“No, it’s true, I swear it. He says one time he pulled out and there pronged on the end of his Johnson was her spleen. He said he felt like some kind of Nubian Birth Canal Spear Fisherman.”
She laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth to stop from spitting out her drink.
“Personally, I think he exaggerates for effect. But that’s pretty compelling imagery, if you ask me.”
“So it’s true then, what they say about black men?”
“You’ve never been with a back dude?”
“You’re gonna have to research that one on your own Ms. Shawshank. I got no data for you.”
“You didn’t have gym class with black guys in high school?”
”Sure, but you weren’t supposed to look.”
“But did you?”
“The only thing I noticed is that most of them weren’t circumcised. I figured it was a money thing, couldn’t pay for the little extra procedure. They were all bussed to my school from a ghetto. I’ve never heard of any black culture thing where they need to keep their foreskin.”
She finished her drink and gestured to the bartender, a black man, for two more.
Lance hadn’t noticed the shift change in bartenders had resulted in an accompanying change in pigmentation.
With new drinks in front of them, Linda pressed on.
“So, why would there be all these stories then? They can’t all be attributed to some mythological thing.”
“Ask one of your girlfriends. Surely one of them has gone over to the dark side.”
“But what about your friend, the fisherman?”
“One oversized Johnson does not a survey make.”
“Okay. Is this guy seeing anyone?”
Lance just laughed. “He’s married. To a white woman. Happily married.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“Alright Linda, tell me. What is the fascination with size for women?”
She looked at me and realized I was serious. She blushed, but held my gaze.
“To be honest, I think women like the IDEA of a big dick, more than the actual living missile. They do hurt, you know. With women, it’s the perception that a long schlong equates to strength, power, and excessive manhood. It’s much more of a visible turn-on, when a man first takes his pants off, or even better, if we undress him, and out pops this stealth bomber. It’s incredibly arousing. Then we realize where he’s gonna put it, and some of that arousal wears off.”
Lance nodded and sipped his drink.
“Does this make you feel insecure?”
“No, why? I’ve had a spleen wiggling on the end of Little Lance, don’t you worry sister.”
They both laughed.
“I think,” Linda said, winking at him, “that men are more concerned about it then women.”
At which, Lance raised his arm. “Check please!”
© Copyright 2016 Bill Rayburn. All rights reserved.