Browsing dating apps can be tedious and overwhelming, especially if you’re looking for someone of substance. I’ve had more penis pictures sent to me than I could count. Don’t get me wrong, I do love a well photographed package, but it doesn’t exactly set the tone for relationship goals.
I found a man named Anthony online who looked very presentable and had a well-written profile biography. More often than not, guys don’t even bother to fill them out. Or they will simply put in some sexual bullshit with improper grammar and odd symbols.
Speaking of symbols, can we just take a moment to figure out how an eggplant is supposed to represent a dick? If my dick were shaped like an eggplant, I would have some concerns. Cucumbers? Sure. Even a banana. I’ve seen a lot of cocks in my day, and I can’t say any one of them remind me of a bulbous vegetable of uneven proportions. I digress…
After some small talk, Anthony and I began sharing our passions, hobbies, favorite things, etc. He used to work for Disney, and he was obsessed with Harry Potter. What more could I want in a man?
He lived in up in Leander, which is a suburb of Austin no one cares about. We decided to meet for a date in Cedar Park, which is a slightly closer suburb of Austin no one cares about.
I dressed to impress and headed up to the sports bar he suggested. Ironically, we’d soon find out that neither of us cared much for sports. But it was a good location all the same, and we were able to sit down and get to know each other better.
Neither of us ordered any food, or even beer – just water. I’m not sure what his reasons were, but I didn’t want to be the only one digging into a greasy basket of cheese sticks and chugging down cheap booze.
We spent several hours together before deciding to wrap it up. I knew we wouldn’t be spending the night together, which is the most common fairy tale ending to first dates in the gay world. He still lived with his parents, because he had just moved back from Florida. As it would turn out, they were Pentecostal Bible thumpers who disapproved of homosexuality. His mother was sleeping with two men at the time of Anthony’s conception, because adultery is apparently not sinful. This resulted in him having an estranged biological father than he never got to meet. He was raised instead by his mother’s husband, and he was often reminded of it during arguments. Anthony’s biological father was black, and being the only biracial member of his white family did not make matters any better.
He walked me to my car, and we both hesitated in that awkward time warp trying to decide if we should kiss and who should initiate. I get uncomfortable and impatient in that situation pretty quickly, so I got up on the tip of my toes to reach his lips. I’m above average in height, but Anthony loomed over me. A parking lot isn’t very romantic, so we didn’t kiss for long. And before parting ways, we made plans to see each other again soon to do karaoke.
Before driving away, I texted a couple of my friends who wanted to know how the evening went. I filled them in on the details, and they were all happy to hear the good report. One of my friends jested about him being half black and accused me of being a size queen. Because all black men have to have giant dicks, right? I’m not a fan of stereotypes, but at least that one is somewhat complimentary.
The night of our karaoke date came quickly, and he drove all the way into downtown Austin to meet me at my favorite spot. Unlike last time, we both decided to indulge in rounds of beer. I justified it would make our voices sound “better” while performing songs. He was too intimidated to sing in front of people, unfortunately. But I did lure him into my clutches with my own siren songs.
I returned to our table and suggested he stay with me overnight instead of driving all the way back to Leander, especially after drinking. I’m pretty sure he was planning on that already, but I extended the invitation anyway. And, of course, he obliged.
When we got to my apartment, there was no time wasted in pawing at each other’s clothes and throwing them around. There was a path of debris heading right to my bed.
He hit the lights before I got to see him naked, but he certainly felt good. He had a large, sturdy build with a well defined chest and unbelievable biceps.
We laid in bed making out for a while, running our hands down each other’s bodies. I wasn’t in the mood to invest much more time into foreplay, so I climbed on top of him. My hand reached back for that moment of truth, because size does matter to a degree. Anyone who says otherwise is either ashamed or being polite. But something didn’t feel right.
I wasn’t able to process what my hand was grasping at first. “What is that?” I thought to myself. I finally realized I was, in fact, touching his penis. It was so gigantic in both girth and length, it felt like an actual third leg.
“Holy shit, Anthony!” I shouted, dismounting from my straddled position.
“I know, I know, I should have told you, I’m so sorry!” he pleaded.
“No, no… it’s okay, just…”
Just what? I didn’t know what to say. I reached for it again to measure for size. It was monstrous and fascinating. Certainly larger than any phallic fruit or vegetable I had ever seen. It was like holding onto a burly man’s forearm. I wanted him to have a big dick, but this was outrageous. I’d never even seen a porn star be so well endowed. Was there a such thing as gigantism of the genitals?
“Wow, what do you feed that thing?” I said, stupidly.
“It’s always been this way,” he said, defeated. I felt terrible for him. This man seriously had such a large penis, he was hardly ever able to use it. I’ve pitied men born with little willies, but had never even considered the other extreme.
I decided I would try to at least give him a blowjob. But when I tried to put his wiener in my mouth, it wouldn’t fit. I was trying to unhinge my jaw like a snake. It was the most pathetic attempt at oral sex I could fathom. I stayed down there for a while trying my best, but ultimately it was a fruitless endeavor.
He returned the favor before grinding himself on top of me. I realized that it was the only way he could really get sexual pleasure without having to ask his partner to prepare himself by carrying a wine bottle around in his ass.
“What’s your wildest fantasy?” he asked me. It was a terrible question that I hated being presented with. My brain went completely blank. I felt so vanilla in that moment.
“I don’t know, what about you?” I pivoted.
“Pinch my nipples!” he shouted. “Harder!”
Nipple play is nothing new to me, but this guy was seriously into it. I worried that I was going to twist them right off if I squeezed any harder. Instead, he unleashed a fire hose of cum onto my body that splashed onto my sheets as well.
He collapsed onto the pillows, exhausted. I cleaned myself off with a towel and rested my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. It was then that a sickening thought crossed my mind. I realized there was no hope in continuing to date Anthony. I wanted to be able to have penetrative sex with my partner. I felt selfish for having to admit that to myself, but I knew I wouldn’t be physically satisfied with this otherwise perfect man.
We woke up together the next morning and said our goodbyes. He mentioned our next date, and I was careful not to lead him on or hurt his feelings. It wasn’t his fault, after all. I sulked back to my bed and laid there, trapped with my own battling thoughts. How was I going to explain to everyone that I couldn’t date Anthony? Because his penis is too big? What a problem to have…