********* Einstein was right, everything is relative.

I spent one summer in my mid-teens whoring it up, if by whoring it up you mean making out with three different boys on a regular basis and very occasionally giving them handies behind the strip mall in the next town.
 By the end of the summer I settled down with one of them, basically widdeling it down by picking the only one I could stand to talk to after he orgasmed into the yellow embossed fast food napkin that I for some reason had a million of in my mint '91 cavalier. 
Ironically enough the particular restaurant that carried said napkins happens to be my least favorite of the national fast food chains and I barely, if ever ate there. 
Be all that as it may the point I'm trying to get at that when I finally broke up with (un)lucky bachelor number three, eight years later, my interactions with the male members was somewhat limited. I mean I had seen a lot of junk on TV and in porn and even on my friends
but never really up close and personal to get a decent idea for size. 
I did have the three to compare though! All three were what I thought of as average size, varying by no more than quarters of an inch. 
While I didn't actual have full on sex with all of them, I did at least become relatively familiar with how they felt in my hand and the degree of wrist rotation needed to stimulate the entirety of the little guys to get the job done.  Don't get me wrong it's not like I had this down to an exact science by any means, but I didn't really have any complaints on my technique, the point is that I had a good idea of how big one was with out looking at it relative to comparing
it to #3's and by default Muttly's and Maximus’ since they were so similar. 
Following my brake up with #3 I decided to cut loose and whore it up a little again, again using "whore it up" as a relative term, I decided to get together with a boy (who at least by age was considered a man now) who I have known for a large portion of my youth and happen to be the first boy who ever touched my boobs (it was over the shirt and I don't think it really even counts.) 

We called him Clifford growing up on account of his gingerish colored hair; it was really a code name for his penis referencing it as the big red dog like the children books that to this day I find to be second only to the Bernstein Bears as the most boring series of books ever written, and since we assumed that the curtains matched the drapes the innuendo stuck. 

I planned our little get together to coincide with a night of drinking with some other friends just incase he happened to age into Hannibal Lector, I'd have them around to hit him over the head with a heavy object which we had designated before hand. 

He arrived at my place a little after 11, at which time my girls and I had already had a number of shots and were each about 2 beers/whatever drink we were drinking deep and ready for more. 

We meet them outside near the entrance of my community where I made him and his buddy drive the girls over to the apartment while I brought my dog to the woods to take a shit since I was too drunk to pick it up with out it becoming part of my manicure. 

Upon my return to the apartment we made our awkward hellos and started at the task at hand, getting them caught up to our state of inebriation. I poured both Cliff and his  “Buddy” a double shot of the pink lemonade vodka that we had already drank about 1/3 of. It was
easily the most disgusting flavored vodka I had ever ingested, the bottle was tossed out at the end of the night and I still have no idea of the brand and hope to never come across it again. 

After we felt they had caught up enough decided the best way to get the momentum for the night going would be to play some drinking games. The guys were gracious enough to bring a deck of cards a package of cups and some Ping-Pong balls. Since it was raining outside and that was the only place to play pong we decided that Kings was the next
logical game. 
I've never been a big fan of drinking games as a general practice, I feel it's stupid to need to find a reason to drink. It's like, really, if your life is so awesome that just having 10 or 15 beers for the sake of having 10 or 15 beers is difficult for you then please can we
switch lives cause I would really like to know what that is like. 
At this point in the night I was two more beers in and one more shot and was bored with the carbonation in the beer and made the switch to a bottle of basement white zinfandel, the only wine I normally like and I normally really like it. The switch probably would not have been
a huge issue, however this particular night I hadn't eaten, in fact I hadn't eaten the entire day, I had developed quite a wonderful habit of forgetting to eat for nearly days at a time and only really eating when my body required it and even then it was really small amounts and I was full, this was a completely new development for my body and I was loving it because I had dropped 25 lbs. in the 7 months since I moved back to Rhode Island. 

About half way through the game I had finished my bottle and got up to get a bottle of beer to continue the festivities, upon my return to the table it appeared that I had missed a game of musical chairs. Everyone was now located in a new seat, with the chair closest to
cliff empty. I made my way back and took up residence in my new home and tried not to trip over the crap that had made its way on the floor in my path. 

The game continued and we made it to a round of never had I ever, a game I actually enjoy because I find it to be a entertaining way to get to know people. Upon my turn I felt it would be entertaining shock everyone by stating, "never have I ever ... Kissed a girl." know perfectly well that both my girls had kissed each other on multiple occasions, and the guys defiantly had. It came as an even bigger shock since I was the only girl at the table who has openly admitted that I've had crushes on other girls. 

"No sa! You're lying!!" no one believed me. 

"Nope not even once."

"Well that has to change" the shorter of my two friends stood up walked around the table sat on my lap and planted one right on me. She got off walked around back to her seat and the game went on. 

A couple minutes later cliff leaned over and whispered in my ear, "that was hot, I'm jealous."

"Well ask her for a kiss I'm sure she will oblige"

"That's not what I meant"

I gave him my best sideways drunk flirty smile leaned over and gave him a kiss. When I pulled back I continued my attempts at flirting waited for him to try to kiss me again, I leaned in to go for another kiss then got up and ran to the bathroom. Shortly was already in there, but when I knocked on the door she told me to come and was finishing up washing her hands

"I gotta pee!!!" big mistake! For some reason like clock work the first time I have to pee when I'm drunk usually also means that I am going to get the spins. I think it has something to do with the speed at which I usually run to the potty. 

"Ugh! I wanna puke!!"

"Are you ok?"

"Yea I just want to throw up I feel like it will feel great!"

"Then do it"

I knew I couldn't coordinate well enough to wipe stand up and pull my pants up in time for the floodgates to open so I opted for the next best option, leaned over and spewed out the contents of my stomach into the tub. This would have been and awesome plan had I had a toilet seat that was of any quality, but I did not, so with my second lean on the toilet seat let go from it's base and I went over towards the tub quickly catching up with the pink liquid that had just gotten a head start down the drain. 

"Shit!! I hate this fucking thing!" I said as I stood up with the toilet seat I my hand. 

"Oh my god are you ok?!"

"Yea I feel better but hold on" I took two fingers and tickled the back of my throat until a final stream of liquid erupted over my tongue and into the tub. "Oh yea that's better."

Shorty was worried obviously not used to my drinking patterns yet and ran to go get something to settle my stomach. I turned around and brushed my teeth and rejoined the party that had made its way into the living room. I plopped down next to Cliff and did my best to flirt, an activity I am not very good at sober never mind as tipsy as I was. But
that didn’t really matter much, when I got bored with the process I went with a more straight forward approach, went over to the next room and called him over, he obliged and We found our selves in my hall way kissing. 

In the living room Buddy presented a commentary of our make out session for my friends announcing “Smooch” every time we kissed, proving that our current location was not as private as we would have liked to pretend it was. When he started backing away I was confused until he walked into the bathroom and asked if I was going to follow. Oh yea, you heard it right; homeboy’s idea of a wicked sweet place to get down was the potty. Don’t get me wrong the bathroom has its perks, I’m all for a good shower dance, but there was nothing going to be happening in the shower that night since I was too unsteady to effectively clean it to usable status. 

Cliffy got me sitting on the counter and went in for more smooching. At this point it wasn’t much of a secret how much he was enjoying himself. I figured what the hell, maybe I should toss him a bone. I reached for his pants and tried to unbutton them, a task that shouldn’t be very difficult even in my present state. Shouldn’t have been, but these pants were ridiculous. 
There was more security on these pants then the crown jewels! I mean what did he think he was keeping in there? There was the normal zipper and button, those I can maneuver. Before I could even get to the button though, these pants had some drawstring that was knotted in some navel knot, which every time I made any attempt to untie it, it got tighter. I half expected there to be some keypad under it once I got it untied, followed by some retinal scan. 
That actually would be an awesome idea, I mean if a girl is going to go through all that work to get to your zipper having her get her face that up close and personal with your junk, will cut a lot of time the out of the trip from your lips to your cock. 
Finally he unlocked Fort Knox pants and got the real Cliff out to play. He kissed me a bunch more and I took a hold. But oh my god, Cliff?! The big red dog?! This was so very much not what I expected! 


Cliff the big red dog was at best, a puppy! 

Now let be back track for a minute here; and I did this on purpose for literary effect; I told you that all three of the guys I had been with before were all about the same size, with in a quarter of an inch of each other, so I thought they were all about average, I couldn't imagine any other size being enjoyable, bigger seemed scary, and smaller I could understand the question "is it in?" Come to find out, and apparently two late to salvage the status of this night, my three previous encounters were pretty well endowed. I'm not going to get into metrics, but after some later research (don't ask) and conversation with some friends, lets just say the heat that cliff was packing was pretty adequate, and the other homeboys were just really lucky. 
But unfortunately that night was already ruined, I didn't know what to do or say, and I didn't know what to make of it. Poor Cliff was going to go home blue balled.  I made up some story about not being ready to be with someone new, attempted to just continue the smooch session, but the mood was killed. Not very much later the gentlemen made their exit, and my friend and myself finished off a tube of tollhouse cookie dough and googled the average size of a penis...