The 10 Hottest Small Guys

The average length of an aroused penis in the U.S., measured from base to tip, is between 5" and 6."  But everyone thinks it's about 8", so average-sized guys often feel insecure, and small guys don't even like to pull it out.  But small ones work just like big ones, better in some cases -- no worries about gagging or biting.

Besides, I've never met a guy with a small penis who wasn't drop-dead gorgeous.  Especially these guys, who aren't ashamed of their smallness, who highlight it, transform it into undeniable hotness.

Here are 10 of the hottest small guys I could find.

1. Beautiful face, tight hard body, and a penis that would fit into the palm of your hand.

2. A twin with the classic face and physique of a Von Gloeden photograph, his limbs akimbo, one hand posed to draw our eye to the small penis of an ancient Greek statue.

3.  This Asian muscleman has his pubic hair carefully trimmed, like a window into a darkened universe, with a single light shining.

4. Radiant smile, slim body glowing with vitality, a dress shirt half off, and two low-hanging balls offset the small uncut penis.

5. Husky, hairy, enveloped in shadow in a rocky wasteland, inviting you to work your way up from his balls.

















More after the break.

Corbin's Choice: Handsome and Small or Sleazy and Gigantic

San Francisco, April 1996

A few weeks ago, Lane and I drove back to West Hollywood for the annual Oscar party.  Then, unexpectedly, he had to take care of something about the apartment building he inherited from his mother, so he stayed, and I took the bus back to San Francisco.

It's been three weeks, and he's still there:  "It's more complicated than I thought.  We need to completely remodel the foyer, and there's a zoning issue with the pool, and one of the tenants needs to be evicted."

Yeah, right.  The boy just likes being home.  Face it: he's not coming back at all.

To cheer me up, Drake the teddy bear artist and his boyfriend Zack ask me out to dinner at Almost Home, a Castro Street restaurant that specializes in "back home" cuisine: pot roast, fried chicken, chipped beef on toast.

There are dozens of Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Indian, Mexican, Greek, and Filipino restaurants in San Francisco, and I'm offered chipped beef on toast?  This evening won't go well.

They invite Zack's friend Corbin: in his 20s, tall, Mediterranean, very muscular, smooth hard chest visible beneath a white silk shirt unbuttoned five buttons.  Very handsome face, big black eyes, aquiline nose, a prominent chin.

Are they trying to fix us up?

He's very attractive, but there are thousands of eligible gay men within a five block radius.  Why Corbin in particular?

They know about my preference for extra-large beneath-the-belt gifts.  Maybe Corbin has a Kovbasa beneath the belt.

We choke down our down-home American food and start swapping stories of dates from hell, hookups with celebrities, and gigantic penises.  I tell about the time Alan and I accidentally picked up the kept boy.  Zack tells his coming out story.  Drake tells about his date with John Stamos, star of Full House.  Now it's Corbin's turn.

"I'm going to tell you about my choice: handsome or hung."

Bakersfield, California, Summer 1990

Corbin grew up in a conservative Armenian-American household in Bakersfield, about 100 miles north of Los Angeles. During college, he and his friends often went to drag shows and male strip shows at the Casablanca Night Club on N Street, downtown.

The gay community was rather small, so when you met a new guy, chances are one of your friends had dated him.

One night Corbin was approached by a rather ugly, sleazy looking guy with ridiculous hair.  His opening line was: "What would you like for breakfast tomorrow morning?  Besides me, that is?"

"Sleazy!" Zack exclaims.

Corbin almost gave Attitude, but then one of his friends gestured with his palms spread wide, indicating that the guy was super-hung.

Who cares if he was sleazy?  A penis is a penis.

There were no hookups in Bakersfield in 1990.  Corbin made a date with Sleazy for next Wednesday night.

After awhile, Corbin was approached a second time: tall, rugged male model looks with a little beard, very muscular bodybuilder physique and a honest opening line.

"Hi, do you mind if I stand here and talk to you awhile?"

Corbin practically swooned as they made initial small talk.

He glanced at his friends.  One signaled with his fingers that the guy was very small.  Princess Tiny Meat.

Who cares if he was tiny? Corbin made a date with Mr. Handsome for next Thursday night.

When he returned to the table, his friend said "Wow, what a stud you landed!  IHow are you going to break your date with Sleazy?"

 In Bakersfield in 1990, it was taboo to accept dates with more than one guy at a time. You had to evaluate the first, and get him evaluated by your friends, before you could go on to the second.

Corbin had to make a choice.

1. Sleazy but hung.
2. Handsome but tiny.

San Francisco, Spring 1996

"You stole that story from 'The Canterbury Tales,'" I protest.  "Where the man has a choice of a partner who is attractive during the day and ugly at night, or ugly during the day and attractive at night."

"Never read it," Corbin says.

"I'd pick Handsome," Drake says.  "He'll be the envy of all your friends, and you can work around the deficiencies in the penis department."

"I think I'd go with Sleazy," Zack says.  "No competition, everyone wondering what you see in him.  It'd be fun.  And you'd know what was waiting for you at home."

"Which one did you pick?" I ask.

Corbin grins. "Why, Handsome of course!  He had everything I was looking for in a guy, except for that one little thing.  And in the end, who cares about that?"

I look at Corbin.  Is he trying to tell me something, to "out" himself as small beneath the belt?

After all that buildup, there is no way I am going to reject Corbin.  After dinner and cruising at the Midnight Sun, I agree to go back to Drake's place for "sharing."

While we are all sitting on the couch, Drake and Zack start kissing.  I lean over to kiss Corbin.

"Wait -- before the festivities, could I take a shower?" he asks.  "I came to dinner directly from the gym."

"Sure -- we'll be in the bedroom," Drake says.

While Corbin is showering, we go into the bedroom and take off our clothes.  I go down on Zack and Drake while they're kissing.   Then Zack goes down on me while Drake watches.

Corbin comes out of the bathroom naked, toweling off.

Very well hung! Uncut Mortadella+, already semi-aroused.

"Hey, I thought you..." I begin.

"What?"

"I thought your story was a way of coming out as small."

He laughs.  "I've never been accused of that before!   It was to make you feel at ease, to tell you that I don't mind that you're small.  Zack and Drake told me."

"Me, small?"  I exclaim, offended.  I push Zack's head off me and display my Bratwurst+.  "How's that?"

Corbin lies down on the bed and begins fondling me. "Hey, who cares about size?  Small ones slide down my throat just fine."

He goes down on me.  After a few minutes, we move to the 69 position, but I can't take him.

"Don't worry about it," he says.  "We regular-sized guys get that all the time."


Regular sized?

Well,  I am the smallest guy in the room.

That's the risk you run when you prefer the gigantic.

See also: Sharing the Bear's Boyfriend; Corbin, David, and I Hook Up with Brad Pitt; and The Edwardian with the Footlong

The Surprise in Comic Book Guy's Bedroom

Wilton Manors, April 2004

I like lost souls: shy, uncertain, newly-out.  I like to draw them out of their shell, show them the sights and sounds of the gay community, find the jewel in the rough.

Of course, sometimes it backfires, like with the Ugly Guy Makeover.  And Comic Book Guy.

I met him through a mutual friend in April 2004, a couple of weeks after the Worst Date in Florida History.  He did not look like Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons -- he was in his 30s, a little taller than me, with an athletic build, a hairy chest, wavy red hair, and a beard that for some reason got shaved off between our first and second dates.

Definitely a lost soul -- cute, but with passions guaranteed to turn off the horniest Cute Young Thing at the Manor.

1. Family.  Comic Book Guy was an an actual Florida native -- he had parents, brothers, sisters, cousins, nephews, nieces, and a 100-year old grandmother, all within a 20-mile drive.  In fact, 50% of his conversation involved an upcoming birthday party, graduation, recital, play, or something for some relative.

2. The other 50% of his conversation involved comic books: sizes, shapes, fine vs. near fine, the penciling styles of obscure artists, plot inconsistencies, anachronisms, crossovers.

 I read a few comic book titles -- some Ducks, an occasional Archie -- but I hadn't paid attention to the Marvel and DC multiverses for years.  It was...complex.  Infinite Earths, the Death of Batman, the rebirth of the Silver Surfer, The Avengers, the Justice League, crossovers, reboots...my head was spinning.

 Naturally, I accepted his invitation to the premiere of The Punisher, although I had never heard of the character.

Date #1:  The Punisher, then Chinese take out and back to his apartment in Oakland Park.

Comic Book Guy showed me his collection of comic books and memorabilia, including the letter he received from Stan Lee of Marvel as a teenager, when he complained about a storyline with the Hulk being nearly raped by two flamboyant gay stereotypes.  The notoriously homophobic Lee laughed it off.

We sat on the couch and listened to music -- yes, they were torch songs -- and kissed and groped.

Then abruptly, Comic Book Guy stood.  "Well, it's late.  Thanks for a nice evening.  G'night."  He practically pushed me out the door.

I gaped in surprise.  In Florida, you always engaged in physical intimacies on the first date. Occasionally a guy might want to "take it slow," but that required an apology, an explanation, and no kissing and groping. 

So I chalked Comic Book Guy down as "not interested."  But he called me the next day and asked me out again.

"Maybe his lover is out of town," my housemate Barney told me.  "He's waiting for him to get back, so you can 'share.'"

"No -- he wouldn't be kissing and groping me if he was waiting for a lover to come back."

"Maybe he didn't clean his bedroom," Yuri suggested.

"Well-- maybe.  But the rest of his house was spotless."

Date #2:  Indian food, followed by dancing at the Manor, then back to his apartment for more torch songs.  More kissing and groping.  I started undressing Comic Book Guy on the couch, but he moved my hand away. "Well, it's late.  Thanks for a nice evening.  G'night."

Wait -- you definitely always had physical intimacies on the second date.  I couldn't even think of an excuse not to.

"All I can think of," Barney said, "Is that he's a pre-op transsexual who doesn't want you to know that he's still got a vagina." (The term transgender was not yet common.)

"Hmm -- wouldn't you discuss that before the first date?"

"You should, of course.  But sometimes people don't."

Date #3:  Looking at cute guys at the beach, followed by a visit to a comic book store, an antique shop to find a gift for his brother's birthday, and dinner at the Greek Islands Taverna.

"I met a transsexual guy the other day," I told Comic Book Guy.  "Born female.  He was taking hormones to lower his voice, but he still had his female sex organs.  Very nice guy, very hot."

"I don't get transsexuals," he said.  "I mean, it's ok if that's your thing, but I'm a man who's into men."

Ok, not transgender.  Then why was he keeping me out of his bedroom?

Back to his apartment to watch The X-Men on DVD.  More kissing and groping!

It was time to push the issue.

"I'm too tired to drive all the way home," I said.  "I'd better spend the night."

Comic Book Guy looked doubtful.  "Well...I can set you up on the couch."

"Come on -- this is our third date.  You definitely, always, absolutely get into the bedroom by the third date.  Isn't it about time?"

"Well--ok.  Let's go."

He took me into his bedroom.  It was spotless.  But the air conditioner was booming at full force.  It must have been 50 degrees.

"I like it cold to sleep," he explained.  Then he turned on a cd player full of torch songs.

"Cold and noisy?" I asked.

"I can't sleep without music playing."

"Great -- always a good idea to get depressed before you drift off to sleep."

Then he turned off all of the lights.  With his room heavily curtained, it was black.  I could see nothing at all.

I hate utter darkness!  It makes me think that I'm blind!

"Um..couldn't we have a night light? What if I need to go to the bathroom?"

"Oh, no, I can't sleep unless the room is completely dark!"

"This is definitely not going to work!", I thought.

I could hear him taking off his clothes in the darkness.  Then he was taking off my clothes.  I hugged him -- more for warmth than for affection -- and we fell onto the bed.  He drew a thin sheet over us.

"Would you please turn down the air conditioner?  I'm freezing!"

"No -- I can't sleep with it hot."


"Then turn off the music!  It's depressing!"

"No -- I can't sleep without it."

"Well, can you at least turn on a light so I can see you?"

"No -- I like the dark."

I might as well make the best of it.  Sighing, I pulled down his shorts and reached for..

Something tiny.  Microscopic.  The smallest I have ever seen -- or rather, felt.

That was our last date.

I feel bad: Comic Book Guy probably thinks I dropped him because his size was inadequate.

No, it was because of his cold, dark, noisy room.

But wait a minute -- he never called me back.

Maybe my size was inadequate for him!

See also: The One Time a Guy Has Criticized My Size; The Darkroom Bait and Switch.

The Winner of the Biggest Penis Contest

Dayton, April 2008

When I was living in Dayton, I went to weekly M4M Parties hosted by a guy named Rode, held in the basement of his small, rather run-down house in the Oregon District near downtown. Around twenty guys, all sizes and shapes.
Activity consisted mostly of making out and oral, with occasionally anal (Rode had lots of picky rules about anal, so most guys just skipped it, or made dates for later).

One of my favorite regulars was Shawn, a recent graduate of the University who worked as a firefighter.  He was in his early 30s, taller than me, with a very handsome face, a smooth nicely musled physique, square hands, and a small uncut penis, about 3" soft.

He was primarily into kissing and going down on guys; he rarely let anyone touch him beneath the belt.

One day he did let me fondle him.  I was surprised to find that he didn't increase in size aroused.

Most penises grow from acorns into mighty oaks, nearly doubling in length (the average is 3.5" soft, 5.5" aroused). I expected Shawn to be at least 5" aroused.  But he grew to only about 3.5", just stiffening a bit.

"That's all that happens," Shawn said.  "Now you know why I don't let guys fondle me or go down on me very often.  They always get that look of disappointment.  I've even had guys change their minds at the end of the date, when we get into the bedroom."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.  "You're just the right size.  No worries about gagging or scraping it with your teeth."    I got on my knees and started working on him.  He threw his head back and moaned.

After that day, Shawn let me go down on him, but no one else.  He would go down on them, kiss them, fondle them, but his penis was off limits.

Even so, he was the most popular guy at the M4M Parties, always friendly and talkative.  He knew everyone's names, remembered autobiographical details, asked questions about their jobs and relationships.  And he always agreed to go down on anyone who asked, even the ugliest of trolls.

Besides, he often brought cookies or cupcakes to augment the off-brand potato chips and dollar-store Nutty Bars that Rode provided.

There were always special events going at the M4M Parties: Halloween and Christmas themes, Guess the Celebrity Butt, Bring a Straight Friend Night.  One day in April 2008 they had a Biggest and Smallest Penis Contest, with prizes of a giant Jeff Stryker dildo (biggest) and a plaster cast of Michelangelo's David (smallest).

"You should compete," I told Shawn.  "It will help you get over your penis insecurity."

"Or make me feel worse.  I've been self-conscious about my size ever since I came out.  Why would I want to win a contest that emphasizes it?"

"If you compete, I'll go down on you later."

He laughed and squeezed my shoulder.  "Big motivator.  You'd do that anyway."

"Half the guys here would do that, if you weren't so self conscious."

"Ok, ok, if it will get you to shut up and go back to making out."   He shrugged, excused himself, and went to sign up.

After about half an hour, Rode called for the guys competing for the Smallest Penis to come forward.  They stood in a line, and for two minutes anyone they wished could be a "fluffer," going down on them to make them stiff.  Or they could work on themselves.

Shawn didn't go up.

I nudged him.  "Chickened out, huh?  Well, I'll still go down on you."

"Promise?"

 When Rode called time, the fluffers broke away, and most of the contestants stood at full attention.  One began to shrink immediately.  Rode pointed at each in turn with a "fairy wand."  We had to clap for the winner.

The winner was a guy in his thirties with black curly hair, a short beard, and a hard hairy chest, who had about 4" aroused.  He made the rounds, waving, smiling, getting his penis fondled by the other guests.

Next Rode called for the guys competing for the Biggest Penis.

Five guys came up.  Their soft sizes ranged from 5" to 7".

"Would you be my fluffer?"" Shawn asked, taking my hand and pulling me up toward the front of the room.

Shawn was competing for the Biggest Penis?

A murmur went around the room.  Why was Shawn competing with guys who were twice as big, maybe three times?  What was he trying to demonstrate?  What was he trying to prove?  Maybe he was a grower -- but who grew that much?

I went down on him and worked as quickly as I could.  Shawn became aroused, bu there wasn't much I could do about his 3.5".

Rode called time.  Some of the bigger guys began to shrink immediately.  One lost his arousal altogether.  But Shawn was sticking straight out in front of him.

Rode pointed at each of the contestants in turn with his fairy wand.  Shawn was at the end of the line, still stiff, an iron rod.

He got thunderous applause.

Maybe because he was stiffer than the big guys.  Maybe because everybody liked him.  Or maybe because he had chutzpah.  But Shawn's 3.5" made him the winner of the Biggest Penis contest.

See also: The Bottom Named Rode; The Smallest Guys on My Sausage List.

Which Penis Will You Choose?

Here's a party game that we used to play in West Hollywood.  

Before the party, get nude photos of hot men of various ages, races, and penis sizes, one for each party guest.   One of the penises should be very small:

Paste them onto poster board so they won't get crumpled, and cover their sex organs with a large square of black construction paper, "hinged" so it can be lifted up.  Each square should be of identical size:

1. Decide who will be the Judge (typically the guy who made the photos).

2. The Judge passes out the photos to the players at random..  

3. During the next five minutes, they can keep their  photos, or trade with the other players.  Their goal is to get a photo of a guy with a penis that is the same size as theirs, using only the physique as as a clue.   

4. At the end of five minutes, everyone lifts up the tab and looks at their photo's penis.  If a player thinks that the guy in the photo has a penis the same size as his own, he demonstrates by pulling it out (he doesn't have to be aroused).

 If the Judge agrees, the player and his photo are out of the game.

If the Judge disagrees, the player suffers a "penalty" and stays in the game. (For penalties, I suggest a spanking, a grope, or a brief blow job, but they don't have to be sexual.)

5. The remaining players have five minutes to trade with the others and try again.  By the third or fourth round, everyone will have a good idea of what all of the photos look like, and plan their strategy accordingly.  Typically everyone tries to avoid the very small penis.

The Judge can be accurate or inaccurate in his evaluations.

6.  The last player remaining loses -- whatever losing means, after everyone has gotten naked and probably gotten groped.

See also: How to Host a West Hollywood Party.

The Glory Hole Bait and Switch at a Paris Bathhouse

Paris, June 2015

I've got nothing against small guys.  I'll gladly go home with either of these two, or both:

But I hate bait-and-switch.

The Bains d'Odessa, a gay bath house in Paris, has a series of alcoves with glory holes -- holes placed in the wall at penis-height.

One guy puts his penis through the hole, and the other goes down on him, "anonymously."

Some guys like the sense of fantasy -- the penis could belong to anyone you wanted.

Others want sex without going through the trouble of cruising.

Of course, it isn't usually anonymous -- the guys will usually scope out each other before beginning.

But sometimes you are walking by, and someone has already begun, pushing his penis through the glory hole in search of a taker.

One day I was walking by and saw this staring out at me.

One of the biggest I've seen in awhile, easily a Mortadella, uncut.  I estimated that the guy it was attached to was tall, tan, and hairy.

Naturally, I went for it.

After awhile, the guy began to moan and gasp.  Deep voice, very sexy.

After he finished, he pulled back. I saw him put on a towel.  He appeared at the entrance to the alcove, smiling.

A very attractive twink, thick brown hair, blue eyes, hairy chest.  Shorter than I expected.

He drew me into a kiss, but pulled away when I tried to grope him.

"You were very good," he said in heavily accented French.  His voice was higher than I expected. "My name is Ludek."

"Boomer."

"You will have dinner with me?"

We walked about five blocks to Flam's, a fast-food place that specialized in an Alsatian pizza called Flamenkueche, and talked in a melange of English, French, and German.

Ludek was originally from the Czech Republic, but he grew up in Hamburg, and now he was living in Paris, working on a graduate degree at the ECE, the engineering school.

"I don't go to the bath houses very often," he said.  "I am very shy."

"I don't understand why.  You are very attractive.  You must be approached often."

"No, not very often, and then only by guys who are desperate."

"Just take your towel off and go naked.  You are so big, you are bound to get many admirers."

He smiled coyly.

After dinner we walked through the Luxembourg Gardens and eventually made our way back to my tourist hotel in Le Marais, the gay neighborhood, where we kissed and groped for awhile, and Ludek went down on me.

Eventually we took our clothes off to climb into the bed.

He didn't have a Mortadella!  It was rather small, average at best!

"Wait -- you're not the guy from the glory hole!"

"Of course not.  That was my friend.  I was just fondling his rear as you worked on him."

"But...but...surely you realized that I thought it was you?"

Ludek blinked, confused.  "Why would you think that?  I look nothing like my friend."

"But I didn't see him when he went in the alcove! Or you, either!"

"So you saw only his penis," Ludek said slowly.  "But you saw all of me except for my penis.  Are you disappointed?"

"No, of course not.  You are very attractive.  But..."

To this day I think Ludek was lying in wait on purpose, using his friend's Mortadella to his advantage, out of a misguided belief that his penis was too small.

His friend, by the way, was not really my type.

See also: The Smallest Guys on My Sausage List; the Darkroom Bait and Switch.

The Smallest Guys on My Sausage List

About 25% of the men in the U.S. are small, with 5" or less, but you rarely see them.

They hide behind a towel at the gym.

They don't go to bath houses or M4M Parties, or cruise for hookups.

Their dating profiles online say 7".

Once on the date, they'll make extra sure to win you over with their wit, money, or physique before even considering dropping their pants.

Here are the smallest guys I remember dating. graded by:
C: 4.5 to 5.5" (11.5 - 14 cm)
D: 3.5 to 4.5" (9 - 11.5 cm)
F: Under 3.5" (9 cm)

Remember, this is just one grade on their report cards.  They might have a B+ for intelligence, a B for charm, a B+ for physique, and for bedroom performance, an A+.

And, to avoid embarrassment, I'm not including anyone who I am still in contact with.




College

1. Joseph, from the Gay Student Union at Indiana University.  He was very popular, so we didn't actually date, but we did hook up the night we saw the ghost in his grandmother's house.  C

West Hollywood

2. Dr. Bartan, the Most Conservative Professor at USC.  It took me months to land a date with him.  C

3.  Chehay, the slim, soft survivor of the Pol Pot atrocities in Cambodia, whose drag queen Aunti Bopha cornered me at Mugi in an attempt to marry him off.  C.

4. Ryan the Dwarf, with whom I had the worst date in West Hollywood history (not for that reason). C

5. Will, the Bondage Boy with the Sweeney Todd fetish, who lived in Silverlake.  He was into vore (fantacizing about being eaten).  But he wouldn't have made much of a meal. D.

6. Ramon from Barcelona, of Chinese ancestry, but he didn't speak Chinese.  He was, however, fluent in Catalan and a promoter of Catalonian independence.  We had quite a heady political conversation for a hookup. C.

New York

7. The Unhung Hippie who talked nonstop, mostly trivia and nonsense.  Yuri wanted to hook up with him, assuming by his height, hands, and feet that he was hung.  I tagged along to make sure the hippie wasn't an axe murderer.  Even worse: regrettable beneath the belt gifts.  D


Florida

8. The Teenage Hitchhiker that David and I picked up.  An 18-year old from Canada, he wanted to go as far south as he could before his freshman year started in the fall.  C

9.  The Guy in the Darkroom at the Club in Wilton Manors.  In a classic bait and switch, the penis at the hole was huge, but the guy whispering "Do you have a room" was not.  He had rather a pencil stub.  F.

10. Comic Book Guy, who liked to kiss on the couch, but refused to go further, until finally I insisted that I be allowed to spend the night  Resulting in the discovery of his extra-extra small beneath the belt gifts.  But that's not why I didn't see him again.  F

Ohio

11. Shawn the Firefighter in Dayton.  Nicely muscular physique, disappointing beneath the belt.  He said that guys sometimes changed their minds at the end of the date. D

12. Carlos who had 3 secrets.  One, he was a superchub (his ad said "a few extra pounds").  Two, he had a hot boyfriend.  Three, his sausage was so small that I couldn't even find it.  F

Recent

13. Ludek, who performed a "bait and switch" at a bathhouse in Paris, sending in a guy with a gigantic Mortadella+ to draw attention away from his Vienna sausage.  C.

14, The Transman and His Angry Inch.  Turns out that I read this Philadelphia college boy's ad wrong.  He hadn't transitioned beneath the belt yet.  What he had was lady parts enlarged by testosterone treatments into an angry inch.  F

15. My First Grindr Hookup. AKA the boy who had never been kissed.  Other things, but not kissed.  So that was all he wanted to do.  I wondered if he was another Comic Book Guy, but he was just a little small.  C.

16. Ricky with a Y, or should I say Ricky with a C.  This was just a couple of weeks ago, but I'm pretty sure I won't be introducing Ricky with a Y to my parents

The Only Time A Guy Has Criticized My Size

Dayton, October 2005

I'll admit that I like them big -- #5 on the list of the Traits I Find Attractive is a Kielbasa+++ beneath the belt.  But small ones have their benefits.
1. No worries about your teeth getting in the way.
2. "Sure, go ahead and top me.  No problem."
3. They're extremely sensitive.
4. They're always a surprise.
5. Guys with small ones tend to have low self-esteem, regardless of their other qualities, and it's fun to work on building them up.

The biggest drawback is: they don't take off their pants easily.  They hide behind a towel at the gym.  They don't go to bath houses or M4M Parties, or cruise for hookups.  25% of men in U.S. have 5" or less, but you never see them.  Only the whoppers are on display.

The small guys never see other small guys, either. Leaving them to believe that they are even smaller.  Making them less likely to display it.  And so on, a vicious circle.

I've only been with a few guys in the 5" and under category, and almost never for a hookup.  Sharing here and there, a date once in a while.

I dated a firefighter in Dayton who was about 3.5"  He said that sometimes guys changed their minds and left the moment he dropped his pants.

One of the M4M Party regulars measures at 4.0", and that's being generous.  But he's not at all self-conscious about it.

Comic Book Guy in Florida was attractive, and into kissing, but he wouldn't let me in his bed for a long time.  When I got there, I found out why: an angry inch, maybe two.  That wasn't the reason we broke up, though.  His sleeping arrangements were just too weird.

The smallest guy on my Sausage List was Leronne, the ex-boyfriend of my boyfriend Charlie, the high school football coach.  One night Charlie invited him along on our date, to have dinner and hopefully "share."

"He's shy," Charlie warned me.  "And he's very self-conscious about his size, so don't say anything."

"Please, I'm not that rude!" I exclaimed, offended.  "How could I fault a guy for something he has no control over?"

"Just kind of build him up, praise him for how nice it is.  Pretend you want him to top you."

"Ok, fine."  I was wondering just how small this guy was, to require building up even after you have agreed to go to bed with him.

Leronne was an African-American twink, mid-20s, short, slim, light-skinned, with a lithe, non-muscular physique.  Not exactly my type, but close enough.

We had dinner in Yellow Springs, the hippie enclave -- Charlie was too closeted to be seen anywhere in Dayton.

 This was the 2000s, past the era when coming-out stories were standard parts of dinner conversations, but Leronne told me his anyway.  Growing up in southern Ohio, feeling isolated and alone because he was attracted to men, because he was black, and because he was "puny."  He hated gym class because guys would always laugh and point at his puny package in the locker room, call him a "girl" and a "fag."

"But it was even worse when I came out." he continued.  "Guys were all like, 'Come on, hottie, let me see your giant sausage,' and when I pulled it out, they like lost interest.  I was afraid to even go to the gym."

"How did you end up with a football coach?" I asked.

"I always liked them big," Leronne said with a smile.  "Big muscles, big package.  No Princess Teeny-Tiny for me."

"Double standard, huh?"  I thought.

We all agreed to the sharing, so we returned to my apartment, sat on the couch to "watch a movie," and started getting intimate.  Leronne was a good kisser, but reluctant to strip.  Both Charlie and I were naked before he unbuttoned a button.

Finally we took him into the bedroom -- he insisted on leaving the lights off -- tore off his shirt, and unzipped his pants.

Average size, maybe even a little bigger than average.  Nothing to get all ashamed of.

I pretended excitement.  "Wow, what a monster!  I hope you're a top!"

He was actually a bottom.  Charlie and I double-teamed him for awhile, and then I lay there while Charlie finished up.

I woke up at dawn.  Not wanting to wake the others, I put on a bathrobe and sat at my desk to work on my computer.

After awhile, Leronne got up, said "Good morning," and went to the bathroom.  "Got a spare toothbrush?"  he called.

I went to show him.  My bathrobe hung open.

He stared.  "What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're so small!"

"That's...um...you know, it gets bigger when you're with a guy."

"I know, but last night you were like,  huge..."  He spread his hands in a fish-catching gesture.  "And now you're like...that."

"I'll have you know that I'm in the A Category in the Horseman's Club in Amsterdam," I said, getting angry.  "No admission fee.  I'd like to see you get anything higher than a C!"

"Sorry -- I didn't know you were sensitive about it.  I'm not into size, anyway.  C'mon, let's go wake Charlie up."  He bounded back into the bedroom and climbed atop Charlie -- who also got bigger when he was with a guy.

Weird how even being accused of smallness can sting.

See also: My Two Boyfriends; The Truth about the Black Penis