The Teeniest Weenie of All Time
Since I wrote last about Tom’s ginormous johnson, I thought it apropos to stay on topic and regale my readers with a story about Tom’s polar opposite. This is a tale about the smallest penis that has ever entered my body.
Enrique and I met when I was a very young girlie, waitressing at a Mexican restaurant. He was a busboy there, and when I met him I’d thought for sure the restaurant was breaking some kind of child labor law. He looked to be about 16 years old.
It turns out that he was well above the legal age to work – although he wasn’t exactly working in this country legally if you get my drift.
More importantly, when I first laid eyes on Enrique I immediately began to salivate, perhaps visibly and audibly. He had one of the most beautiful faces I had ever seen in my life. And I found out later he had a body to match.
He looked very much like Enrique Iglesias, except my Enrique had green eyes and more well-defined abs. He is easily one of the top three hottest guys I’ve ever had.
I had a boyfriend at the time, so my drooling after this little busboy didn’t amount to much. We worked together for a few months in a very professional manner. Well, as professional as you can be working in a place that sells chimichangas.
Then one day he asked me if I ever got tired of having sex with the same person over and over again. He was also in a relationship and said he was bored of having the same “meal” night after night.
My boyfriend and I were on the rocks and our sex life had soured some time ago. I admitted it was no longer exciting, but that’s the price you pay to be with someone you love.
For the next several weeks, Enrique and I engaged in what I convinced myself was “harmless flirting.” He was my busboy, so by giving me massages in the bus station (where we keep glasses and stuff), he was just being a good assistant.
One evening after all the customers had gone, he grabbed me and shoved his tongue down my throat near the chip warmer. He then took me outside and we made out next to the dumpster with the smell of stale refried beans wafting through the air.
This all happened so fast I didn’t have time to think about my boyfriend. But I’d been starved for affection that I wasn’t getting from him. Enrique lifted up my shirt to examine my torso and let out a manly groan of approval. It felt glorious to be wanted again, and he made me feel sexy.
We ended it there, but the next night we worked together, he offered me a ride home. We got into his van (yes, his van) in the parking garage and started making out. He began to rip off my pants in the passionate, aggressive manner Latin men are known for.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I was about to cheat on my boyfriend. My mind told me to stop but I didn’t. And Enrique was way ahead of my mind.
Oh my God, I am going to rot in hell for this. What shall be my punishment for this sordid, selfish act I was about to commit? A second later, I found out.
As fast as he got my pants off, he removed his… and there it was not. I couldn’t believe what I wasn’t seeing. I’ve no clue the expression that was on my face, but I imagine it was something like this:
The irony was unbelievable. This model-hot Latin lover with the Adonis body had a ding-a-ling the size of a zit on a bad day. I honestly didn’t know they came that small.
I wondered if he had a rare disease that permanently arrested the development of his pee-pee at age eight. Or if God tremendously fucked up and put a pinky where his penis should be. Because without exaggeration, that is the best estimation of its length and girth – a pinky. My pinky, not his.
Before I could flick it away he was inside me, and I didn’t feel a thing. I got more pleasure when he fingered me, because at least then he used his middle finger.
As I lay in bed that night, I could’ve sworn I heard the Universe laughing at me. Ha ha, good one, U. I broke up with my boyfriend shortly thereafter.
I’m fairly sure Enrique told some of the other busboys, because they all started being extremely nice to me after that night. I found the entire experience to be mortifying, but at least my customers got speedy water refills and plenty of fresh chips and salsa.
So what is your teeny weenie story? We’ve all got ‘em. Let’s hear it!