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chiaThePet -> RE: Size Matters? (9/2/2008 1:31:07 PM)
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quote:
ORIGINAL: peppermint
Your post reminded me of an incident a long time ago. I was in my mid 20s, recently divorced, and my hormones were raging. Went out with a man who was probably 8 inches and very thick. I turned him down. I wonder how many other large men are turned down by women because of their size.
So ummmm, errrrrr, did you, ummmm, errrrr, happen to get a number?
Ok, here we go;
Well, I should humbly share the fact that I possess a very large penis.
(not bragging here by any means you understand, as it can be troublesome)
A simple jaunt into the public sector entails an ensemble of proper planning
that I might mingle among others without the stares, laughter and taunts most
often reserved for those with rhinestone studded hip huggers, as they sashay
with sweatered chihuahua on sequined leash. Oh the humanity.
Most times I mask my curse by wrapping my penis in an upward spiral around
my torso, a quick loop around one shoulder with the remainder lain across the
upper back coming to rest on the opposite shoulder. Cumbersome, but viable.
A surprising but welcome benefit of this particular masquerade is the appearance
of a much larger and more developed physique. Though it can be a double-edged
sword as I garner smiles and winks from total strangers and passersby. This can
become a predicament when a rather attractive member of telltale Dominance
raises that commanding eyebrow arch of "Come hither oh submissive one".
The immediate effect of sudden attraction and surrender pulses quickly to my
loins and the ensuing hulk-like transformation rises up from my groin, racing
unbridled as trembling threads tear at weakened seams. Bulging buttons strain
against the deafening screams of breathless, resistant fabric. And there, there
upon the innocent shoulders of a man with a shuddering secret, lies the beast.
Oh yes, it is how your mind reflects it. I become the bearer of shoulder pads.
That much maligned fashion faux pas which accompained the high hair of the
eighties. Nary a care, except "are they square"? And she was, a maneater.
For those of you too young to remember.............don't.
There it is, the bane of my existence, an organ of embarrassment. Yet lovingly
and sweetly paralleled with those whom find shoulder pads quite endearing.
And somehow nothing else really matters, because just like Bruce was then,
I'm still dancing in the dark.
chia* (the pet)
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