It was Friday morning when I got the first text. I had just logged into my work laptop and started sorting through my e-mail when my phone buzzed. I looked down, did not recognize the number, and read the simple “Hi” message. Like everyone else, I get a lot of spam text and thought this was no different. I was about to put down my phone when I saw the thought bubble start, stop, and back up again. I was unusually drawn to the screen, so I waited to see what would come next instead of deleting everything. The text was short and to the point.

It read simply, “I know your secret.”

The thought bubble started again but stopped, and there was nothing more. Convinced that the message was junk, I got back to work.

The next day, it was the same story. There was another anonymous message. This time, the message was “Hi again, ” followed by a simple message.

“I know your secret. This is Sara, by the way.”

I was dumbfounded when I saw it was signed “Sara.” Who in the hell was Sara? I couldn’t recall anyone I’d ever met named Sara, let alone a Sara who knew some big secret of mine. Who was she, and exactly what secret did she know? I finally eased my mind by dismissing both messages as random junk.

My jaw dropped when I read the next message.

“You know, your secret about your itsy, bitsy penis.”

In a panic, I immediately put down my phone. I whipped my head around to make sure no one was around. What in the hell was going on? Who was Sara, and how could she possibly know about my penis?

There was no way she could know. I mean, I’d spent the better part of my adult life trying to hide the fact that I had a tiny dick. I was extremely conscientious of my perceived inadequacy. So much so that I had gone beyond my way to limit my interaction with women. I lusted after women as much as the next guy, but whenever I sensed a relationship was heading toward something sexual, I inevitably broke it off. I was so terrified that if a woman saw my tiny little dick, she wouldn’t be able to control her laughter. Worse yet, I was convinced she would tell everyone she knew about my limitations as a man.

It wasn’t that the opportunities weren’t there. I was a relatively good-looking guy. I usually had good luck approaching and talking with women as well. The problem was that’s about as far as it went. I did have several casual sexual encounters, but those more or less ended with me either being extremely embarrassed or simply satisfying the woman orally without exposing my cock. Most of the time, the encounters were out of town, and I always gave the woman a fake name.

That’s why the messages from Sara were so puzzling. How could she possibly know about my tiny dick? Was she just guessing? She had to be. I mean, there weren’t even any men that had seen my tiny dick. I had long gone out of my way to avoid potentially embarrassing situations in the locker room. Yet here I was receiving anonymous from a woman named Sara who somehow knew about my tiny prick.

I quickly grew paranoid. With practically every woman I saw, I convinced myself that she knew my secret. I retreated into a web of fear and self-doubt. When I received the next one the next day, I was practically shaking.

“Don’t worry, I love tiny dicks. I think they’re sooooo cute.”

I stared at the text as a tiny bulge in my pants started to grow. Somehow, this anonymous woman had turned me on. I had no idea who she was or what she looked like, but with a few simple texts, this woman had given me a raging hard-on. I felt compelled to write back but had no idea what to say. She was in total control of the game.

“I bet you have the cutest little dick. I’d love to see it. Why don’t you send me a little picture?”

My cock about jumped out of my pants at the suggestion. The thought of me sending her a picture of my tiny dick was enough to keep me rock-hard for the rest of the day.

The messages kept coming over the next week or so. Every day was something new to stir my imagination and make my cock rock hard.

I was at my wit’s end by the time the next weekend rolled around. I could barely contain myself. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could be teased like this. I felt like I was about to burst when I saw another message. My mouth dropped open when I read it.

“Why don’t you meet me for drinks at the Hounds? That English Pub downtown. Eight o’clock. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to find me.”

For the rest of the day, I was lost somewhere, terrified and excited. I had no idea who this woman was. What if it was all some big joke at the expense of my tiny penis. I convinced myself nothing bad could happen. If the situation weren’t right, I would just walk out. It was as simple as that. No one would be the wiser, and hopefully, Sara would stop tormenting me, knowing I had no interest. If, on the other hand, it wasn’t some big joke and Sara was a beautiful woman, I had it made. It was the perfect set-up. I wouldn’t have to worry about being embarrassed by my tiny cock. After all, Sara already knew my secret and seemed intrigued by my inadequacy. Deep down, I knew better but believed I had nothing to lose.

I got there exactly at eight and the place was relatively empty.

I took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer.

I figured Sara had to know what I looked like and was sure she would approach me, but before I knew it, I had been sitting alone for over half an hour. The anticipation was killing me. After another fifteen minutes of waiting, I figured it was a big joke. I was about ready to leave when a woman at the end of the bar caught my eye.

She was standing by herself, casually sipping her drink. The way she carried herself was extremely sexy. Her wavy brunette hair fell lightly down her shoulders, and her lips were highlighted with dark red lipstick. She wore low-cut jeans and a short, tight-fitting black top showing her belly button and perfectly toned stomach. Her breasts were small, but she was so sexy it didn’t even matter. She was the type of woman who just oozed confidence. I was sure that without much effort on her part she could make me do anything she wanted. And I do mean anything.

I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. I kept glancing toward the end of the bar. I know she noticed I was watching from the way she smiled. You could tell she loved teasing me. After about ten minutes of torture, she finally moved toward me. I had no idea if this was Sara or someone else entirely, but I didn’t care at that point. I was covered in goosebumps by the time she reached my bar stool.

She smiled and flipped her hair a little as she sat beside me. Looking at the bartender, she ordered a cider and pulled out her phone, ignoring me. My phone buzzed again on the bar. I picked it up, and without hesitating, she chuckled, turned to me, put her hand on my thigh, and said, “You’re a lot easier than I thought. Before I have more fun with you, tell me now if you’re ready to be helplessly mine.”

I was stunned. After a moment, I squeaked out a “Yes.”

She squeezed her hand, and I was harder than ever. “It’s life-changing. Are you sure?” she said.

I nodded.

She smiled, leaned into me, and said, “It’s okay if you cum, baby.”

I immediately came. The dampness from my cum spread quickly, making my boxers cling to my leg. She giggled again, stood, cheerfully said, “I’ll see you around,” and walked toward the door, her hips and tight ass swaying seductively as she went.

 

To Be Continued…?

 

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