Centimeter Peter: Size Doesn't Matter... Well, Not All The Time.

When I first started dating boys, I never had anal sex with them, which I know must be a big surprise for most of you who know me. I had my first kiss when I was 17 years old and didn't finally engage in anal intercourse until I was 20 and a half years old. Between my first kiss and my first dick in my ass, I never wanted to have sex with boys and thought I would be fine having oral sex until I finally found a boyfriend. For some reason I thought saving myself until I had my first boyfriend would make me happier, but I was obviously retarded. Part of the reason why I held back on saving myself was because almost every man I met had a really huge dick. It got to the point where I was looking up male-enlargement tablets because I thought my penis size was well below average. However, I finally saw an Asian penis and it lifted the weight off my shoulders.

After I finally lost my virginity, I began making more trips around the block than the mail man. I had black men, brown men, yellow men, and men of all other colors of the rainbow. With all the sex I've had, I'd be more than happy to tell everyone that size does not matter. I've had huge black men who had big dicks and didn't even know what to do with them. Conversely, I've had men of average-penises who have showed me the time of my life. However, I have met men who are littler than average, and they also happen to be a part of the group of men I've decided never to call back.

Living in San Francisco, I had no trouble finding a man over 7 inches. In fact, it was almost as if they were the only ones I attracted. Thank you, happy hour. Since I've moved to Australia, I've been finding a fair share of well-endowed men, but at the same time, my little-penis encounters have increased since I've gotten here. The first time it happened to me was when I was at a night club, drunk, obviously, and this brown boy came up to me to dance with me. He was pretty cute and he had his shirt off so I can see that he had a nice body. I kissed him, which lead to us further making out for the next 4 songs or so. He stopped kissing me and led me to a separate lobby where people could basically do whatever they wanted. We continued to make out and he took my hand and shoved it down his pants. His penis turned out to be something close to the girth of a #2 pencil. I stopped kissing him, laughed, and walked back to the dance floor.


My second little-penis encounter happened at the same club, but unfortunately I didn't find out about his mini-me until it was too late. I remember dancing next to an attractive man in a white shirt and I was trying to get his attention. Luckily, I didn't have to do much because after a few minutes of dancing where I knew he would see me, he patted my ass. I turned around pretending to be offended and he leaned towards my ear and said, "Sorry, I can't help myself." I started dancing towards him, smiling and put my hands on his shoulders. After a few seconds, I lightly hit him in the groin and said, "Sorry, I can't help myself." I turned around and walked a few steps in front of him and continued to dance like the drunk ass I am. He came up from behind me and started grinding on me. After a while, he told me he was going home and I asked him if I could come, to which he said yes. We got into his dorm room-like apartment and immediately began getting hot and heavy. I'm not going to lie, this guy is about 6'0 and kinda fit, so I expected his penis to be nothing short of 7 inches. When he pulled down his pants, it was 5 inches. I understand that 5 inches is considered average size, but it wasn't enough for me. I felt like a porn star who gave up her whorish career for someone boring like Donald Trump.

My third and worst little-penis encounter happened at the same club as the other two, so obviously I need to find a new favorite club. I was entering the club, drunk as usual, so I felt like I was the baddest bitch in town. I had been walking past this one dark boy a few times. I can tell he wasn't the fittest guy, but he definitely had some muscle underneath his fatty layer, which I still appreciate. Back home in San Francisco, I'm so used to those ghetto black boys and associating them with big penises. I looked at this husky boy and saw exactly that. He had that confident walk and every time I passed by he cocked his head up to let me know he was acknowledging me. I wanted to giggle like a little Japanese schoolgirl every time he did it. Finally, I made my way to the dance floor and he was walking towards me. I looked at him and he looked at me. When I passed by him he gave me the sexiest smack on my ass. I'm not talking about those baseball game pats on the ass. He gave me a smack so good, it practically said, "I'm going to make you my bitch." I did my usual pre-hookup routine of dancing with him and going to his house. We made it to his bedroom, got naked and I was faced with the most embarrassing thing a man could ever have attached to his body, besides red pubic hair. I was laying on my stomach with my face looking at the head of the bed. I felt one of his hands on my my left ass cheek and with the other, he began to finger me. Personally, I hate being fingered because most guys usually go in with a dry finger and it irritates me. Before he started fingering me for too long, I asked him to stop and he said, "I'm not..." I looked back and saw that his left hand was on my ass cheek and his other hand was holding his shirt up. Obviously, he was trying to penetrate me, but was too small to do that. I asked him if he could put a condom on first so he got up to go get one. I flipped over on my back and he came back to the bed, starting to open the condom. I couldn't go through this again, so I just said, "I'm too tired for this. How about we do this in the morning?" He agreed and we fell asleep.

When the morning came, I woke up and started to put my clothes on. As I started to put my jacket on, I heard him waking up and he said "Where you going?" I told him I was going to the bathroom and he said, "Then, why are you putting on your hat and jacket?" I told him I was cold and my hair is embarrassing. Luckily, he was naked so he couldn't get out of his room. I exited his room and closed the door behind me. I saw that the bathroom was in front of me but I decided then that the best thing to do was leave. I closed the bathroom door in front of me so he would think I was inside the bathroom. I made my way to the front door and ran for the elevator as soon as I heard the door close behind me. By the time I had left the building, I get a text from dark boy saying, "You forgot to have sex with me." I texted him back saying, "You forgot to bring your penis home."

Dirty Talk: I Hate It When Men Talk During Sex

When I came to Australia I found out about this website called Gaydar, a site for gay men to meet each other so they can continue to fuck around. Like every other site for gay men, most users have photos of their private parts, which to me seems like such a turn off. I'd hate to join a chat room with one of those users and make it seem like I'm talking to two balls and a shaft. However, I must say it has quite a few attractive users. Most of which lie between the age of 29 to 45, which is fine by me because the last thing I need is another fairy my age who is just as selfish as I am. Like most old men who are planning their funeral, I tend to go after users that are definitely out of my league. I like a man with a big chest, and big arms, and a big butt to grab on to. I understand that with the way that I drink I may never be as attractive as they are, but still I continue to hunt them down.

As a bottom, one who is on the receiving end of anal intercourse, I tend to advertise my ass a lot more than I would my chest or arms. I like to believe that my best asset is my ass and it's probably the only thing I have going for me. If I was Asian, I would probably have a flat ass and be best friends with a cucumber. However, for a gay man, I seem very boring because I do not post nude photos of myself on any web site. It's not a matter of self-respect, because that diminishes every time I wake up next to a Mexican after a long day of happy hour. I believe it's more of a matter of remaining a mystery. I like men to think that when they see me with my clothes on there must be so much more to my ass than meets the eye. Truth is, I look a lot better with my clothes on.

I was on Gaydar one day searching all of men within my area and filtered out only users who described themselves as "muscled." One profile caught my eye of a man who looked like he was in pretty good shape. I saw his pictures and I could tell that the gym was definitely a hobby of his. His profile said he was 5'11, cut, and only drinks socially. So far, so good. I saw that he had an MSN so I decided to be a little more bold and IM him. I greeted him and gave him the link to my profile and he complimented me with a cute smile. Later we exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up.

It started off smoothly as he treated me to dinner and a few drinks. We even got a chance to see Chelsea Lately, which made him fall asleep. I have reason to believe he just wanted to go to the bedroom, which was fine by me. At this point he had been talking a lot, but I figured he was probably just like me: chatterbox with my clothes on and mute with my clothes off. However, as we started getting hot and heavy and taking our clothes off he still continued to speak. As I lay on my stomach he was performing oral sex and at the same time giving me an oral speech. I never felt so annoyed in bed.

I understand that there are times when people talk in the bedroom and I admit to saying a few words myself, such as "oh yeah," "faster," or my favorite, "here I come." Futhermore, I know there are some necessary questions that need to be answered before finishing sex, such as "what's that smell?" "Is that your boyfriend pulling up in the driveway?" or "Are those in-grown hairs or warts?" However, this guy would go on and on about the stupidest things. I've had guys ask me stupid questions that I can tolerate, such as "you like that?" Yes, I fucking like it. I'll be sure to let you know when you're doing something wrong, like trying to penetrate my belly button.

While I lay on my stomach he would run his tongue down my back and come back to whisper something in my ear. "There's a few Australian phrases I should teach you." At this point, he started to use his name so for the sake of not exposing who he is, I'm just going to call him Clueless. He would continue running his tongue down my back and said, "One of them is 'yes, Clueless.'" He continued to explore my body with his tongue and say, "Another one is 'please, Clueless." I was honestly two seconds away from saying, "How about 'take a sip of shut the fuck up, Clueless.'" but I restrained myself. He flipped me over onto my back and he said, "and the last one is 'more, Clueless." He began to give me head so I kept my hand firmly on the back of his head to prevent him from pausing to give me another presidential inauguration.

As I was coming close to climaxing, I was exaggerating my orgasms to make sure he knew I was about to erupt, but he still didn't discontinue giving me head. If only he was this quiet throughout the whole deed. I ejaculated into his mouth an within seconds he starts talking again. "You have no idea how badly I've wanted to do that to someone." I remained silent and in my head thought, "You have no idea how badly I enjoyed your silence."

I made my way to the bathroom to take a piss. As I finished up, I flushed the toilet and saw one of the most scariest things in his shower. There was a huge pile of dildos and sex toys on his shower floor. These were no average-6-inch-white-man-penis-sized dildos. These dildos were bigger than any black man I've ever had. Some of these toys were even fake molds of fists. Upon seeing this I couldn't help but blurt, "the fuck?!" I didn't exactly yell it, but it was loud enough for Clueless to hear and ask me if I was okay. Although I was okay at that moment, I wouldn't be much longer if I stayed to spend the night. Not that it was my dying wish to stay much longer, anyway, but I knew I had to do something.

"I'm fine, I just remembered I left my roommate locked out." He asked me how I knew she was locked out and I told him that she would be getting off work soon and would be waiting for me to open the door. "Well, isn't there 6 people who live in your house?" I forgot that I had told him that so I told him me and my roommate also had to go to the store." He asked me why I needed to go to the store so I played defensive and said, "Do you have to know everything about my life?" He was a little taken aback by the response and offered me a ride home. I accepted because the I figured the faster I get away from his shower, the better.

I made him drop me off around some building close to my house to make sure he wouldn't know where I lived. I didn't exactly take him for stalker, but I didn't want to risk walking down the street with a man chasing me with a rubber fist. As I stepped out of the car, I approached the nearest person near me and said, "Madeline! There you are! Have you been waiting long?" I happened to approach an Asian girl who was unresponsive to my act. I don't think she knew how to speak English, which actually worked towards my advantage. I turned around and waved Clueless goodbye and thanked him for the ride. Ling-ling continued to look at me, dumbfounded, and I just told her "That's how you run away from rubber penises." and walked away.

A Whore Is Born: How I Discovered Masturbation

When it came to my sex life, I grew up a late bloomer. During the last half of my high school years, I asked my guy friends when they first discovered masturbation and all of them remember being around eleven years old. I didn't have my first blast off until I was sixteen-and-a-half years old. To make matters worse, I have a feeling I would have discovered it much later if I wasn't bored at home under house arrest. I vandalized a high school near my house, which resulted in me spending my last days of summer vacation locked away in my room. I spent most of my time eating, sleeping, and watching TV. Luckily, I had my own room so it encouraged me to lock my door and masturbate upside down with my back against the wall if I wanted to.

A week before school started, I got all my textbooks from school and decided to start on some early reading, especially since I had nothing better to do with my life. As I sat at my desk at home reading about witch trials and Puritans, I rested my head in my hands and gave a big deep sigh. I thought to myself about how I would hate AP European History and who's dick I had to suck to pass the class. My mind transitioned into sex and I entertained myself with the idea of pleasuring myself. Conveniently, I was wearing black mesh shorts and easily reached my hand down my panties and started touching myself. After a while, I became erect and started to think of what the point of all of this was. I was sitting there, stroking myself back and forth and because I didn't know it would have helped to lubricate myself with spit, I thought at any point I could start a fire doing this.

At one point it began to feel a little more sensational and I knew this was what it was all about. I had my eyes closed and my mouth wide open. I could hear myself panting like a dog. I'm sure it wouldn't have mattered if I was panting like a dog or howling like a wolf, I probably wouldn't have stopped what I was doing. Finally, I achieved an orgasm and immediately opened my eyes and looked down at my penis only to see it completely dry. At this point I had seen Ben Stiller in his masturbation scene on There's Something About Mary and knew there had to be sperm somewhere. I looked under my desk and couldn't find anything. It didn't help that my carpet color was Jizz White. I began placing my hand on random spots of the floor and figured it would be the best way to find it. Finally, I felt a mucous fluid on my hand and the only way to describe my reaction is by watching the video below.