Although I’ve been lucky, for the most part, when it’s come to the guy’s package I’ve had inside me, there will always be that one ultra-small piece of equipment that I came across back in 2004. So small that it invoked an actual gasp that I was, shockingly, able to muffle a bit. Needless to say, I never forgot it and never will.
- It’s true; you can’t feel it. Yes, the rumors are true; you can’t really feel it. I’d have to sort of guess whether or not it was in there. Of course, you don’t want to ask because that’s just rude and I try not to be rude. So there I’d be, wiggling around until I felt something against the inside wall of my body. Then I’d have my “a-ha” moment, so the fake moaning could commence. Normally, I’m against fake moaning, but again, I didn’t want to be rude, so I felt I had to throw him at least something.
- He was well aware that it was small. While he didn’t have a micropackage, which is 2.5 inches or smaller while alert, I’d say it wasn’t much bigger than that—perhaps three inches— and he was extremely aware of just how small it was. Like, to the point that he’d mention its smallness in conversation and I’d have to awkwardly respond, “No, it’s not that small,” the whole time knowing it was roughly the length of my middle finger… and I have small hands.
- I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Because men put so much emphasis on their damn bodies, as if it’s the only thing that makes them men, it was hard not to feel bad for the guy. Although I never asked him about reactions he had gotten from women in the past, I can’t imagine there wasn’t at least one woman who screamed out, “Are you kidding me?! Is that for real?” I mean, I almost did, but then remembered what I was taught growing up: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all.”
- We always got down in the dark. In most cases, I’m indifferent to whether the lights are on or off. Of course, I’ve never been a fan of getting it on in the glaring light of day because no thanks, but with him, we always got down in the dark, shades drawn if it was during the day. I’m going to assume he thought the darkness could hide the truth—as if my sense of touch was in some sort of denial.
- He talked dirty during intimacy but not in a good way. Although one would think that if someone were aware of their little part, they may not want to draw attention to it in any way, especially in bed, this wasn’t the case with him. During making love, he loved to talk dirty—dirty about his “big” package pounding me. Yep; he used the adjective “big.” Had he ever used “huge,” I would have stopped him right there because at some point things surpass awkward and just become a mix of sad and humorous.
- He excelled at using his mouth. Probably because he knew that his ability to satisfy with his body was zero to none, he had perfected giving it. Actually, to this day, I’d say he gave the best downtown action I’ve ever received. He knew exactly where everything was, what to do, and wow, it was magical. It was also the only reason I hung around for as long as I did.
- Going down on him made me feel uncomfortable. When you go down on someone whose body is on par with the size of a baby carrot, it’s hard not to feel weird because you can fit the whole thing in your mouth and then some. Seriously. I could have fit his package, his other bits, and a sandwich in my mouth and I have a small mouth! So I just couldn’t return the favor after the first time I did it, mostly because I’d picture all the other things that could be in my mouth along with his package. And I have a very vivid imagination, so it’s best not to go there.
- Protection wasn’t really an option. Truth be told, we never used it. I’d recently been tested for infections and so had he and I was on the Pill. But honestly, and I thought about this a lot, I don’t know if an average size protection would have stayed on his bits. I know they make smaller ones for smaller guys, but who wants to be that guy who buys them? If men put so much stock in their bodies, how can they possibly muster the courage to do that?
- When I saw it was relaxed, a part of me died. Despite getting down in the dark, every once in a while the light would shine on his limp package in between romps and… I’m not sure what the right words are. I didn’t love him, we were just hooking up, so it was something I could never really see past. If it weren’t for that sweet peak-inducing mouth action, I would have been long gone after the first night.
- I couldn’t help but tell my friends about it. Not only have I written about Mr. Small Package before, but he came up in discussions with my friends—he still does when it comes to talking about package size. It’s hard not to mention it because it’s such a rarity. I didn’t and still don’t talk about it in a mean way, I just state the facts: The man had a small package, I couldn’t feel it inside me, but he gave great head. End of story.
