I first saw her in 12th grade. I was 18, new to town, and didn’t know anyone. It was the first day of school, and I needed to catch my bus for the first time.

My parents told me which intersection and gave me a bus number. When I got there, there was a group of teens, so I joined them. After a while, the second group of teens formed across the street. Great, I thought. It’s my first day, and I’m already confused about where to go.

Sure enough, a bus arrived and picked up everyone on my corner except me. I stood there, desperate to not look ridiculous, wondering if the other group were from my school. I was too nervous to walk over, too nervous to ask. Too nervous about making a bad first impression. Yet making one anyway by standing there all by myself.

Then I saw her. She was 5’4. Petite. A smile that would have stopped me in my tracks if I wasn’t already standing still. Shoulder-length brown hair, tied up in a ponytail.

In short, she was the textbook definition of the girl next door. Absolutely stunning, yet not trying to show off in any way. She wore simple jeans and a hoodie. She carried her backpack on both shoulders. She looked like she’d never experience a day of doubt or low confidence in her life.

I loved her instantly.

“Hi, are you waiting for the bus to go to St. Jude’s?”

I could see a hint of the shape of her small breasts under her sweater. They looked perfect.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s my first day.”

She smiled. I tried to smile back but only managed an awkward grimace.

“I figured! I’m Julia,” she said with her hand extended.

“I’m Tommy.” I shook her hand lightly, hoping she wouldn’t notice how sweaty my palms were.

“Our bus should be here soon. It stops over there.”

Julia walked me over to the other side and introduced me to the others. I couldn’t tell you any of their names, how many there were, or if any of the girls were pretty. In fact, I can’t remember anything else from that day other than Julia herself.

It was probably a long, lonely, and stressful day.

Much to my surprise and delight, we struck up a friendship.

Every day that I got to ride with Julia to school was a good day. Any day she didn’t take the bus was a bad day.

I should mention at this point that Julia was the first girl I fell in love with. Sure, I’d like other girls before. But nothing like this. To my teen brain, the gods had conspired to bring us together that day.

At the end of that first day, I walked off the bus and discovered Julia and I were walking the same way. In fact, she seemed to be walking me home.

It turned out that she lived across the street. She was my actual girl next door. Can you blame my hormone-addled mind for thinking this was fate?

I would later learn just how wrong I was.

* * *

My first clue should have been the fact that she already had a boyfriend. His name was Luke. I hated Luke. I hated him before I knew he was Julia’s man. He was just that cocky kind of guy with an imminently punchable face. (You know the type.)

It took me weeks to figure out that she was already spoken for. We were walking and riding to and from school, and this Luke hadn’t even come up in conversation for weeks. How important could he be?

Julia didn’t strike me as someone interested in the dumbest piece of meat you could find, yet here we were. My delightful, adorable, and brilliant girl-next-door was dating a beautiful moron.

Still, it was just a young romance. Those never last, so I figured I had a good chance.

We quickly became the very best of friends. We talked about everything. We talked late into the night on the phone. Sometimes we would sit by our front windows while talking on the phone to see each other across the street.

There weren’t enough hours in the day for her to also be talking to Luke, even half as much as she was talking to me. I figured it was only a matter of time before they broke up, and she would see that I was as perfect for her as she was for me.

* * *

One Friday night, Jules (as I’d come to call her) was having some people over for a small party. When I got there, I walked in on a conversation that I can still remember to this day.

Jules was talking to our other neighbor, Liette. Liette was cute. I probably would have found her hot if I wasn’t so head-over-heels for Julia.

“You can do that?” Jules asked her.

I remember the smile on Liette’s face. It was pride.

“I can take the whole thing.”

“You don’t gag?”

“Nope.”

“Is he small or something?”

Liette burst out laughing.

“Hardly. Even with two fists, his cock sticks out enough to add a third hand to it too.”

Jules jaw dropped. “I need to see it.”

Lisette laughed some more as she pulled out her phone. She showed Jules something on her screen.

“Fuck,” Jules said with a grin. “You’re such a bitch! He’s huge. And girthy. Oh my god. I hate you.”

They didn’t seem to have noticed I’d walked in yet, so I coughed a bit.

“Uh, hey guys,” I said. “How’s it going?”

Julia looked at me with her eyes popped open wide. “Oh, hey Thomas! You made it!”

She was the only person who ever called me Thomas. The only person I allowed to call me that. I don’t know why, but I got chills every time she would.

“What’s happening?”

“Liette was just showing me something cool,” Jules said.

Lisette looked over at me. “Hey, Tommy.” I waved back.

I sat down next to Jules on the couch. She was wearing these cute booty shorts and a tank top and somehow still looked perfectly innocent.

Fucking Hell, I loved this girl.

Anyway, the rest of that night was uneventful, but I kept thinking about the conversation I walked in on. Three hands? Lisette’s boyfriend’s dick was that big, and Jules liked it?

I certainly wasn’t THAT big. But, at the time, I figured dick size couldn’t be all that important to someone like Jules. And besides, it’s not like I was tiny, right? I just wasn’t some horse-hung freak like Liette’s dude.

Nothing to be worried about. Nope. Nothing at all.

* * *

A few months later, Jules and Luke broke up. I knew they would. This was my time to shine!

But I didn’t want to be a creep and make any moves too soon. She deserved to have some time to process her feelings and start dating again whenever she felt ready.

Instead, I did what I always did: I was there for her. I listened. We talked for hours and hours.

A couple of days later, my parents were out of town. I thought this would be a perfect time. I’d invite her and some other people over for a chill night, find the right time and let her know how I felt. I figured I’d be totally non-threatening about it. More confessional, letting her know I had no expectations about her reciprocating the feelings. The last thing I wanted to do was risking our friendship.

That was the plan.

There were probably about 8 of us in the house that night. Liette came over with her man, who I didn’t really know. But he was polite enough. We were all having a good time, having some drinks. I was building up my courage.

Then Jules plopped herself down on the couch and put her feet in Adam’s lap.

Who’s Adam? Great question. I was asking myself the same thing, in a way. Adam went to our school. I liked him well enough. Funny guy. Prone to pranks.

But Jules never talked about him. We talked every day, and she’d never mentioned him once. And now she had her feet in his lap.

Still, innocent enough. I figured I still had a shot, but I needed a little more liquid courage. I went and grabbed another beer from the fridge, came back, and was blown away by what I saw.

Jules was playing footsie with his cock over his shorts.

And his cock was huge. I’d never noticed before, but the visible penis line on Adam was insane.

As in, half-way down to his knees while limp.

I sat down and just stared as she slowly rubbed her toes along the length of his shaft. I saw as she rolled her foot over the head of his cock, then traced the full length back. All while chatting away as if nothing was happening.

I was crushed. I’d missed my chance. They dated for about a year.

* * *

Around this time, I realized it might have been unwise to keep waiting for her to become available. It started to dawn on me that perhaps I was in the dreaded “friend zone.” She didn’t see me as a viable sexual being. I was just Thomas: her best friend. I’d never been Thomas: her boyfriend.

Even though I felt nothing for anyone but her, I started talking to other girls, trying to see who might be interested and interesting. But nothing clicked. It was Jules or nothing for me.

In the summer of 2003, Jules told me that her family was moving away. Her dad had just gotten a new job, and it started in a month. If I’d ever had a chance, I’d missed it.

I cried the day she moved. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Completely inconsolable. That is until she called.

For that last year of school, we continued to talk on the phone every day. She was still my Jules. I was still her, Thomas.

She started seeing some guys out there. As per usual, though, she didn’t like to tell me about them. I started seeing some girls, although I didn’t develop any feelings for any of them.

Life was manageable. As long as I could at least talk to Jules, life was OK. I’d do anything for her, and all I wanted in return was to be the person she talked to.

* * *

Due to being so incredibly shy, the first girl I ever openly expressed attraction to was someone I met online. Her name was Gennifer. This was not a romance. These were pure 19-year-old hormones.

We’d chat about sex online, then call each other and talk some more. She asked me if I was circumcised. I said I wasn’t. She liked that. She asked me if I’d ever had a “snow job” before. I’d never had any kind of job. She explained that when you put snow or ice in your mouth before giving a man fellatio.

I wasn’t in love. But I was excited to meet up with her in person.

She invited me out to a party with her and her friends. We all had fun. They were all hypersexual. I didn’t know how to make a move, so I didn’t. Thankfully, Gen did.

She grabbed my hand while everyone was distracted and led me to another room, then laid down on a mattress and motioned for me to join her. I did but didn’t know what to do with my hands.

I laid down and faced the ceiling, unsure where even to look. She leaned over me and kissed me, and we started to make out. I’d like to think this part went well. I enjoyed it a lot, and she seemed to like it too.

Her hands started rubbing my chest. I rubbed her arms, her shoulders, her back. We continued to kiss. She grabbed my hand and pushed it to her left breast. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, so I simply squeezed it a little and massaged it. That seemed to go OK, too.

Finally, it happened. She slid her hand slowly down my chest. I realized I was about to have my first sexual experience. She slid her hand over my crotch and started to rub. I got hard very quickly. She continued to rub me over my pants.

And then, just as she seemed to find my tent and started to focus on it, she lost interest. She moved her hand away, then rolled away and sat up.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“No, of course not,” she said. “This was fun!”

This being my first experience, I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know that this was a big red flag that she absolutely was not having fun. And I certainly didn’t know that the problem was with what she felt while groping me.

We went back to the party, hung out for another half hour or so, and called it a night.

I… never heard from her again.

* * *

It’s 2003. I’m 19 years old—a virgin. And I’ve struck out several times. What was wrong with me?

I decided to depersonalize things a bit more. I clearly wasn’t ready for a real woman. I didn’t know what they wanted or what it was about me that wasn’t doing it for them.

Back then, you could still search for random women to chat with on Yahoo, MSN, ICQ. Unlike today, striking up friendships with strangers was the normal thing to do.

I found a girl my age to chat with. Talking with her was exciting. She wasn’t a “nice girl.” She wasn’t interested in my life or things that might have been important to me.

She wasn’t even interested in my name. I never learned hers.

What she was was openly horny.

At that age and time, I somehow didn’t know that women got horny. Never mind that I watched my dream girl fondle another man’s cock with her feet. Never mind that I walked in on her talking about a man so well hung that it would take three hands to grab it. I still believed that women needed to be persuaded into finally feeling aroused.

My nameless webcam girl, though, was horny. One day, she turned her webcam on, went to take a shower, then walked back completely naked. I thought she must have forgotten that I was watching, but that was just her way of getting my attention.

She had it in full.

When she sat down, now in a towel, she had a big smile on her face and told me it was my turn. I wasn’t going to say no.

I started by taking off my shirt, but she was only interested in seeing what I was packing. So I hurried the fuck up.

I stood before the camera, hooked my thumbs on either side of my underwear, and dropped my pants.

The only way to describe her reaction was stunned silence. Slowly, a smirk started to form.

“can you get it hard for me?” she typed.

I started to jerk off, making my best impression of sexy slowly. I was still soft, so I grabbed the base of my cock with my thumb and index finger, squeezed, and pulled it forward. A few times, I did that until I got hard enough to instead start at the tip and stroke down to the base.

She bit the corner of her lip as if to hold back a reaction.

“is… this ok?” I asked.

“oh yeah,” she said. “this is great. this is so hot.”

Something about the way she said it didn’t feel genuine. But: A beautiful naked woman was watching me jerk off!

I could have gone for hours, but Ms. Webcam announced that she had somewhere she needed to be.

About a week later, she appeared back online and wanted to chat. She was on camera but said her audio wasn’t working, so we’d have to still type to each other. This was strange because I could hear her just fine. And there was another girl in the room.

“K, this is the guy I was telling you about,” I heard her say.

“The guy with the tiny dick?”

“Yea, yea, it’s him. Just stay out of the camera. I’ll see if I can get him to show it again.”

Tiny dick? What the fuck was she talking about? Sure, I’m no James Dean. But outside of porn, who is?

I decided to go along with it, believing that her friend would correct her that I really wasn’t small at all.

“hey, I really liked seeing you naked the other day,” she wrote. “you’re super sexy.”

“thank you, so are you.” I was nervous and cautious and more than a little hurt, but I tried my best to act normal.

She looked off the screen. “Seriously, it’s like a thimble.” “I’ve got to see this. You have to get him to take it out.”

I took this as an opportunity to challenge her.

“is someone else there?”

“no, why?”

“It looked like you were talking to someone off-screen?”

I heard her friend laughing out loud.

“I was just talking to my cat, lol.”

“that makes sense,” I wrote. “so, what’s up?”

She smiled. She was super cute when she smiled.

“well, i’m hoping your dick is?”

“oh?”

I could hear her friend laughing. “You’re so subtle!” “Don’t make me laugh!”

“yea, can I see it again, maybe?”

I thought about it for a moment. Did I really want to show her? It was already hard, so I knew my answer. I just didn’t understand why I wanted to go through with it. She was really mean.

And yet, I couldn’t resist.

“sure, yea, of course. my lady asks, my lady gets.”

“He’s so fucking lame!” I heard her friend say. That should have been enough to stop me, to make me realize these women were not worth my time. But I couldn’t resist. Call it morbid curiosity, or call it a desperate need for any kind of attention. Maybe both.

I stood up and yanked down my pants and boxers in one go.

Suddenly they were both on screen, holding each other laughing. They looked like they might fall over.

“Holy fuck! You weren’t kidding!”

“I can’t believe he showed it again!”

Any pretense was gone. Still, I stood there with my dick out, still hard, as these two beautiful young ladies laughed to the point of tears.

I decided to sit down and message them.

“Who’s that? And why are you laughing at me?”

“Does he not know he has a micro dicklet?”

“He’s clueless. He still thinks he’s average!”

The friend looked right into the camera and flashed her pinky finger, then the camera shut off, and they blocked me on chat.

I sat down, confused by what had just happened. Why did they think my dick was small? Why were they such assholes about it? And why did I just cum in my lap?

* * *

More importantly, what did this mean about me? Did I really have a small dick?

For the first time, I opened up Google and searched for the words that forever changed my life: “average penis size.”

I clicked link after link, but every site said the same thing: The average penis was roughly 6″ long and 5″ round. Well, that seemed like a lot to me, but I’d never measured my own dick. And frankly, I didn’t know how big an inch really was.

I dug around my school bag and found a ruler. That ruler instantly told me I was an idiot because it was a 6″ ruler and was clearly much bigger than me.

Despite everything that transpired, I was still hard, so I place the ruler under the base of my dick.

Two and a quarter inches.

What. The. Fuck. Two inches and a quarter? How did I not notice this before?

Well, I might as well figure out my girth while I’m at it, I thought. I took a paper strip, wrapped it around my dick, and marked where the edge met. I unraveled the paper and measured it.

Three inches.

My dick was three inches” round and two and a quarter inches long HARD. Wow.

* * *

Later that day, I was talking to Jules. Talking to her was the highlight of my day, even if she saw someone new and even if we lived 8 hours apart and might never see each other in person again.

Almost immediately, she knew something was wrong.

“What’s wrong, Thomas?”

“Nothing, I’m ok. Why?”

“You’re not yourself.”

“Oh?”

“Did something happen?”

“I dunno.”

“You do know. You can talk to me about anything. I’d hope you’d know that by now.”

“I don’t think I can talk to you about this…”

Only two other times had I ever been nervous around Jules. The first was the day we met. The second time was I was trying (and failing) to muster up the nerve to tell her how I felt. And now a third as I tried to figure out how to tell my best friend in the whole world that I had a tiny penis and no woman could ever love me.

“That means this is something you can especially talk to me about. You know I’d never judge you, Tommy.”

Whenever Jules called me Tommy, I felt safe. I felt protected. It’s the name most people used for me, but she reserved it for times of reassurance. I knew then that I could talk to her.

“That’s true. I do need to talk about it. But, it’s kind of, sort of, absolutely, totally about a sex thing. Is that ok?”

I could feel her smiling through the phone. “Of course, it’s ok. What happened?”

I explained to her how I’d been webcamming with this girl, and we saw each other naked, and I thought everything was ok, but then things went off the rails today. “Well, at first, she got on and was acting horny, as usual.”

“Sure, ok. So far, so good.”

“But she wasn’t alone. She said she was, but she wasn’t. She thought her mic was off, and I could hear her talking to someone else.”

“Ohhh nooo.”

“Yeah, and then she said she wanted to see me naked again. But I can hear her talking with her friend. And they weren’t saying nice things.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She knew how to comfort me.

“I, um, I don’t know if I can admit what they were saying. But it was really hurtful.”

“Well, it’s your choice, of course, but if you don’t tell me, then I can’t help you. You know that, right?”

“Good point.” I took a deep breath. “She was telling her friend that I was the guy she’d been talking about, and her friend asked, “The guy with the tiny dick?”

Time stood still. I felt like my soul had left my body. Clichés? Yes. Yet, also true. The silence on the other end of the line was deafening.

“What happened next?” she asked it calmly, almost as if she was trying to make it seem like I didn’t just admit to having a small cock.

“Well, um, this is weird and fucked up, and I can’t explain why I did it, but when she asked to see my dick again, I stood up and showed her.”

“Even though you could hear her making fun of you?”

“Yeah…”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, I thought her friend would say something about how it’s not as small as she said it was. But she didn’t.”

“What did she do?”

“She, um, well, she came on camera, and they both laughed at me.”

“Were they laughing because you were naked?”

“Well, maybe that too. But they were laughing at my dick.”

“What did they say?”

“Her friend said I have, um, fuck. I don’t wanna say.”

“I think you should. It’ll take away some of its power. Plus, I’m curious.”

She was curious? “She called it a ‘micro dicklet’.”

“I see. What happened after that?”

“They closed the chat and blocked me.”

“So that must have hurt,” Jules said after a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” I stammered.

“Do you have a micro dicklet?”

I couldn’t believe she would ask me that. What the hell?

“Well, no, I mean… That’s a bit harsh, I think.”

“Good! Who cares what they think? I’m sure you have a perfect dick that any girl would be happy with.”

Did I mention that I loved this girl? “You’re… amazing. Thank you. That’s what I needed to hear.”

“Anything for my Thomas.”

“It’s just, well, I honestly didn’t know if I was small or not. I’d never worried about it before.”

“I’m sure you have a good dick.”

“I don’t know…”

“Well, we can figure it out together if you like.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever measured it?” I’d just measured it hours earlier, but something told me to keep that to myself. “No, I haven’t.”

“Well, I happen to know my way around a penis. I’ve known a few,” she joked. “Do you have a measuring tape?”

“Um, no, but I have a ruler…”

“Good! Now whip your dick out and get it hard. I’ll stay on the line while you do the…”

“I’m hard now.” I should have delayed saying that.

“Wow, ok, awesome. Excited boy! Now, place the ruler under your dick and measure the full length.”

Even though I had just measured it, I measured it again. Something about following Jules’s instructions was totally fucking sublime. I should have found this to be hellishly excruciating, but I was in heaven.

“Ok, um, do you want me to read you the number?”

“Yes, what’s your size, handsome?”

Moment of truth.

“Looks like I’m a…” I lost my nerve and decided on a white lie. “Six. It says six.” I left out the part about that being in centimeters, not inches.

“That’s great! Those bitches be crazy. Six inches is plenty. It’s not huge, but it’s a workable size for sure. You have nothing to worry about.”

Damn it. She said Six inches. I’d never before lied to Jules, and by her specifying inches, I had a decision to make. I could either come clean or forever accept that I had lied to her.

“Oh, you’re supposed to measure in inches?” I tried my best to sound innocent.

“Well yeah, of course. Why? Did you…” She paused. Then I heard a stifled giggle. “Did you mean six centimeters?”

“Um, yes. Sorry…”

“No, no, that’s ok! What’s that in inches, though? Inches are a bit bigger than centimeters, though. So is that, like… 5 inches?”

I was so nervous. “Jules, can I ask you something before answering that?”

“Of course, Tommy.”

“How many inches would you say is small?”

“Oh wow, fair question. I can see why you’d ask. That’s a bit of a tricky question, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I’ve been with a few guys…”

“Yea, I know. That’s why I trust that you know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, yea, I do, sort of. But the guys I’ve been with have all been quite large.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah, so like when you ask, ‘What is small?’ there’s a difference between was small on average and what is small for me personally.”

“Oh, well, that makes sense.” I already knew the answer to the next question, but I had to play dumb at this point. “What’s small on average?”

“Well, the average is about six inches.”

“And what would be small?”

“Anything less than six would be smaller than average, by definition, right?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess that’s true.”

I was ashamed, embarrassed, humiliated, and, yes, turned on. What was wrong with me? We were quiet for a moment. Then I asked the scary one.

“So, what would be small for you personally?”

“I’m so sorry, Tommy, but this might hurt. Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes, of course. I want to know everything about you,” I said with a chuckle.

“Ok, well, remember you asked to know. K?”

“I’ll remember.”

“For me, anything under eight inches is small.”

What the hell?

“I mean, I know eight inches is big for the average,” she continued. “But I’ve been fortunate. The guys I’ve been with have had wonderful, beautiful, huge cocks. I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but you asked.”

“I did ask.” I was stunned. Also, I was rock hard. The only thing stopping me from jerking off was my love and respect for Jules. “What’s the biggest you’ve had?”

“Oh, that was such a good time!” she bragged. “I didn’t have a measuring tape or anything, but it was like two beer cans stacked on top of each other. Length and girth.” She giggled a little. “He was a total rock star, wow. Getting chills just thinking about it.”

“I’m happy for you,” I said. It’s the kind of thing I’d said a million times before in earnest, but it rang a little hollow this time.

“Thank you! Now, let’s rip off the Band-Aid. How big is your dick in inches, mister?” She was goofy, the way we usually were with each other.

“Well, this is super awkward to admit, but it’s two inches and a quarter.”

There was a pause. A long, awkward pause.

“Holy fucking shit,” she finally said.

This was somehow both the worst and best day of my life. My emotions were everywhere. I wanted to cry. I wanted to fuck. I wanted to hide. I wanted to run naked through a crowd and be judged by all.

“That can’t be right, Thomas. There’s no way. You’re reading it wrong. My baby brother is bigger than that, and he’s barely out of diapers.”

“Well, maybe,” I sheepishly tried to accept the olive branch. “I’ve never measured it before today.”

“Would you, like, show it to me, maybe?”

Wait, what? Jules, the love of my life, my best friend, my gorgeous former girl-next-door, was asking to see my dick? Of course, I would.

“Of course, I would,” I replied a little too enthusiastically. “How do you want to do this?”

Reader, remember this was the early 2000s, and I was talking on a landline phone. Sexting took coordination back then.

“I think I still have you on MSN. It’s been a few months since I last logged in, though.” I could hear her typing on her computer. “Yes! There you are.”

A message popped up from Jules: “Show me your wiener!”

I laughed on the phone. “Real classy, Jules.”

“How classy do you want me to be? We’re talking about dicks.”

“This is true. So, you want, like, a picture? Or are we getting on a webcam?”

“I don’t have a webcam. Just send me a pic. I need to see it.”

I tried not to think about why she’d “need to see it.” I tried to pretend she was just as turned on by all of this as I was, that my best friend wasn’t appalled at my small cock.

“Ok, do you want it close up? Full body? Am I getting fully naked or just the dick?”

“Tommy, we’re not dating. You’re not trying to impress me. You simply satisfy my curiosity so that I can help you better. Right?”

Well, to be honest, I didn’t know how this would help her to help me. But I’d wanted to get naked with Jules since the day we met, and this might be the closest I would ever get.

I turned on my webcam and stood up. I dropped my pants. Took a screenshot. And sent it.

“Did you get it?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m looking at it now. But um, Tommy, I’ve got to ask…”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you take a picture of it hard? This picture isn’t doing you any favors. I’m just honest here, but your dick here looks like maybe half of a Vienna sausage, with far too much foreskin attached. I bet it looks adorable when it’s hard, though.”

I took her comments in. How do I tell that I’m already raging hard in the picture? “Ok, um, I appreciate the honesty. I really do.”

“Good! I’m just trying to help, babe. Now get it good and hard and take another picture for me. Do you need me to, like, say something sexy to get it worked up? Is it camera shy?”

“Jules…”

“Yes, Thomas?”

“I don’t know how to say this.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“That picture is of me, hard.”

“No… Noooo… No, no, no, no. Tommy that can’t be right. Are you fucking with me? Has this whole thing been a prank? Where did you find that ridiculous picture?”

“It’s not a prank.”

“Oh, wow. Um, I’m so sorry, Tommy. I don’t know what to say. I’ve never seen this before.”

“It’s ok.” It wasn’t. I was crushed.

“I mean, some of my friends have told me crazy stories about the little dicks they’ve run into. But I don’t think even them have ever come across this.”

“It’s fine…” It really wasn’t. I looked down and saw that my dick had somehow shrunk even more while still being hard.

“Well, no, it’s not. Look, I feel bad. I know you’ve always had a crush on me.”

“Wait, what? How long have you known?”

“Pretty much day one. But I knew I could never feel the same way about you.”

“Oh. Why, though? Like, can we talk about that?” I was so thrown off.

“Well, look, I mean… the men I go out with have huge cocks.”

“Yes, you said that. But you didn’t know my size until now. Right?”

“That’s true. I didn’t know how minuscule you’d be… I’m sorry, that’s an insensitive word. Um, I didn’t know how tiny? No, little? That doesn’t quite capture it. I’m sorry… I just didn’t know how, um, micro it would be.”

There it was again: Micro.

“But I like cocks that are so big that the men who have them can’t hide them. I can measure them up by the bulge in their pants.”

“Oh.” What else could I say?

“With you, I assumed you were average, but I never saw even a hint of a bulge. I guess I know why now.”

“So, you would never go out with me?”

“We could never work, even if I still lived across the street from you. I’m sorry, Tommy. I’m a size queen. I need something that stretches me out, and yours couldn’t even stretch a snug fit condom.”

This hurt. It hurt so bad. It turned me on, too, but right now, it hurt more. I suppose I’d always held out hope that somehow, someday, we might reconnect in person. I’d spent so many nights dreaming about our future together, getting married, raising kids. It wasn’t just about sex. I loved that woman with all of my heart. At that moment, I understood the expression “rip my heart out” because I would have preferred to die than accept that we could never be.

* * *

The next day, Jules called me up.

“Tommy, I’m sorry about yesterday. None of that came outright. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just so surprised by – never mind, I’m doing it again.”

“It’s fine, Jules. I’m glad you called, though. I hope we can keep being friends.”

“Woah, Thomas, back up. We were never going NOT to be friends. Are you crazy? You’re my best friend in the whole world. You know things about me that I’ve never told anyone.”

“This is true.”

“But listen, I feel bad. I don’t really know how to help you convince anyone that your dick size isn’t a problem because obviously, it’s a problem for me.”

“This isn’t helping??”

“Be patient! I was thinking. I’ve seen you naked now.”

“Yes, I know, I was there.”

“I think it’s your turn to see me naked, too. It’s the least I could do.”

“Wait, really?”

“Check your email.”

I ran to my computer, nearly falling down the stairs. I opened up my inbox. There was a fresh email from Jules.

“Is this for real, Jules? When I open this email, I’m going to see you naked?”

“It’s 100% real, Tommy. You’ll see a few other things too that I hope you might like.”

I opened the email and clicked on the first attachment. My jaw dropped. I looked down and realized I’d lost my pants at some point along the way and was already holding my dick.

There she was. Not naked, not in the first picture. But in her lily-white bra and panties. She had this knowing smirk on her face. I could live on that smirk alone. There were still four more attachments to go.

“Thomas, you still there?” I heard her voice asking faintly. I looked around for the phone and saw I’d dropped it on the carpet. I fumbled, trying to pick it up.

“Sorry, wow. I opened the first one. Jules, you are stunning.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she giggled. “Keep going.”

I opened the second picture. She was bottomless, wearing only a tank top. Her pussy was completely shaven, just as I’d always imagined it. She stood, leaning on a while. That same knowing smirk on her face, but this time her eyes were locked on the camera.

“I love you,” I blurted out.

“I know,” she replied. Whether she was aware that she’d quoted Han Solo, I do not know.

I opened the third picture. She was outside in a grass field, completely nude, walking towards the camera. Running her fingers along the tops of the grass. The sun shone through her hair. She looked like an angel.

“My god, you’re beautiful.”

“You talk like a gentleman, but I can hear you fapping away.”

“Oh my god, you’re right. I’m so sorry! You deserve better than the…”

“It’s fine! That’s why I sent them. That dicklet of yours deserves all the joy it can get.”

She was getting a little too comfortable taking jabs at my size, but on the other hand, this was Jules. And on the other hand, she sent me pictures of herself naked. It was a fair trade.

I opened the fourth picture. What I saw blew me away. I was silent.

“Ah, did you get to the one of Adrian and me?”

“I, um, I think so.”

“If it’s a picture of me staring at the camera while holding a dick in front of my face that’s bigger than my head, then yes, you found it.”

“Fucking hell, Jules. No wonder. It’s like we’re not even the same gender or even the same species.”

“I’m sorry, Tommy, but it’s true. You got the shit end of the stick.”

“You can take that inside you?”

“With great difficulty and pleasure.”

“Wow. Ok, opening the last picture.”

“Good, I took this one just for you.”

She wasn’t kidding. She wasn’t naked in the last picture. There wasn’t any dick in sight. Instead, it was a close up on here looking into the camera with fake sad puppy eyes. One hand was raised a curved, arguably limp, pink finger. With her other hand, she held her thumb and index finger close together beside the pinky.

The meaning was clear.

 

The End.

 

*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Just remember, even with the limited editing we do, it doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed.