Vagina size, vagina size, vagina size.
Yes, vagina size!
Vagina Size, two words that are never put together and yet have a massive influence on every sexual heterosexual relationship on earth. (Some gay male relationships too, but in those cases one of the males has a big secret he has been hiding).
Vaginas, just like all human body parts, come in a variety of sizes. The size of a woman’s vagina can have just as much impact on the sexual pleasure exchanged by a couple while fornicating each other as the size of the man’s penis. And yet men around the world are scrutinized for their penis sizes. Especially by themselves in front of a mirror with a ruler in hand (does digging the end of the ruler into your stomach count?)(Oh by the way boys and girls, if you’ve been measuring from the bottom you’re measuring wrong and you’ve got to take at least an inch off!). Meanwhile a woman’s vagina size goes unmentioned. This, I feel, is fucking bullshit!
I have tasted (well entered) oh but far too few vaginas in my time on earth, but in my studies, with the unvaried testing tool of my penis, I have seen (well entered) some greatly different sized slippery slides, for want of a better word, oh wait there is one, vaginas. Which makes me think, as a society why don’t we talk about vagina size as openly and as brutally as we talk about penis size? Even in my own all too slim sexual history I have experienced pussy so tight I had to check the girls ID after to make sure I hadn’t just accidentally fucked an eleven year old, and I have experienced pussy so loose that I had to go to the bathroom after to jerk one out just to make sure it WAS her fault and I hadn’t lost all sensation in my dick. Yet she probably went to her girlfriends after and told them my cock wasn’t big enough for her, and I didn’t go up to a single one of my friends to tell them they are welcome to fuck her too if they want, but they may as well just stick their dicks out of an open window and hope a wind picks up.
It’s double standards if you ask me. And yes, the time I thought I may have accidentally fucked an eleven year old I did wait till AFTER to confirm her real age! (Actually no I made it up, I am sorry, but I have tasted the tight sweet stuff and it was tight heaven).
Girls with tight little pussys which grasp the cock with gleeful squeeze should feel the unfair pride men with giant cocks feel. They should advertise it on dating sights. ‘24 year old woman with a great sense of humor, works in marketing, blonde hair, 5’2, and wonderfully tight small cunt, seeks a nice guy for dinners and good laughs’.
Women with huge deep wide cavernous abysses of vaginas, which make you think of an explorer entering the cave with a flaming torch in one hand and an immediate fear of awaking a hibernating bear, should feel ashamed (word choice used to emphasize point, please do not actually feel shame) of their physical flaw in the same way they would any other flaw on their bodies.
Men should discuss the size of their partners vaginas the way women talk about our dicks. “Hey dude, I have a problem with my new girlfriend, I really like her and all, but she has a massive pussy, it feels like I’m sticking my cock into an empty suitcase, I don’t know what I should do, should I dump her?” says your friend “Yes” comes the reply.
Woman should have to put up with random spam emails trying to sell them about weird made up vitamins that claim to shrink their vaginas.
Tampons should come in different sizes based not just on flow but also the size of the vessel they are about to be inserted into, and woman who have to buy extra large should feel the same embarrassment as guys who have to buy small sized condoms.
Basically what I am saying is that if it takes a little time being warmed up with an index finger before you can even imagine taking a cock without pain resulting, well then you have a huge cock, congratulations. Guys around the world want to meet you. Especially in ..Asia..! (How dare you snicker at that, racial stereotypes are horrible blights on our lives, I am sure some Asian men have perfectly large penises, and there is at least a few horribly bitter and angry black men with little dicks).
On the other hand if you have ever browsed an adult store and looked at the twelve inch dildos and thought “I can’t wait to submerge this into myself”. If you have ever been having sex with a guy who has at least an averaged sized penis and had him feel the need to ask you “is it in?” If you have ever seen a bed post and thought that might be nice to squat on, then I am sorry, but you have a tiny, tiny, little pathetic penis, and I’m sorry but unless you find a guy with some genetically freak sized cock which looks like a freaking arm, then I’m afraid you won’t ever really satisfy a man, and he’ll have to jerk off to cum even when you fuck. (If you find an Asian man with a genetic freak huge sized cock, and you have a cavernous pussy, please make a porn, it will be entertaining AND educational).
Have you ever held up one of those twelve inch dildos against the body of a normal sized woman? It goes from pussy to tits! If your vagina takes up three quarters of your torso then you have a big fucking pussy, ok. It shouldn’t even be called a pussy anymore; it should be called a cat-scan machine.
This is just reality. It’s been ignored but its time for it to come to the forefront of social scrutiny! It’s time people. Spread the fucking word. Girls talk about your vaginas! If one of your friends reacts to your queries on how big they are down below with strange jokes and rapid attempts to change the topic, then they are your friend with a big deep wide pussy, don’t set your guy friends up with them. Guys talk about your partners vaginas, if you can barely feel it when you’re inside of her then it isn’t the fault of your penis and its size or lack of size, it isn’t a commentary on you, it’s her fucking fault, for being born with a grotto for a snatch. So call her out for it. Make her feel bad. Then finally, finally we can have equality of the sexes!
And for the love of god (god is all about the pussy) if you’re a woman, and you enjoy being fisted, or taking those huge dildos, then please stop referring to your cooch as a tight wet pussy. You don’t have a tight pussy, what you have is a rabbit hole where your cunt used to be.
Anyways, so I recently accidentally shaved off all of my public hair.
When I say accidentally what I really mean is that I was trimming my public hair, you know anything to make that god damned penis of mine look even faintly larger, even if just by some form optical illusion. Not that it should matter, it had been some years since anyone had paid any significant attention to my penis, there was little hope of it receiving any accolades or critique of any sort in the foreseeable future, and I was far too familiar with the specimen in question to fool myself into thinking the tree trunk was any larger simply by cutting away some of the shrubs growing over the roots. Unfortunately, during this far too casual approach to landscape gardening, I accidentally dug too deep with my trimmer, creating a trench of innocent nudity across my lawn, and was forced to rip up all grass just to even it out. Moments later my pubes were all gone for the first time in fifteen years.
It did not look good.
It looked wrong, it looked alien, it looked like I was trying to replicate porn stars with completely shaved upper bodies, six packs, olive tans and cocks the size of guitar necks, where in reality I was a guy with plenty of body hair right above the now shaved zone, a pudgy stomach, three months of winter pasty whiteness overwhelming my skin and the penis of your average self-doubting normal white sexually ignored male. Replication was not possible, it was essentially like those horrible reality shows where ugly people elect to have plastic surgery in a vain and futile attempt to look like famous beautiful celebrities and end up looking like the plastic surgeon ran out of human skin to graft to their faces and so substituted with monkey ass, only this was my dick!
On a slightly positive note I was sure I had always had mole hiding in my pubes, and it was now missing. Personally I find moles to be quite an ugly flaw on the human body, and those with hairs growing out of them are I believe are one of the numerous examples of god’s creepy sense of humor, along with male bugs that get eaten by their mates as soon as they fuck them for the first time and pretty much all bodily expulsions, sweat, phlegm, poo, cum, urine, puss, ear wax, anyway you know what they are. I had long been too scared to investigate closely whether the mole I remembered living next to my penis as a child had given life to its very own family of public hair, as I was positive it would make me sick, and forever more I would spend any and every sexual encounter horrified that the girl may soon discover my disgusting secret. But now the mole was gone, or more likely it was never there in the first place. I imagine this mystery mole was nothing but a left over memory of insecurity from my pre-pube days probably developed one day while having a pathetic attempt at two finger pre-pubescent masturbation while eating a chocolate chip cookie at the same time. I always like silver linings which require me to remember that that kid was me!
Not to be left out, my balls now looked like a tennis ball which had been used as a dog’s chew toy and hair accumulator for six years lying next to a peeled parsnip.
The scrotum is a peculiar thing. Constructed to change shape and form based on its immediately environment, like a star-trek character with special powers to allow several actors to play the same character once the original cast member realized an existence of spending three hours in make up to look stupid before filming every day followed by a life time of nerd conventions was not exactly why they chose to pursue the dramatic arts, only in the case of the scrotum all the forms are ugly, at least Star Trek glues some funny ears on a hot chick from time to time. Of course another of God’s cruel jokes, let your scrotum come out and about it gets cold and shrivels away like a dried out used tea bag, warm it up by hiding it away in some comfortable underpants and it now decides to be as glorious as it is capable of, only unseen, plus it even starts to work less well when exposed to this happy warmth.
I actually have some real fond memories of my scrotum hanging low and proud from time to time, almost as if showing off to its greatest and only admirer (myself) its ability to be splendid. Now my testicals seem to be in a constant state of shriveled cowardness, like a rape victim curled into the fetal position in the corner of a tear and blood stained floor upon realizing her attacker was approaching her for another brutal round. (Why must I think of rape when I think of my balls?) I am not sure why my balls have chosen to never be all they can be. It may be because personally I don’t want them to produce ten billion sperm as I don’t wish to have children, especially seeing as if I do have sex anytime in the near future it will almost certainly take the form of a drunken one night stand with a less than attractive poor thinking stranger, and so I literally purposely do things like wear tight underpants and allow my penis to wave back and forth in front of a turned on microwave in a moronic mission to reduce my fertility, although perhaps it may also be that even my balls have given up on ever pumping some cum into a vagina anytime soon and so have gone into hibernation.
Anyway, so I was looking at my balls, now the only area of my groin covered in hair and it was horrific, and there was only one thing to do, attack the hairs growing on my scrotum with the sharp metal prongs of a beard trimmer designed to cut a path through rigid, course, beard whiskers intertwined with a whooshing blade ready to decapitate said whiskers. My balls are not the well defined and stable shape of my jaw and so I often erred and jammed these tiny swords into the soft, wrinkly skin of my scrotum. Skin which had up until now been protected with my every force and so essentially moddycoddled like an over protected child. My scrotum was a mommy’s boy, and now it had no defense against any sort of bullying. Almost as expected it bled easily and profusely and had numerous wounds as if hit by a school of shrapnel.
It didn’t take long for me to finish. Partly because I did not do a thorough job, it hurt to much, and it meant I had to spend too much time looking at my bleeding scrotum and a few bleeding spots on the base of my penis, which is not a site any man wishes to ever see in his life, especially on his own body, so I was left with a bunch of survivors, random curly hairs living with strength in a bombed out forest surrounded by charred bodies.
My public hair grooming was now complete. This is what I did to the appendage I hope to give sexual gratification to a member of the opposite sex with, and which I hope a member of the opposite sex will find so attractive as to give it the beautiful attention of her hands, mouth and vagina.
This is what I did to myself in the hope of being more attractive.
Oh well, at least I now have a new pass time. Picking off scrotum scabs while watching TV and flicking them onto the living room carpet where they can live until my roommate gets around to vacuuming again, and I think every man should at one point have warm satisfaction on knowing that a male friend of yours has walked on congealed blood picked off your balls!
Anyone got any opinions to add to the (hopefully) now huge world wide conversational piece of the size of ones vagina?
Anyone got any trim their pubes horror stories to share?
By the way when I was about six I played ‘I’ll show mine if you show yours’ with a girl, and when she pulled her vagina open I swear she had balls in there! I swear I can still picture them with my mind. I still remember thinking to myself ‘oh, that’s where a girls balls are’. What the hell was that?
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