Dating Chronicles: The Micropenis

Disclaimer: I’m in my 20s, which means I make bad decisions. Sometimes, I do it knowingly. Get over it.

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Everett* volunteered to be my DOD** after we discussed our outlook on relationships and life, and I accepted his offer of a commitment free, no strings attached lifestyle. I liked the idea of calling someone at 1 am, telling him to come over, him saying okay, us doing grown and sexy things, and him leaving right afterward and locking the door behind him. Where do I sign up?!

Bruhhh, I should have known this would not work. I thought we both understood the rules, but I soon learned that he failed to understand what being a DOD entails. He came over to my place one night with his overnight bag. DODs did not spend the night, so I was confused.”Where are you going with your whore bag?” I asked as he walked inside my living room.

“You got a problem with it?” He responded while looking at me in bewilderment.

“I’m just asking.” I said as I shrugged.

​We did not spend much time conversing. Instead we directed our attention to the business of it all. Everett dropped his pants with confidence while I sat at the edge of the bed with my legs crossed and hands by my side. I didn’t look at first because I didn’t want to be rude. Lol, I don’t even know why that would be rude, but I was going to look when he didn’t see me looking. So I finally glanced.

I don’t know what my facial expression said, but I’m sure I gave off what I was thinking. Never in my life had I witnessed such a small nub. Call me an uneducated fool, but I did not know micropenises really existed. I tried to reason with myself. I had grabbed his crotch a long time ago to determine if he was working with something, and I was sure that I had felt more than what I was currently seeing. Perhaps now it was flaccid and it would grow exponentially as it got harder. So I gave it the stroke. My hand was too big to wrap around his package. I could have stroked that thing with my index finger and thumb. Actually, I did. It got harder, but not bigger. We had improved to the index finger, middle finger, and thumb. Maybe he wasn’t aroused by my stroke game. So I gave him head. Literally, my entire mouth could take that thing. As someone with gag reflexes, it gave me a glimmer of confidence. He became much harder, but still small. No length and no girth. To this day, I don’t know what I was feeling when I did that initial crotch check.

I had never been in this position before, and I didn’t know what to do. This was something that needed to communicated beforehand – not something to just suddenly spring on someone. I decided to look past it and treat it like any other penis for the night. Another woman would have laughed him out of the room after asking where the rest of it was. He was probably three inches at his most erect, and that was with me giving him some centimeters for extra credit.

There was no point in bringing it up because he had to know his penis was small. The harshest attack on a man was calling him out on his genital lack, and everything happened so quickly that I couldn’t think of a way to discuss it without sounding insulting. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I also didn’t want to go through with it because I didn’t think I would enjoy it. That was not a good position to be in. I felt like I had to consent to something I didn’t want, and I was upset by the fact that this information wasn’t released earlier. Who volunteers to be a DOD knowing they aren’t qualified for the job? There was a reason the acronym was DOD. WHERE IS THE DICK??? That was the basic requirement.

He performed decent oral stimulation before slipping on a condom and inserting. We tried a few different positions. Missionary with my feet basically touching my ears was the best option. All others were a bust. I couldn’t even keep his penis inside to ride, I felt nothing for doggy and missionary with my legs simply spread was also a failure. I was not looking at the time, but the nonstop stroking lasted for what felt like an hour. My legs were starting to cramp from being bent in the same position for so long, so I just laid there waiting for it to be over. I wanted to fake it so bad just to speed up things, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t going to stroke his ego by pretending.

He spent half of the time demanding that I “come on daddy’s dick,” but he wasn’t doing anything that would allow that to happen. (Note: There’s something to be said about men who want to be called daddy but don’t want to do daddy things, but that’s another topic for another day.) I really wanted to, but neither of us ever have an orgasm. I won’t even lie, there were two times that I felt that he might be able to take me to ecstasy, but he never figured it out. Once he accepted that this wasn’t going to work, he requested that I suck him off. I obliged because I was beyond ready for this night to end, and he yelled like a bitch and then exploded. In the most unbelievable act of selfishness, this fool immediately fell sleep. I got no reciprocity.

I know the fuck not.

Please believe me when I say I woke his ass up. He got up and began talking like we both just had the time of our lives.

“How many times did you come? I counted at least two! Just tell me.”

And then, “You got really wet when I started stroking to the left. Whoever you were with before just must have just gone to the right because the left is tight as fuck.”

Is this real life???

I got him to shut up. I was ready for him to leave because I was no longer aroused, but his ass was going to make me explode some type of way before he left. I didn’t care how. He went down to provide oral stimulation. Again, his tongue game was decent, but someone with a micropenis should have five-star skills to compensate for his lack of size. His cunnilingus should have made me scream at the top of my lungs.

Everett left satisfied and already planning on the next time. Little did he know, I had no intentions on seeing him behind closed doors again. His small package wasn’t even the main issue for that decision.

Sure, he didn’t qualify for being a DOD, but what was even more infuriating was the fact that he failed to meet my needs after I met his, lied by omission, and disrespected my bathroom. I went to the bathroom after he had gone, and there was urine EVERYWHERE but in the toilet. It was on the floor around the toilet, on my shower rug, and on my shower curtain. This dude couldn’t even aim that thing properly. I. Was. Pissed.​The lesson in all of this was to never agree to a DOD arrangement sight unseen.

Tune in next month as I discuss more dating chronicles.

*Names changed for privacy
**DOD = dick on demand.

 

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