widths long, thick like a beer can, swaying a bit as he pissed. My own peepee barely poked out, a stubby little dicklet that strained to do its job, with my little balls pulled up tight like they were hiding in shame.

I felt that familiar twist in my gut—jealousy, sharp and hot. Why did he get that monster while I was stuck with this pathetic thing? Even when I got hard later that night thinking about it, my erection wouldn't come close to matching his soft length and oh my god the thickness. How huge must that thing be when hard?
He finished up, shook it off with a casual flick that made it flop impressively, and zipped back up, clueless to my staring.

But as we walked back to the party, the envy shifted into something else. My heart pounded, and I realized I was getting aroused just replaying the sight in my head. God, I wanted to drop to my knees right there, wrap my hands around that fat cock, and suck it until it filled my mouth. The thought consumed me, turning my secret shame into a burning desire.