SPH Stories: My Ex's Tiny Secret

Everybody has that one ex with a secret, and mine had the kind of secret that would have sent most girls running. We had been together for about two months before I found out, which tells you how good he was at hiding it, or how little I was paying attention, or maybe both. It happened on a lazy Saturday night at my place. We were in my bedroom, things were getting heated, clothes were coming off, and then there it was. Or rather, there it was not.

I stared for a second, and he went completely still, and I could see the panic flood his face, this look of pure dread like he was watching his whole relationship flash before his eyes. And I did what I always do when a man is terrified. I smiled. I told him to relax, that I had seen it, that there was no unseeing it, and that freaking out was only going to make it worse. He started apologizing, tripping over his words, telling me he had been meaning to tell me, that he understood if this changed things.

I put one finger on his lips and told him it did change things, just not the way he thought. Because here is the thing about me. I am a brat. And a man standing in my bedroom, naked and shaking, terrified that I am about to reject him over the size of his dick, is a man who has just handed me the keys to the entire kingdom. I was not going to dump him. I was going to have the time of my life.

I made him sit down on the edge of my bed, and I stood in front of him, and I told him we were going to play a game. The game was called honesty, and the rules were simple. He was going to answer every question I asked, completely truthfully, and every time I caught him minimizing or exaggerating, I was going to laugh, and he was not allowed to cover himself. He nodded, miserable and already half hard, which told me everything I needed to know about what this did to him.

I asked him when he first realized, and he told me, and I laughed. I asked him the worst reaction he had ever gotten, and he told me, and I laughed harder, and he groaned. I asked him what he thought when he looked at himself, and he whispered it, and I repeated it back to him in my bratty teasing voice, and he buried his face in his hands. I pulled his hands away and told him no hiding, that was the rule, and I kept going until he was squirming on my mattress, flushed from his chest to his ears, hard as a rock and hating how much he loved it.

Then I got the ruler. I had one in my desk drawer, a plain wooden school ruler, and I walked back into the bedroom holding it, and the look on his face was priceless, this horror mixed with this desperate arousal. I told him to lie back, and he did, and I knelt beside him, and I held that ruler up next to him, and I just started giggling, because the ruler barely had to do any work at all. He tried to laugh along, this nervous strangled sound, and I told him he did not get to laugh, laughing was my job, his job was to lie there and take it.

I teased him with the ruler for a while, tapping it against his thigh, pretending to measure, announcing my findings like a scientist, and he was shaking by the end of it, begging me to touch him, actually touch him, and I told him begging was the hottest thing he had ever done. I finally wrapped my hand around him, and my fingers overlapped easily, and I laughed right in his face, and he came about thirty seconds later, all over his own stomach, moaning my name like I had just given him the greatest gift of his life.

That became our thing after that, and of all my sph stories, this one is still my favorite to tell. The ruler lived in my nightstand from then on. Whenever I was feeling bratty, which was always, I would pull it out, and he would get this look, this resigned, thrilled look, and we would play. It was the hottest dynamic I had ever had with anyone, this perfect loop of him being embarrassed and me being delighted and both of us getting exactly what we wanted.

We broke up eventually, for completely unrelated reasons, the boring normal kind. But he texted me last week, out of nowhere, asking if I still had the ruler, asking if maybe we could play one more round for old times' sake. I left him on read. For now. Because some games are better when he has to wait to find out if he gets to play again, and I have always loved making him wait.