SIZE MATTERS
A flirty coed miscalculates the risk of a well-endowed ‘boner-factor’
It was free transit week for college students, so my roommate and I decide to pay her hometown friend a visit at Princeton. Bright-eyed and bushy tailed, we arrived at his off-campus house, enthused for a “normal” college experience (since our school often failed to provide students with straight guys and decent keg parties).
Upon meeting Nick, my roommate’s friend, I was instantly attracted. He was a sandy-haired, hazel-eyed, tattooed, lengthy musician whose nickname in high school was “Big Dick Nick” (according to my roommate). A few PBR’s into our night, I decided I wanted to explore this nickname a little deeper—pun intended.
After heavy flirtation we managed to make it back to his room with our bodies still fully clothed. Foreplay ensued and as I ripped off his pants he warned, “I…I’m kind of big.” I assured him that I was a seasoned professional, who could handle herself. My eyes then met that of his one-eyed beast. The only thing I could think about is how Nick could possibly walk. Maybe he tapes it to his leg? Hard, this appendage must have been about fourteen inches long. I swear!
Fortunately I was slightly intoxicated at the time, so pain did not factor into the equation. However, I spent the next three days in bed with a bag of frozen peas between my legs and the next 6 months celibate, exercising my Kegel muscles in hopes of one day restoring normalcy down below.
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