By Molly Freedenberg
I have a healthy appreciation for the male anatomy, especially that scene stealer, the penis. (Too bad, testicles. Apologies, anus. You’re always going to play bit parts as long as Dick’s in the movie.) That said, I’m not particular about size. Or rather, there are so many other factors that are more important to me: color, shape, the feel of the skin, and perhaps most important, the body (and soul) it’s attached to.
In short? To me, size matters much less than just about everything else.
I realize, however, that not everyone shares my opinion. Case in point? The girl I recently overheard talking about her newest lover. (Names and places omitted to protect the guilty.)
This lovely little Latina with a delightfully filthy mouth was discussing, in detail, her new partner’s member. Both long and wide, it was perhaps the biggest she’d ever seen. And oh, did she like it. Much better than a thin penis, which she called “pencil dick,” or a short stubby one. “What is that, an eraser?”