After hearing a few people tease him about his size, I (F) decided to find out for myself—and I definitely don’t regret it.

It was one of those parties where everything feels a little too loud—music, laughter, drinks flowing, people showing off. I wasn’t expecting anything out of the ordinary, but by the middle of the night, something happened that’s stuck with me ever since.

There was this guy—quiet, kind of awkward, but clearly trying to enjoy himself. I’d seen him around before. At first, things were normal. But then a group of girls, including one I knew fairly well, started making jokes. Harmless at first, then sharper… meaner. Their boyfriends joined in, and before long, they were all laughing at this one guy—mocking him for supposedly having a small dick.

What made it worse? I found out later that he had actually lost his virginity to one of those girls. And now here they were, humiliating him in front of a room full of people.

Eventually, he slipped out, trying to act like it didn’t bother him. But it was obvious it did. I followed him, heart pounding—partly because I was angry for him, partly because I didn’t want him to leave thinking no one saw how messed up that was. I caught up to him outside and told him, straight up, that I was furious about how he was treated. I asked if he could give me a ride home—he looked surprised, but agreed.

The car ride was quiet at first, but not uncomfortable. I could tell he was still shaken. When we pulled up to my place, I turned to him and said softly, “You can come in… if you want to.” He hesitated. I don’t think he expected kindness from anyone that night.

Once inside, I looked him in the eye and said the real reason I asked him to drive me home—“Because I wanted to sleep with you.”

He stared at me, blinking like I’d just spoken a different language. I didn’t try to convince him. I just undressed, slow and deliberate, and told him he could either follow me to my room or leave. No pressure.

He followed.

We kissed. Touched. I wanted him to feel every bit of attention, affection, and control that had been stripped from him earlier. When I got his pants off, I made sure to show him I meant every word. I gave him my full focus. I asked what he liked—he let me choose—so I got on top and rode him until he finished.

Afterward, I didn’t stop. I went down on him again, not expecting anything in return. He didn’t cum that second time, but the way he looked at me—grateful, stunned—was everything.

The next day? We had sex five or six more times. No shame. No pressure. Just a connection that, for a night, reminded us both we deserved to feel wanted.

Months later, I ran into him again. He told me he had a girlfriend now. He smiled and thanked me—not just for the sex, but for the confidence. For making him feel seen.

It meant more than I expected. And when I found this sub, I thought… maybe someone out there needs to hear this. Kindness—real, unexpected kindness—can stick with someone forever.