Dick Week, Last Day: I’m Gonna Praise You Like I Should

Last day of Dick Week!  As promised, I saved the best entries for last, and I only wish you could have seen me gyrating against my countertop when I read what these phallic experts had to say.  I’m going to cut through the bullshit, and get right down to it.

“I used to be into big cock, but each boyfriend I’ve had throughout the last decade has just gotten smaller and smaller and smaller...currently at the smallest. I thought it was a curse at first and named myself president of the Small Dick Club. But!  Now I’m all about small penis. Wanna know why?  Because I can suck it for dayyyys.  I can suck it like a champ porn star cuz my jaw never tires.  He looks as me as if I’m the goddess of head, which I am (with small dicks). He does anything for me cuz I suck his cock every single day – with passion. And since pleasing my partner is where over half of my sexual satisfaction comes from, it’s a no brainer. Everybody wins!  An added BONUS is that my twat shrunk back to its original virginal size, and being tight comes in handy especially when we're away from each other and sexting is all we got. Those close-ups down there look more like an 18-year-old twat, and less like a torn-up roast beef sandwich.  As for those times when I just need a good STUFFING, well, I bust out my rabbit and just make him suck on my tits so he doesn’t feel left out, bless his heart.”

Oh my god, THAT IS BRILLIANT!  This chick seriously trumps everything that Descartes or L’Amour or Bulgakov or Vonnegut ever wrote, and wins the Best Writer of All Eternity Award.  Plus, I didn’t even realize until now how much more dick I sucked back when I didn’t care if guys’ peens were the size of my thumb!  I forgot I didn’t have any problem with it back then, and now, I’m forced to reevaluated my feelings about cock as a whole.  Onward march.

“As a gay man with a painfully average penis, this world can be a cruel and sick place. With so much emphasis on 'the bigger the better', we average guys can be left feeling less than average. I mean every girl, gay and occasional cock-sucker loves them a nice 8-10 incher, angling slightly upward as if trying to reach for the heavens.  I've got a 5.5 inch pocket-rocket that looks like it’s looking down at your tits, if your tits were on your knees. I mean it’s not the end of the world – plenty of men are average – but the problem is I am a ‘top’ as well, which means I like to dish it and not take it. For this instance, having a 8.5 heaven seeker would be preferred to my roto-tiller. Average penises are meant for bottoms. Here they are next to useless – they are not the main course. You’re just getting drilled without an afterthought about that forgettable member. So I've learned to adapt with a strong tongue, and even stronger personality. Good with my hands and can make you laugh. It's like when you lose one of your senses, the others grow stronger. Don't get me wrong, I would give anything to have one of those dicks, that when fully erect, leaves you light-headed, in exchange for my bubbly personality and ability to hold my breath. But maybe it’s a hidden blessing:  if I had a big dick and six-pack abs, I'd also have AIDS by now!  So the next time you are feeling underwhelmed by your man's member, just give it some extra love: He could use the attention!”

Wait a minute, everybody.  I think this guy’s probs gay.  He probs likes RuPaul’s Drag Race as much as I do.  He probs likes Delta Werk more than I do because he disagrees with my assessment that Delta believed too much in that whole lame Heathers thing on Season 3.  And (as you’ve probably already gathered from everything I’ve written this week) he’s probs much better at blowjobs than I am.  Beyond all that, I think this guy is really pinpointing what most people have had to say this week:  It SERIOUSLY matters not what size you have, but how you make up for it.  Just about anyone out there can really fulfill anyone’s sexual needs if they just simply care about what they’re doing.

Before we get to our final entry of Dick Wick, let’s check in with Bill P:

THAT clip has been used once before on this site, and will probably be used again and again, over and over, until Raggle Rock is just a little old rotten roast beef sandwich because I love it so.

 Anyways, I chose this entry to be the last because it’s the only submission that actually addresses the sickening objectification I’ve been slinging around for the last week.  It comes in the form of a letter to all of us girls that think BIG DICK is the end-all-be-all of our sexual existence:

“Dear Horny Mathematicians,

Hi.  Long-time fan and first-time member. To you RaggleRock, I SALUTE you (wink and pun intended). To get the balls rolling on this topic is more titillating than it is needed, but I like it. I actually love the voices of the daring and the stumped.  The women of the sack unite...on men. To fill is to feel as to thrill is to...(fill in the blank). I get it.  The ownership of being at the receiving end of our sexual warehouse has sent self-esteem levels through the vaginal roof.  That's not to say it isn't a well-deserved confidence that comes inside of knowing the dimensions of a package shipping. It is the right of the woman to hold the yardstick and clipboard if the men are willing to line up for Dick Week...so to speak.  Somehow, the reader in me can't help but to picture all of the anonymous authors of these posts together at a round-table, eating their fingernails trying to recall the last time they really got the treatment from a true throb-kabob.  I can picture cute bums bouncing faster and faster atop big, pink posture-balls as some of their best lovers pop back into mind and onto the intercourse interweb.   Thank you for that by the way.

I'm a sexual human in and out and with or without.  One who can see the romance of peering into the stories and fantasies of thoughtful people, and then coupling them with action packed instincts.  Turning the tables on gender by treating our dicks like toys helps to make sense of the human ability to locate and stretch sexual thresholds, albeit in exchange for a tiny bit of intimacy. Cheers to you scientists, defense attorneys and product testers out there that dare to share your knob-notes.

Before I offer up a dick joke to stop the Raggle hard from banging her largest of erogenous zones into her smallest of computer parts, I lay knowing this...that the naked guns of love and war, the anatomical MAK90s of the night, will never be banned in this regard.  The act of sizing-up gives hope to the animal kingdom that the average can't fuck with the normal.  And that for every hard slug there is a warm hug waiting to judge. What an honor for both of us sexes.  Don't worry Hobbit Dicks, you got them talking about it. It matters not that a small unit gives a sucker a big head.

I truly do love that blogging and flogging have shared the floor of your work, Raggle Rock.  You do know how to whip us into a post hump-day frenzy, Dick Week or otherwise.  I feel like I know you. We should meet.  But for now, I'll simply keep my eyes peeled for ‘Clit Week’.

Sincerely,

Strapped

P.S. Here’s my joke:  Why does your peniz look so big when fucking a 14-year-old?
Because it’s just a kitty cat, and in human years, they are only two.”

To that joke at the end, EWWWWWW.  The fuck is wrong with you?  To the rest of the letter, I’ve got a lot to think about while I masturbate tonight.  Like, what planet did you learn how to write like that on, and can I come visit????  And, what are you packing, homeboy, wanna meet up????  No????  Damn you. 

So, as a Springer final thought, anyone that sees me on the street and wants to call out Dick Week for being as obnoxious as The Sweetest Thing and Sex in the City (you know, like a horrendously played-out trope about women’s obsession with cock) you should just go ahead and do it because you have a point there.  I’d rather die than be coined as Ms. Utah Carrie Bradshaw, I don’t always have dick/sex on my mind, and this site has never been meant to be a place for hos to dish about and bash men of all shapes and sizes.  NONE OF THIS IS AN APOLOGY, mind you.  I’m happy with what I’ve done, and I honestly give a flying fuck that even my own sister unfriended me on Facebook because of all this.  I just want all the boys and girls out there to know that while I’m aware there is a much larger conversation to be had about how unhelpful reverse-chauvinism is, my blog doesn’t care about that conversation unless I say it does.  What I write on here is solely meant to entertain you for a few minutes before you clock out on a Friday afternoon.  With that said, here’s a HUMONGOUS THANK YOU to the participants and readers that made me cry tears of joy over peen this week.  I hope we can all do projects like this again soon.  Just the idea of it makes me wet.

Dick Week, Day Four: A Few Cons about the Ultimate Pro

Day Four of Dick Week!  I’m gonna start off this penultimate post by saying that reading everyone’s submissions has been a BLAST.  I doubt I will write much about dicks in the foreseeable future (seriously, this stuff is messing with my dreams – last night, I dreamt I was flying in an airplane, and my in-flight meal was a mustard-covered penis in a hotdog bun, and all my teeth fell out, and then the plane went down), but I’m really warming up to the idea of having more contributors on the blog.  If you think you’ve got the chops to regularly get bitched out for arbitrary (and inaccurate) grammar rules by Ms. Editrix over here, email me and we’ll talk.

Anyways, before we get to it, Dolly wants to talk to you:

Dick Week, Day Three: We Suck What Will Destroy Us

Onto Day 3 of beloved (?) Dick Week!  I am writing this post in the midst of a panic attack, so while you’re reading this, if you suddenly start shaking and need someone to rub your temples very softly for the next three hours, I’M SORRY.  Panic attacks are the honey badgers of the blogging world – they don’t give a fuck about deadlines.  Anyways, I am so goddamn happy that some ladies of 801 saw penises, laughed at them heartily, and then shared their thoughts on everything from dry-humping to deep-throating.  Yaaaay, women!  We’re like the lampreys of men’s self-esteems – we are cold-hearted suckers. 

Before we move on, let’s calmly water our peace lilies and watch the girls from The Hills for a second:

 Ahhhhh.  It’s like I’m one with the world now.  (I wish I created that gif, but I didn't.)  Let’s get to it!

Dick Week, Day Two: Medic…Seck Ett.

You want wang thoughts from fellow Salt Lakers?  Fine, you got it.  (Oddly enough, no one submitted one dick joke.  Not one.  I banged my head against my laptop a number of times in despair because I WAS COUNTING ON THOSE!  Oh well.  That’s what I get for giving everyone a whopping three days to come up with something.) Tonight, I’m letting guys do all the talking…except for me…because I can’t stop talking.

Anyways, let’s get to it.  As Kenny Powers would say, “If that’s what it takes, then a c-c-cockin’ dream it will be sucked upon.”

Dick Week, Day One: Oh God, I'm Stuffed.

Happy Dick Week, everybody!  Since last Wednesday, I’ve been collecting all sorts of people’s thoughts about the significance of penis size, and let me tell you, the participants didn’t disappoint.  Also, because life isn’t fair, I’ve ordained myself the general overlord of this whole conversation by grouping all submissions into lazily selected categories, and snidely commenting on each of them.  While most posts this week will have several entries in each of them, this first one was such a stand-alone riot, that it deserves to kick off the open ceremonies all by itself.

So!  Let’s get to it.  As RuPaul would say, LET THEM EAT COCK.

“I suppose I could tell you for the most part that every guy that claims to have a giant dong will talk about it incessantly, and rave about how amazing it is, and write odes that are as long as a Steven King novel about it has ended up having a laughably small penis. Those guys also end up not being good in bed and suck at foreplay, but somehow manage to get alllll of the blow jobs because they are ridiculously easy to give without doing jaw exercises first.

In that same instance however, every man who has been down on his poor little penis and constantly complaining that it is not that big, becomes a nightmare to sleep with because during sex all they are asking you about is if their cock feels good inside of you and if it is an okay size, and if you say yes, they tell you that you are lying (because you are lying) What are you supposed to say? "Sorry it's small, but if you just keep fucking me and shut the hell up for five seconds I probably won't care?"

AND then you have the guys that are super "cocky" and sleep with every lady on the planet and always talk about all the play they get, and even though you tell them that if they wanna be your lover they better not get with your friends, and you decide to sleep with them out of sheer sickening curiosity, you come to find that they are realllllllly good at giving oral sex and it is to compensate for their very sad lack at ANY other skill that has to do with sex. They generally have very small to medium sized dicks.

In the large wanger category, it is a win/lose situation. BJs can only be given if you are able to separate your jaw like a snake about to eat a baby pig, and positions can tend to be limited due to comfort's sake.

However, I prefer the larger wanger due to the fact that even though I don't hate giving blow jays, it's not a favorite past time of mine, so I get a free pass on that due to the sheer terror they have of me accidentally scraping their dick off like a drunken bicyclist falling onto the pavement on the way home from the bar. Also, they are amazing at foreplay by making sure the lady gets her comeuppance first due to limited sexual positions, and they are confident in their big wanging skills in bed. That, and you never get the "How is the size of this monster" question, they always have an orgasm – like all men do – and then both parties lay back in bed panting heavily, light a cigarette, and don't burn the house down while passing out with it in their hands due to the new safety measures they have placed on cigarettes.

That being said, I am a Huey Lewis girl.”

Bahahaha! I guess I should tell you all that I 100% agree with this anonymous ho in virtually everything she’s said. I LIKE ‘EM BIG TOO.  It is absolutely wonderful to just look up at a guy from the floor with teary eyes that plead “Please don’t make me suck that Anaconda, I might die,” and get a completely understanding (albeit frustrated) look in return. 

Plus, the truth about the sex positions!  Preach girl.  While the idea of spinning and spinning, faster and faster on top of a dude’s piece is so wonderful, it really isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world when you’re dealing with a massive schlong.  As you’re riding him, you start to think scary thoughts like, “Shit, is he puncturing my duodenum?”  No good.

One more word to all those guys that lie about their dick size:  DO IT.  Your chances of humping on me (at least once) dramatically increase if you lead me to believe I’m about to get some colossal man-pole.  The look of disappointment won’t come until after you leave because I’m polite like that.  But seriously!  What better way is there of getting in the door – so at the very least, you can prove how amazing you are at eating a bitch out – than by lying to her?


And now it’s time for your gratuitous Clueless scene:

 

Life is Hard, Guys!

Next week is Dick Week at Raggle Rock!  All week, I'm going to be posting my friends' thoughts about the importance (or lack thereof) of penis size.  I've gotten several people on board already, and if you'd like to be involved (through TOTAL ANONYMITY, by the way), send me a submission before this upcoming Monday, March 25th.  You can do it through Facebook or just email me.

Anyways!  While you're peeing yourself in anticipation for the BIGGEST event of the year, treat yourself to a video that makes me piss myself in sorrow:

I love her mom.  I wish she were my mom.

Health Tips from Raggle, Part I: Tan Hard or Die Trying

Salt Lake City has earned itself the nasty reputation of being one of the healthiest cities in America.  This is wrong.  We are not California.  In this new installment, I’m gonna work hard (but not workout) to give hope to all those degenerates who believe that life without Whole Foods, Zumba dance and sunblock is still worth living! 

(For those of you that find malnutrition, cancer, death, and terrifying STD tests sticky subjects, please take all this advice with a boulder of Himalayan pink salt, and continue on sanitarily masturbating to Dr. Oz.  Also, doooooon’t get mad at me if my guidelines give you frown lines.  That just means you’re doing it wrong.)