Of Meat and Men.

Published December 17, 2010 by Claire

If asked, any lady of negotiable affection will tell you of the many emails she receives each year confiding in her a ‘small problem’ which the sender feels may affect her enjoyment of their booking together. I place the words ‘small problem’ into inverted commas because what they are actually telling us is that their problem isn’t ‘small’ at all. In their opinion their problem is enormous. Vast. Humongous. Ready to take on the world and climb the Empire State Building with a small blonde clutched helplessly in one hand (I’ve lost control of my analogy a bit there to be honest because the problem doesn’t even have hands).

That’s right, you’ve guessed it. Many, many emails and messages, flying over t’interwoogle and telephone networks, telling their chosen floozy that they’re worried she won’t be able to cope with the dimensions of their appendage/penis/love truncheon.

In my experience, men who contact hookers to tell them about their unfeasibly large genitalia never book. They never turn up, they never prove the enormity of their trouser situation. Which means they must either be so encumbered by the coils of penile flesh that are looped around their waist and tucked into their socks that they can’t actually get anywhere – or they must have a perfectly average sized dong and just get a kick out of telling tall (long?) tales.

In actuality, I’ve only ever met one gentleman on my horizontal career path who had a scarily large member (funny how the words scarily large member make you think of John Prescott) and he was an inoffensive little chap who hadn’t mentioned it beforehand whatsoever. I sat next to him on his hotel bed, we commenced smooching, a spot of groping, some fumbling occurred and I slipped my hand inside his zip and blurted out “Oh My GOD! That is the largest blunderbuss I have ever seen!”

“You’re just saying that,” he said with a half-smile, “All you girls say that.”

It took me ten minutes to convince him that the reason all the girls told him he’d got an enormous wanger –  is that he had an enormous wanger. It was easily 14″ in length and I couldn’t close my hand around it.

Sadly however, as he told me at the time (and furthermore proved to me), the body simply cannot sustain a serviceable erection for very long in a beef bayonet of those proportions.

Still – we had a lot of fun trying.

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