Stephen Mayer
I would’ve whipped out a microscope, but that didn’t seem sexy.
I met Mike at a bar. He was actually a bartender in my neighborhood many moons ago, as they say, and being at a vulnerable place in my life, his charisma immediately drew me to him.
I was getting over my first love, or rather, trying to get over my first love. And Mike, being the exact opposite of that first love, seemed like the most convenient way to move on. He did work a block for my apartment, after all.
Mike wasn’t exactly attractive, at least not in the traditional sense. He wasn’t particularly smart, interesting, and he had an ego on him that was extremely misplaced, considering his consistent mediocrity.
But, as I said, I was in a rough place — a desperate, lonely place — so after several nights of banal chatter over too much wine, I took him home.
It started out slowly. We did that whole thing two people do when they’re dancing around the obvious. We sat on the couch, talked, and I basically pretended to listen, as I brought him home for one reason and one reason only: sex.
Having roommates at the time, we moved from the couch to the bedroom. I dulled the lights (as in turned them off completely) but nothing is ever completely dark in New York City, and I crawled into bed with him.
We didn’t kiss the same. He was far too tongue-y for me, and after struggling to find a middle ground on the kissing front, I gave up and decided to try to get things closer to home plate by reaching down to give him a handjob… where I was confused.
“What the hell is going on?” I thought.
I could definitely feel something in my hand. I mean, there was a phallic-shaped something in my palm, but considering how much I could wrap my hand around the whole thing, it didn’t make sense.
I proceeded to stroke it, which proved difficult with such a short shaft, so decided I should investigate. I shimmied my way south and because my hand had been in his boxers during the handjob, I pulled them off to get a better look.
There, before me, was the smallest {{ penis }} I’d ever seen in my life.
Yes, my room was fairly dark, but I could see enough to quietly gasp… and gasp I did. It made no sense; he was easily six-feet tall with considerably large hands. How could this be?
It wasn’t much bigger than a cocktail weenie or maybe a baby carrot or, more realistically, twice the size of my thumb in girth and roughly about the same in length. I have small thumbs.
We proceeded to have sex and I didn’t feel… well, anything. I guess I felt a pressure between my legs, most likely from the weight of his hips against mine, but inside there was nothing ― no friction, no in-out motion, no deep tickling that comes with a penis being inside you ― nothing. I guess that’s what happens when you have sex with a small penis.
I would later learn, after having sex with him again (because, well, I was bored), that he was aware of his penis size. He was, in no way, in denial about it, because how could he be? Instead, he made up for his teeny weeny by giving some of the best oral sex I’ve ever received and honestly, that’s what kept me around for a few months.
We definitely had sex a decent amount during our six-month-long tryst, but it was never satisfying having sex with a small penis . And I did, on more than a couple occasions, ask if “it was in.” I didn’t do it to be mean; I just honestly didn’t know.
I write this with no ill will toward him (as a woman might do when she’s been burned) but from a real place of OMG, WTF? If I couldn’t feel him inside me, how could he feel himself inside my vagina? I always wanted to ask but didn’t.
In the end, I started sleeping with my first love again because I’m a glutton for punishment and Mike moved on to someone else, too. Wherever he is today, I’m sure he’s satisfying a woman with his tongue, because he really has no other choice in the matter.
I was never really one who needed a big penis but after that, I’ve realized otherwise. In the words of Sex and the City’s Samantha Jones, “What can I say? I need a big d*ck.”
Preach, girl.
See this video from a man who admits to having a micro-penis.
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