u/Sufficient-Golf651

Back in uni I had this crush named Céline. Long dark hair and the kind of body that made you dream about it. We’d been hanging out a bit, sometime even texting late, laughing at each other’s dumb jokes. I was 100% convinced we were flirting.

One day she hits me with: “Hey, free Saturday afternoon? I need to hit the shops, wanna come with?”

This was it. First date energy. Casual but intimate. Shopping together = couple stuff, right?

I spent the whole morning picking an outfit that said “cool, available, but not trying too hard,” jerked off twice so I wouldn’t pitch a tent the second she laughed, and showed up with that stupid hopeful grin.

We walked around for hours. She was looking for a new bag and a PlayStation controller (yes, really). Every time she asked my opinion on something I’d lean in a little closer, get a hit of her perfume, and start writing the whole future in my head.

Then, out of nowhere, she glances at her phone and goes, completely casually: “Oh, my boyfriend just got here. Wanna come grab a drink with us?”

I felt my soul leave my body through my asshole. But of course I said yes...

So there I am, sitting at a table outside a bar with Céline, her actual boyfriend, and some random mate of his. She’s introducing me as “a friend from uni.” The boyfriend is tall, relaxed, zero insecurity. He doesn’t even side-eye me. Meanwhile I’m sitting there sipping a beer and dying inside, watching her laugh at his jokes the exact same way she’d been laughing at mine twenty minutes earlier.

When we finally leave, I see what will become an unforgettable memory for me : she jumps on him and they start making out like they’re trying to eat each other’s faces. Tongues, hands in hair... I stood there frozen for a second like an absolute clown before forcing myself to walk away.

I obviously kept being her friend after that.

Last weekend we had really nice sex and were just chilling in bed afterwards, all relaxed. For some reason I decided it was the perfect moment to ask her what she thought about my size. I’ve always been pretty confident (I’m right around 14cm), never had complaints, and I used to think I was actually on the thicker side. I know SPH is a thing, but it never crossed my mind that it could apply to me.

She didn’t even hesitate. “It’s average. It’s fine.”

That answer hit me harder than I expected. I asked if average meant she’d been with bigger. She kind of sighed and said yeah, of course. She mentioned one ex from college who was longer than me, and another guy she’d hooked up with a few times who was both longer and noticeably thicker. She said it so casually, like we were talking about the weather.

I tried to play it cool but I could feel my stomach twisting. She noticed and just laughed softly. “Babe, it’s weird you’d assume you automatically had the biggest one. I’ve been with other people before you. I'm not going around pretending I have the biggest tits you’ve ever been with either.” Then she shrugged and added "But seriously, it's not a big deal. You feel good, I come, everything works. Can we drop it? This conversation is getting weird."

And just like that, she got up to get water, completely done with the topic. Left me staring at the ceiling replaying everything, trying to process the fact that my "good enough" dick is apparently middle of the pack for her. The same one I've been strutting around with for years thinking I was doing pretty damn well.

Since then I’ve been thinking a lot about her sexual history and how it’s messing with my head. Knowing she’s had bigger (and that she remembers them clearly enough to compare!) has turned into this weird mix of jealousy, insecurity, and arousal Part of me wishes I’d never asked, but another part keeps replaying it...

This happened to me a few years ago with my second girlfriend:

We had just finished having sex and were lying in bed, naked and cuddling. We started talking about our pasts. She was my second, but I was her sixth. After a while I got brave (or stupid) and asked how I compared to the others, both in performance and size.

She paused, then let out a little laugh like she was trying to soften the blow. At first she was sweet about the performance part. She said I was attentive and she liked when I went down on her. “Performance-wise you’re good, you always try hard and I like that…”

Then another pause. I pushed a little. She sighed and finally admitted it: “You’re the smallest I’ve been with.”

My stomach dropped. I asked for details. She hesitated again, then continued, still with that awkward little laugh:

“It's not a big deal... I don’t know the exact measurements, but yeah… the others were all noticeably bigger. One guy was honestly too big for me, it hurt sometimes. With you it’ never hurts.”

She saw my face and tried to soften it by stroking my chest, but she kept going: “It’s not a huge deal… you're the smallest, but I'm in your bed”

The humiliation hit me hard… and of course I started getting hard again right there in her hand. She noticed immediately and laughed for real this time.

“See? I'm in your bed, all yours, all to that small thing". We ended up fucking again.

After that, I avoided bringing up the subject again. I felt uncomfortable about being turned on by her comments. Today I regret it. She would probably have been open to exploring that fetish with me.