That time my date bailed and left me with my dick out

The first date had gone well, just as the mutual friend that had paired us up had predicted. We had dinner at a taco joint, went for an evening walk through the neighborhood, even got ice cream from a local shop. It was so stereotypically cheesy, but it was nice and comfortable and we were still hitting it off. As we stopped at a corner, she put a hand on my shoulder and asked "Your apartment is near here, right?" She knew it was. We both lived in the vicinity and had chosen the restaurant because it was close.

I nodded and pointed ahead, "Yeah, it's two blocks that way."

She cracked a bit of a smile, "I want you to take me there."

I played coy, "My place is a mess right now. It's in no state for guests."

"Is your bed clean?" she grabbed my hand and led me across the street, I followed happily but did my best to keep my spirits from overflowing. She was smart, independent, a lot of fun, and sexy as hell — just a great combination of traits that added up into an incredible woman. And she wanted to fuck. Hell yes! It was all I could do to keep from sporting a huge bulge down my pants leg — I'd tried to dress modestly for the date, wearing jeans that didn't show too much, but a rock-hard boner would've been incredibly obvious.

In no time at all we were at the apartment door. I managed not to fumble the key into the building, we made our way up the stairs giggling at some silly joke, and then got into the apartment. The moment the door closed behind us her bubbly attitude switched to sultry. We didn't even make it more than five feet into the room before we were embracing each other — her arms wrapped around my head and mine around her waist as we drew into a deep kiss.

She then pushed me back and pulled off her top, a light and breezy blouse that obscured her fit body. She was a track athlete at the college we had both attended, and it showed in her toned stomach and arms. I could only imagine what the rest of her looked like — her black leggings had left little to the imagination about what should be a nice, tight butt, and the impressive cleavage created by her bra had fixed my gaze.

I had started unbuttoning my shirt, a slim flannel, but she was in no mood to wait — she grabbed the bottom of my shirt and inverted it over my head. I was in decent shape, slim but not muscly, nothing to be ashamed of but not a build I was prone to showing off. Besides, the real show was in my pants and now raging hard down against my thigh. Perhaps the growing bulge wasn't that visible in the dim lighting, but I didn't really expect what happened next.

As I worked to get the shirt free over my head, she dropped to her knees in front of me, undid my belt buckle, opened the front of my pants, and hooked her fingers into the top of my underwear. I got the shirt off in time to see her smiling, and I eagerly anticipated the reaction that comes next.

My penis is very large, both in length and thickness. Reactions from my partners have varied, from the enthusiastic "fuck yes!" to a dreading "oh fuck", though in general the average is somewhere around "curious but apprehensive". I've learned how to navigate these reactions, assuring the women concerned about taking this massive of a dick that they are in control here, that I won't do anything they're not comfortable with, that we can stop at any time, and that I know what I'm doing and won't just ram it in. It's usually a good enough talk that we can move on with it, albeit cautiously.

She yanked down on my pants and underwear and my boner sprung free, waving around right in front of her face. She slowly shifted back from it, quietly glanced up at me, and then back to the engorged monster cock in front of her. Her eyes were wide and her skin was flushed. It felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, before she pursed her lips, lightly shook her head, and then said, "I'm sorry, but no. You're not putting that thing inside me."

A punch to the gut. There are many things you can call a penis, but to have it described as "that thing"? That hurt. I was still searching for words to recover the opportunity as she quickly stood up, grabbed her top and her purse, and slipped on the blouse while leaving through the door without saying another word. Meanwhile, I stood there dumbfounded, with my pants around my ankle and my erection throbbing as if it were still getting action tonight.

I know well enough not to immediately pursue a woman that's bolted like that; it would only make matters worse. And I get it — it's wasn't the first or last time that I was rejected because of my size, and I don't think I'd want to be fucked by this much dick either if I were in their position. It's totally fair to not want to play ball.

So I hoisted my pants back up, stuffed my boner back down the leg, and gave it a few hours before texting her "Do you want to talk about what just happened?" I kept the messaging app open, desperate for a chance to salvage what I had thought had been a promising relationship. Yeah, we didn't get to have sex that night, but also it felt like we had really hit things off and could be great friends even if we weren't going to fuck. I didn't even get a "…" of her typing a reply and second-guessing it. Radio silence.

The next day I was getting lunch with the mutual friend that had set us up and she opened with, "What a bummer. I thought you two would be great together!"

I asked her, "What'd she say?" I wasn't sure what to expect, but was bracing myself for word that I had a deformed dick or something like that, given how she'd reacted the night prior.

"Just that you didn't really hit it off." She shrugged, "I guess sometimes it goes like that."

Well, at least she hadn't deemed my penis to be a disfigurement, so there's that. It's been over a decade since that night and the memory still stings. I know a massive cock isn't for everyone and that's okay, but the whole episode really could've been handled better.