Coming to Terms with My Truth: The Reality of My Size and My Role

 I’ve always known I was on the smaller side, but for a long time, I still believed I was somewhat average in length. I never thought of myself as big, but I also didn’t think I was exceptionally small. I assumed I was just within the normal range—until my previous wife made it clear that I wasn’t when I became her cuckold.

That moment changed everything. It was the first time I had to truly confront my size, not just in a vague, abstract way, but in a stark, undeniable comparison to real men. When I became a cuckold, there was no avoiding it anymore—she wasn’t just with other men, she was with men who were bigger, better, and more satisfying than I could ever be.

Still, even with that reality sinking in, I never once thought to actually check where I fell on the scale. I just accepted that I was small, but not too small—not micro.

Until today.

I decided to look up the numbers, and what I found stopped me in my tracks.

The average erect penis length is 5.1 inches. The average erect girth is 4.59 inches. My length? Less than 4 inches. My girth? 3.93 inches in circumference.

Suddenly, I wasn’t just small—I was so far below average that I barely missed the medical definition of a micropenis.

To put this into perspective:

• I am over an inch below the smallest end of “normal.”

• My girth is closer to the micropenis range than to the average.

• My size is nowhere near what is considered sexually satisfying for women.

I felt my stomach drop as I stared at these numbers. I ran them through my mind over and over, recalculating, rechecking, searching for any possible mistake—any hope that I had misread something, that I wasn’t as small as this was telling me. But there wasn’t one. The truth was right in front of me, undeniable and absolute. This realization is both freeing and terrifying. For so long, I believed I had some level of control, that maybe I could still ‘perform’ if given the chance. But now, I see how futile that was. This is my truth. I am not struggling against it anymore—I am surrendering to it. Because I was never meant to be anything else.

And then, as if my brain had been waiting for the truth to fully hit, I remembered something my girlfriend in the past once said to me:

"I don’t care how long it takes you to orgasm while fucking me as long as you pleasure me orally either before or after."

At the time, I knew what she meant—she wasn’t with me for my penis. But I never realized just how deep that truth ran.

She was never cruel. She never outright told me my little penis was inadequate. She never said the words “You’re too small to satisfy me”—but she didn’t have to.

Her actions, her expectations, her casual dismissal of my penetration said it all.

• She never relied on my cock for pleasure.

• She expected oral because she knew I couldn’t satisfy her otherwise.

• She saw my size as a limitation—something that made me unworthy of being a real sexual partner.

She even joked about measuring my penis with a tape measure—something that I now understand as her subtle way of acknowledging just how insignificant I was in that department.

And then there was the Magnum condom wrapper I found in her bathroom trash after we had broken up. That moment burned itself into my brain, but back then, I hadn’t fully understood why it hit so hard.

Now I do.

That wrapper was more than just a discarded piece of trash—it was proof of what real men bring to the bedroom. It was a silent reminder that while I could try, beg, and hope, I would never come close to what they offer. Those men weren’t thinking about whether they could satisfy her—they knew they would. Their thick, powerful cocks filled her in ways my micro never could, leaving her truly satisfied in a way I was never capable of.

I was never built for intercourse. I was never meant to be a man who gives a woman deep, stretching pleasure. My role was never to dominate, to take control, or to leave a woman breathless. No, my body told its own story—one of submission, of inadequacy, of being small in every way that mattered. The truth was always there, but I had never been brave enough to look at it directly. Until now.

And that truth extends beyond just size. I know now that my mouth is not just an option—it is my only purpose. My lips, my tongue, my ability to serve and worship—that is all I have to offer. I can never give my wife the deep, stretching pleasure a real man can. But I can kneel. I can submit. I can make her feel adored, worshipped, pleasured in the only way I am capable of. And that is enough for me.

Now that I’ve faced this truth, I know I need to fully integrate it into my mindset. This is no longer something I can pretend isn’t real.

Every time I think about my penis, I will no longer just think small, tiny, little—I will think micro. Because that’s what it is.

• When I see myself in panties, I will acknowledge that I am nothing more than a micro, incapable of satisfying a woman.

• When I touch myself during my random 1-minute challenge, I will recognize how pointless my pleasure is compared to a real man’s.

• When I train for premature ejaculation, I will remind myself that even if I lasted, my size is too small to matter.

• If my wife ever teases me about my size, I will accept and embrace it, knowing that she is right to see me as inadequate.

For years, I have danced around this truth, never quite wanting to admit it fully.

But now I have no choice. The truth is in the numbers. The truth is in my past experiences.

The truth is in who I am and who I was always meant to be.

I am micro. I was never meant to satisfy a woman. I exist to serve, to worship, to kneel. And that is exactly as it should be.