I've seen the charts on the Internet and listened to enough sex advice shows to know, my dick is not any larger than average nor smaller. I've never had a partner complain about size and in spite of the fact that, sure, it'd be cool to swing a bigger bat from time to time just for fun, I don't obsess over the size of my erection.
Having said all that, I do need to report that I'm a grower, not a show'er. My biggest complaint about going through that huge scanner in the TSA line at the airport is not the abuse my civil liberties take, but the fact that I can't seem to get at est a reasonable chub in my pants as I lift my arms over my head and wait for them to take a picture of my dick. And let's face it, you know that's the only gun they are looking for. On women, they are just looking to see who has fake boobs and pierce labia. On men, all they are looking for is a guy with a huge dick, a tiny dick, or that person who forgot to remove the butt plug before trying to board a flight.
This was one of the reasons I hated shower time in gym class. Oh sure, I got the benefit of looking at all my friend's dicks (something I've always enjoyed), but my own junk never seemed to cooperate and the shrinkage left me looking less than adequate in the wiener arena. And it isn't like it would be a smart move for a freshman in high school to say, "Hang on guys, let me just get a boner and you'll see, I'm a grower, not a show'er."
I go a call from the doctor yesterday afternoon asking if I could please run out to the hospital to take some x-ray's of my lower body for a procedure I'm having next week. I left work and raced over, got to the technician I needed to see and put on the super tight surgical shorts they had. I could not sit down, they were so tight, for fear of splitting the backside.
The tech was a fairly cute lady with a streak of gray hair - I guess that's the fad now - and I joked with her that my shorts were super tight. She laughed and as we walked to the xray room we made flirty small talk. And then it hit me. They were going to xray my lower extremities and probably get a glimpse of my shrinky-dink. In fact, I don;t think my dick could have clung closer to my body if I had been in an ice box.
As she instructed me on the placement of my feet in order to get the best shot of my knees, I kept thinking to my self, "Boner, boner, boner!"
"Hold still, please." she said with a smile.
I stood there and watched the machine scan my body from the toes up to my thighs. There was hope, perhaps the film would not catch my private parts. Either way, when it was all over and she escorted me back to the dressing area, I was sure to mention that it seemed rather cold in the xray room. You know, just in case.