I wish everyone could know the pain I live with every day of my miserable life. Alas no, statistics tell me that only 1 in every 30,000 adult males has a penis less than 4 inches long and 2 inches around. Only they, my wee wienied brethren can even begin to understand the hurt I feel when I step up to a urinal and the stream of urine is only slightly smaller than the 3.28 inch long, 1.67 inch wide wanker from which it trickles.
I have tried pumps, creams, exercises, pulling, begging, pleading and god forbid; even praying. Nothing works, not even marginally on my miniscule member. So, everyday I try to lie to the world about possessing a petite pecker by peeling out in my Corvette, strutting around in expensive suits, talking about my mansion, dating strippers to show the world my virility and constantly crowing about my colossal cock.
But my Armani suits are just expensive costumes to hide my teeny-tiny tallywacker. My gigantic house is where I sit alone with my dwarf johnson. And the truth is the only thing I can stretch when it comes to my freakishly feeble frankfurter. Day in and day out I used to ask myself, "ROOUTE66, what would jesus do with a small penis?"
After hours of reading the bible, searching my soul and peering at my puny prick, I know now that there is no savior, at least not for my snack sized sex stub.