I Think I Like Small Penises


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I Think I Like Small Penises

As with every romantic tale, mine started with a slutty, drunken 1am decision. I had deprived myself of sex for over a month in a last ditch attempt to raise my unimpressive GPA. The plan had severely backfired leaving me as a horny, bitchy mess. So you know, your average Tuesday.

It all started when I decided to attend a party the Friday before. I’d been there several times, but had zero memories of it. Because I am not one to break tradition, I promptly drank myself into a sad blacked out excuse for a college student. I was dominating beer pong (I’m still undefeated), I was talking shit, and I was drinking my weight in beer, when all of a sudden I saw him — the hottest guy at the party and he was actually funny, a big plus. He lived at the house, and per my friend, I’d already had multiple conversations with him over the past year, so I kind of had an in, thanks to myself.

Clearly I was in no state to make any decisions. So I decided to do the right thing and wow him with my lack of charm. Unfortunately, it somehow worked. We have it so easy, amirite? I vaguely remember following him upstairs and one thing turned into another. He went down on me, and I made a mental note to remember his name because clearly this was grounds for true love, and replied with a quick blow job, so I could return to the party and this is where things don’t add up. I remember noting his above average size, but not anything that should sound the sirens.

So why the fuck was I completely unprepared for the tree trunk that stood at attention before me a few nights later? I was completely convinced that if I had been training in the ancient art of vaginal stretching, it still would not work. The heat he was packing made childbirth look like no big deal. The fact that I hadn’t had a dick appointment in a few months (which practically made me a virgin) made the whole situation laughable. It was like asking me to be fiscally responsible. It was just not going to happen.

He asked for consent again, clearly acknowledging my look of horror. Did I really want to be that bitch that is laying in his bed naked just to say nah? Besides, maybe just maybe, I would love it. Mega dicks get all the rage, it didn’t make sense not to try it, right? He slipped it in and my life flashed before my eyes. Tears immediately rolled down my face and I swear to God I saw a white light. I screamed out in pain, and he clearly mistook my moans as pleasure because he went deeper. I was in disbelief that there could possibly be more.

I stared at the ceiling in agony, asking what I have done to deserve this torture. I felt like that annoying girl who complains about things she really shouldn’t be able to complain about, like having too big of boobs or too much money. There was a really hot guy with a great sense of humor and mesmerizing muscles who was somehow attracted to me. It wasn’t like I had suitors lined up at the door for me. While I’m not disgusting I’m certainly not a 10, and in all honesty my personality kind of sucks. It should be a dream and half that I was thrust into this situation.

Yet I could not get past that had this same guy had a sad little member, my decision to run for the hills would have been justified. Instead, I was supposed to praise the guy who was big enough to literally break my heart. So I powered through like an adult. Meaning of course that I bitched and complained the entire time and for a few weeks after. And even now, as I sit nursing my vagina back to health, I have a new appreciation for the smaller dicks in the world. Not that I would ever be satisfied with them, but at least they won’t kill me.

Image via Shutterstock

Blondie excels at being an underachiever. She is currently trying to add an extra year onto her undergrad so she can continue to down $7 bottles of wine in an environment that encourages her erratic behavior. After graduation, she has big plans to flunk out of a prestigious law school. Email her compliments and Netflix suggestions at blue.eyed.blondie.tsm@gmail.com

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