A Perfectly Acceptable Measurement
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Raunchy shit. Mention of sexual organs. Gore galore. Palpably cringe.
First things first: my dick was 5.23 inches, exact. That isn't an embellishment, I'm not exaggerating. It's not rocket science. I measured and remeasured twice daily for three months straight, and from the base of the balls to the tip, erect, it was the same every day. By all accounts, not an impressive number, but, and I think most women would agree, an average, perfectly serviceable specimen.
Not for some girls, evidently! This chick – this damn chick – she just sneers at it. Takes one glance and you know what she says? "No."
No?!
She shakes her head. "No."
What do you mean no?! There we are, butt fucking naked, I'm straight as a ramrod, harder than I've ever been in my life, and suddenly she doesn't want it?
"What's wrong with it?" I ask.
But she won't say. Just tilts her head drunkenly to the side and squints, sort of inquisitive, all-meerkat-like, and shakes her head. "No."
Just... no...
Well, there you have it, folks! 'Whatever, man,' I think to myself. 'Her loss.'
So yeah... She leaves in a tizzy, I holster my firearm, zip up my fly, follow her out. I'm feeling pretty down in the dirt- who wouldn't be? – when who should I bump into but Fred. "That was fast," he exclaims.
"You're tellin' me," I say. "She backed out," I explain.
"Maybe she was just saving face."
Hardly. I know the type. Probably shacking up with some well-endowed fuckboy as we speak. But I try not to let it get to me. The night's young. Like Fred says: there's plenty of fish at this party. So I take his advice, start chatting up a new chick, working my magic – volleyball player this time.
Well, it isn't long before we're stumbling head over heels into a vacant room and shedding our pants, gettin' ready to bunt uglies when-
Can you guess? Right as we're raring to go, she gets one good look at my package, can you guess the first word out of her mouth?
"No."
What do you know! No! What in the fuck is going on?!?! Not one, but two curveballs in a row?!
"It's not that small," I insist, sobering up a bit, but she's already vacating the premises, fleeing the crime scene, what have you. It's enough to make a grown man cry.
Well, needless to say I was pretty depressed after that second failed attempt.
"I just don't get it man. 5.23 inches is a decent size, right?" I'm complaining to Fred when I get an idea. Real lightbulb moment. "Bro, like, no homo, or whatever, but would you mind, like... comparing?"
Obviously, I don't know how Fred will react, but I'm desperate. To my surprise, he just shrugs, pats my back. "Sure, dude." And so we head off to a secluded room, unbuckle our belts, fast forward ten seconds and-
"Bro, what the fuck is that thing?" Fred asks.
I look down. "That's my dick."
"That- that's not a dick..."
I'm confused, to say the least, so I take a second to analyze it, but like, really analyze it, yaknow?
Porcelain white, ribbed – for her pleasure – curved like a tusk and with a tiny mouth at the end. Capital D dick, if I've ever seen one. What's not to love? But then I start thinking- did it always look like that? Or is that little eyeball a recent development?
"That- that..." Fred stumbles away from me. He loses his balance. Falls flat on his ass. "That's not a dick."
My dick leers up at him. "No? Well, what am I, then?"
Fred begins to shriek, and before either of us knows what's happening, my cock lunges forward, leeching to his chin.
"Jumping Jesus!" I scream. "Since when can you speak?"
My dick tears Fred's jaw off by the hinges. Clopping its chops, it swallows, hard. "Since when do you ask stupid questions?"
I fumble over Fred. He's writhing around, bleeding out from the newfound stub of his chin- or what's left of it; eyes rolled up in the back of his head, severed tongue squirting blood like a fountain...
"That was our friend," I whimper.
My penis bobs up and down in what I'll learn is its approximation of a shrug. "Measure again."
So I get out the old tape measure, and... what do you know- "5.71 inches..."
"How's that for improvement?"
Well... I'll be damned.
Anyway, long story short, I'm certainly no schlump in the dick department nowadays. Or I wasn't, for a little while, at least, but we'll get to that. It just goes to show what your average man can achieve if he really puts his mind to it. After a few more literal dick measuring contests and the subsequent feeding frenzies, I was ready to show the new and improved baby off. I present to you: My Cock, v2. All's left was to find the lucky girl to give it a whirl.
She chose me, in the end. Another week, another party, this time in the Hamptons. She was the hostess, too. Imagine that. Slutty, silent type. Raccoon eyeshadow. A regular thot. I like it a lot.
We find ourselves a cozy, pitch black room in the thick of her daddy's mansion. A one-two and she's off with my pants like nobody's business. Showtime, I think. It's the first anyone's been awake and/or alive to see my dick in its full-throttled glory since Fred, so... What can I say? I'm nervous.
I shed my briefs by the cover of night. Unveil the prime specimen.
She gasps- watches it swaying proudly in the dark like the pendulum to a grandfather clock.
"8.9 inches," I say. You know you're packin' when you can drop the second decimal.
Oh, this girl's excited. Without a word, she strips off her dress.
All I can do is gawk.
An errant shaft of moonlight filters in through the blinds and I can see her vagina is pronged with moist, piranha sharp teeth, like the mouth to a Venus fly trap.
Next thing I know, my penis is screaming and flailing around, trying and failing to detach from my hips.
The woman smiles, fluttering her eyelashes. I realize I've yet to hear her speak.
Her vagina belches. In a voice both deep and authoritative- I swear to God it's licking its lips as it says: "What a perfectly acceptable measurement."
