You want wang thoughts from fellow Salt Lakers? Fine, you got it. (Oddly enough, no one submitted one dick
joke. Not one. I banged my head
against my laptop a number of times in despair because I WAS COUNTING ON THOSE! Oh well.
That’s what I get for giving everyone a whopping three days to come up
with something.) Tonight, I’m letting guys do all the talking…except for me…because
I can’t stop talking.
Anyways, let’s get to
it. As Kenny Powers would say, “If that’s
what it takes, then a c-c-cockin’ dream it will be sucked upon.”
“If a man is straight, he has a skewed vision of normal cock
size. The only gauge he has of what a cock size is comes from porn. I grew up
thinking I had a baby-dick because the porn guys’ cocks looked like rolled up
newspaper, but it actually turns out mine isn't the size of a jeans rivet like
I thought. That’s nice, but I still
don't expect to be the one the ladies talk about at the water cooler.”
Really, you believed
in porn that much growing up? If I did
the same, I’d just automatically assume that every jogger I pass by DESERVES A
BLOW JOB! I would also think it’s
totally okay to jog braless. So between
your former dick size complex and my would-be floor-length tits, I think it’s
safe to say that no one should ever trust porn ever.
“My dick pleases me just fine. If a woman I'm with is a size whore, then she
will be disappointed. My dick will be
with me for life! Luckily being married, my wife finds my dick a perfect fit!”
Ooooh, how convenient
of your wife!
“The age old question: does dick size matter? I can't speak on behalf of any ladies because
I don't have a vagina or butthole that is accepting a dick of any size. I just
know dick size matters to me in the way that I know, and given that, I would
never want a huge dick. I'm
proportional. Which is great, other than the fact I'm 5' 7". But if I had
a big dick, I would probably have to buy different pants – possibly sweatpants. And come on, we all know sweatpants
in public is awful. So I guess dick size is important because if I had a big dick,
I would just be a big-dicked, sweatpants-wearing recluse.”
Wait a minute, I’m
missing something. Why not
sweatpants? I fucking LOVE sweatpants. I remember how in junior high, I wore nothing
but sweatpants and over-sized gymnastics meet tee-shirts, and I was seriously
the most popular gir----okay, you have a point there.
“A lot of people in my group of friends, either willingly or
unwillingly, have seen my ‘goodies’. While I am not hung like a mule or porn
star, I am, as comedian Martin Lawrence once said, a grower not a shower. While
flaccid, there isn’t much to be impressed by. Once at ‘full mast’, I am insanely
proud of it, but over the years, I’ve learned it takes more than a big – or
above average – dick to be impressive. If you don’t know how to use it, then it’s
about as useful as a body part made purely of cartilage (except at least with
those, you can smell and hear).”
I think we can all
agree that if dicks could smell and hear, there’d be like twenty more wars
going on in this world right now. Movie
theaters would be unbearable, especially if love pumps evolved enough so they
could LAUGH. Oh god. You thought Dane Cook and Seth Rogen were terrible
already? Just imagine actually listening
to an audience full of 18-35 year-old cocks guffawing every time Seth says, “I’m
chill as a cucumber, man!” The thought alone makes me want to finally subscribe
to Netflix.
Intermission! Here’s
a film clip from a movie that won the Palm D’Or at Cannes seven years in a row:
And finally, here are
some thoughts about Mr. Rooster getting a little help from Ms. Rabbit…
“Here's my confession: I'm perfectly average. Ok, a little
better than that, but not by enough to make Ron Jeremy jealous or to refer to
it as anything other than a perfectly normal, six-and-one-quarter inch life-[not
too short, not too]-long friend. And I'm not really bothered by that.
Like any other kid who saw major advances in internet
technology while he went through puberty, I've often wondered what life might
be like with a big black cock. But I'm not black. And how much bigger? Honestly,
I don't even know. I suppose just about every man wouldn't mind adding an inch
or two. But over the years and over some number of sexual partners, too, I've
learned that a big-bored gun barrel isn't all there is to it.
As I've been told by partners and friends over the years, a
vagina is only designed to hold so much (say 320 pennies, 30 bundled up
pencils, one Beanie Baby, and so on). Unless your pushing right on through the
cervix and into the uterus, you're rarely going to get much use of your ten-inch
telephone pole. Like the slow kid in kindergarten, try as you might, you'll
never get the rectangular block to fit where the circle goes.
So I've now proven beyond a doubt that length is overrated.
Which brings us to girth. And you've got me there. Yes, we all want to be the
guy that prompted Madonna to write "Like a Virgin." But in the end, I
see sex as more than just ramming a medium-to-large-sized meat missile into a
crevice as fast and hard as possible. And that's the point. Regardless of size,
sex and good sex are two very different
things.
Over the years, my normal-sized companion and I have had to
learn to communicate. We've learned to give and receive feedback during
foreplay and when we bang, bang, bang. We've learned to be open about our
interests, desires, kinks, and turn-ons. And in the process we've learned what
works for some ladies, what doesn't work for others, and that one technique
that makes every woman we've ever been with completely lose control. And isn't
that what sex is really all about?
Sure, if you date someone who likes feeling quite (ahem)
full, then a big cock is a great thing to have. But so is a fist, a local sex
toy store, or an internet connection and that 10" Doc Johnson dong you
just ordered. So who cares about the size of the boat or the motion of the
ocean if your captain knows his vessel and brings it home time and time and
--oh, oh, don't stop--time again?”
30 bundled up pencils? That reminds me of the movie SE7EN for some
reason, and now I’m crying, so thanks asshole. But in sincerity, I really like what this guy’s
got to say about toys. They’ve never
been my bag personally, but any man that likes to take it up a notch,
especially while providing a woman an additional option in case his monster isn’t
as remarkable as she hoped, is SOOOOOO COOL.
If Dick Week teaches you anything, it should be that simply thinking
beyond yourself makes you, like, four imaginary inches longer. Massages,
cunnilingus, toys, drugs…they all count.
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