The Worst
I was aware I had a small cock, made so by various really humiliating experiences. Everything else about me was fine. I was popular, I was athletic which I became even more driven at, luring professional scouts to my college games with wide accepatance as a hard worker and a savvy and capable ballplayer. My grades stayed high, I had lots of friends, but I began avoiding women. My shame over my small cock was a fact, something I had been adapting to in the only way I knew: avoiding women. What hurt most was the fact that I was, literally, asked out. In fact, some gals promised a “ride”, and more. I was altogether desireable, yet, I had nothing to give them……literally. I lived a plagued life, wondering how the hell i was going to make out. I was discouraged and extremely close to being depressed. I began drinking. What at first was a couple of wild nights out with mates, became an almost nightly affair, beer drinking, some actual binging, throwing up later, then struggling to practice or the ballpark. I was heading nowhere fast.
Anne and I met in a Sociology class. She was a Sociololgy major and I was in Psych, and we used to compare notes on our observations on human events, for example whether they were caused by individual traits or by society itself. In spite of myself, I began finding myself very attracted to her. She was absolutely gorgeous, a real “looker”, with a nice set of perky tits and a beautifully shaped butt. A figure, in short, to die for. One day she mentioned she would love to share an evening with me, sometime. I had never asked her out. I said I was busy nights any more, with baseball practice. She would not take that for an answer, however, saying she knew damn well what I was up to. That I had been drinking like one of those mad frat boys. She told me it scared her. She knew all about it, one of my mates had a sister who was a close friend of hers. My mysterious ways had been very discussed.
“I can’t, Anne. Much as I would love to, I just can’t. There are other and very good reasons for it, which I am not able to talk about.”
Anne looked at me long and hard. “You are the most attractive god damned guy I know, dammit. I would die to spend time with you. I turn dates down to be with you as it is, you silly guy. Treat me like a good looking woman, I will be your very best friend, I promise, Bill.”
I began crying. I could not help it, it was simply too much emotion, she honestly wanted me, I guess. I cried and I spilled out the entire story. It was a picture of shame, mine and my penis. I was in tears over my situation, telling her I could never satisfy any woman because I almost was without one.
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