He was basically the ideal dude: tall, athletic, and handsome. So typically; I was thinking about his dick. Like a lion spotting her prey, I observed him. Waiting for a moment to glimpse an outline of his penis through his, coincidentally, grey sweat shorts. To my disappointment, and not for lack of effort, I couldn’t catch one. Every new interaction enticed my curiosity a little bit more. His height alone gave me the confidence that his “member” to body ratio should there, but I had no evidence. It was time I found out for sure, for science or whatever. “Recently single and not really looking to mingle” was his game. Little did he know, I was hell bent on changing that.
As fate would have it, the stars aligned one drunken night and we found ourselves alone in the dark. I was on my period, so penetration wasn’t an option, but my mouth was. Lucky for him, I was feeling generous. Rolling over, I slid my hand down his pants and Holy mother of God. His member was prodigious! Overly excited, I try my normal approach of “go hard and shove it in!” Nope. For the first time in my life, I couldn't fit something in my mouth. Panicking, I immediately began developing a plan to conquer. Too bad even that was falling short. Feeling confused and disappointed in myself, I gave in and used my hands where we reaching his finale. Yay.
It wasn’t long before he reached out, making loose plans to hang on Friday, and every Friday for 3 weeks. And each week, one of us had something come up making it a no go. Then finally, after a month of fallen through plans, we did it. We were both free. Spending the appropriate amount of time making small talk, mostly around music and politics, my usual go to’s. Then got started. More prepared this time, I stuck his dick back in my mouth. And although still challenging, I definitely conquered. It only took about 3 minutes for he pushed my back, stood up and pull me off my knees.
I sat and watched as he worked on stretching the condom over his piece. What happened next I could only imagine looked like a porn video. One where Mandingo tried to put his Pringle can sized dick in some tiny girls pussy. I was the tiny girl and he was Mandingo. Obvi. Despite the effort, not much was going in. Making the most of it, we did what we could and it was alright. As he neared completion, a break my vagina was in desperate need of, he pulled back to adjusted. Too bad there was nothing left but the partial remains of the apparently broken condom. His face set with panic, alongside an immediate flow of pre-cum convo. As I’m sure you assumed, it didn’t take long before we talked Plan-B. Being an adult, I didn’t object when he asked me to go half and assured him I’d take care of it. No longer over the counter, I grab the box from the “sex” isle and head to the pharmacy register. Sympathetically, the pharmacist informed me that this product could not be rung up there and would need to be taken to the front. Following up with, “It’s okay, the cashiers probably won’t even know what it is!” Right. Because they don’t understand the words “EMERGENCY CONTRACEPTIVE”.
Until I had purchased a Plan-B for the first time, I had heard the term “Walk of Shame”. It was always in association with a dishevelled looking girl walking down the street, generally an indicator of recently received peen. But as I walked through Target, the huge see through security box in hand. I couldn’t help but feel like this was the true “Walk of Shame”. Moral of the story, if the condom ever breaks, you better send his ass to the store to buy the Plan-B. This is 2017 and it’s time we start sharing the shame.