The REAL Reason He Liked ANAL Sex (part 6)

Slice of Life

Slice of Life (Photo credit: Geoff LMV)

I felt something attempting to enter me, but it turned out to only be his forefinger again. Damn! Well, at least THAT was hard.

And then the light began to dawn on me. No, not the lamp on my nightstand, the inner light of realization. JEEZ LOUISE! It wasn’t his forefinger after all, it was him; it was his PENIS. WTH? Since when did they make grown men with penises the size of forefingers? Could it even still be called a penis?

I gotta tell you: I have never, ever judged a man by the size of his penis, which is a very childish thing to do. However please note that the person who coined the phrase “Size doesn’t matter” said it to a man on April Fools’ Day and she had her fingers crossed behind her back. If you believe length and width don’t matter, please try having anal sex, or ANY sex for that matter with a penis the size of a pinky.

I heard him release a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh and I knew this encounter could only go downhill from here. He kept smashing my head back down into the pillow in front of me every time I attempted to raise up a little and say something that might be of some help. But as my head would go lower, my butt would rise up higher, which was none to his liking. He was getting more aggressive in his attempts to angle me just so and I squelched the urge to tell him, “I’m not the problem, dear, you are!”


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