He Lied About His Dick Size So I Pegged Him Instead

Okay I have to tell you guys about this because it is honestly one of the funniest and hottest nights I have ever had, and it did not go even a little bit the way I planned. So I matched with this guy on a dating app, right, and he was cute in that clean-cut way, great smile, good job, all that. We started talking and the flirting got filthy fast, like within an hour we were trading the dirtiest messages I have sent in months. And this man would not shut up about his dick. I am not exaggerating. He kept telling me how girls always freak out when they see it, how I was going to need both hands, how he measured seven and a half inches and it was thick too. Seven and a half. He said it like four separate times. I was so worked up by the time he asked to come over that I was already wet just thinking about it, because I love a man who talks a big game, I love the confidence, I love imagining what I am about to get.

He showed up at my place with wine and that cocky grin, and we barely made it through one glass before we were all over each other on my couch. Kissing, hands everywhere, him telling me how hot I was, me telling him I could not wait to see if he was telling the truth. We stumbled back to my bedroom and I was so excited I could barely breathe, peeling his clothes off, kissing down his chest, running my hands over him. I got to his boxers and I was practically drooling, I pushed them down, and out popped the tiniest little dick I have seen on a grown man in my entire life. Like three and a half inches, maybe, and thin. I stared at it for a second because my brain literally could not process what I was seeing, and then I just started laughing. I could not help it. I giggled, and then I snorted, and then I was full-on laughing while this poor man stood there with his sad little dick out.

I looked up at him, still laughing, and told him he had promised me seven and a half and asked what the hell this was supposed to be. He turned bright red, like ears-burning red, and started stammering about being a grower and the lighting and being nervous, and I just kept giggling because the excuses were somehow even funnier than the dick. But here is the thing about me, I am bratty, not cruel, and I could see he was genuinely mortified, and that is where it gets hot for me, that embarrassment, that power. So I decided I was going to take control of this night and make it unforgettable, just not the way he planned.

I told him to lay back and stop talking, and I climbed on top of him and started kissing him again, and I took that little dick in my hand and started stroking it. It was honestly kind of cute once I got over the shock, and he was so hard, throbbing in my hand, and I could tell nobody had ever just taken charge of him like this. I kissed down his body and took him in my mouth, and I could fit the whole thing easily, and I played with his balls with my tongue, licking and sucking, and he was moaning so loud, his hands in my hair. I kept teasing him about it the whole time, telling him this was the cutest little dick I had ever seen, asking him where the other four inches went, and every time I said something he would groan and get even harder, which told me everything I needed to know about what he was into.

I tried to ride him, I really did, I climbed on top and tried to slide him inside me, but he kept slipping out. Every time I got him in he would pop right back out, and after the third time I just burst out laughing again and told him this was hopeless. He looked so defeated, and I felt that bratty dominant switch flip in my brain, and I told him I had an idea that was going to make us both very happy. I went to my nightstand and pulled out my strap-on, this gorgeous thick one I had bought ages ago and never had the right moment to use, and his eyes went huge.

I strapped it on in front of him, slow, letting him watch, and I told him that since his dick was too small for my pussy, I was going to fuck him instead. He was breathing so hard, and he just nodded, and I could see he wanted it so badly he could barely speak. I pushed him onto his stomach and climbed between his legs, and I teased him first, running the head of the dildo around, making him beg, making him say please. When I finally pushed inside him he cried out, and I started slow, letting him adjust, and then I found my rhythm and I fucked him deep and steady, holding his hips, telling him what a good boy he was taking it. He was moaning into my pillow, his little dick leaking all over my sheets untouched, and I have never felt more powerful in my life, towering over this man who had talked such a big game, reducing him to a whimpering mess.

I rode him like that until he was shaking, and I kept up the teasing the whole time, telling him this was what seven and a half inches actually felt like, asking him if he was going to lie to the next girl too. He came without anyone even touching his dick, just from getting fucked, pulsing and moaning, and I kept going a little longer just to make him squirm, because I am a brat and I could. When I finally pulled out and unstrapped, he just laid there staring at the ceiling like his whole world had been rearranged.

He texted me the next day asking when he could see me again, and I told him only if he promised never to lie about his size to anyone ever again. He said he would bring a ruler next time to prove he had learned his lesson. I laughed for like ten minutes. You wish you had been there to see his face when I pulled out the strap-on.