The huge-penis dilemma

Most people figure I spend 23 hours, 55 minutes a day having sex. Well obviously, yes, I am a massively popular superhero with a chiseled chest, a pet dinosaur and a battery-operated stone club that vibrates at supersonic speeds. What more does a chick want?

To be perfectly blunt, if you're talking just raw numbers, the number of chicks that Wilt Chamberlain allegedly bagged in his entire life is a slow week for me. But enough stating the obvious, this here blog is about a far more pressing and depressing issue.

For me, "morning wood" is like waking up in bed next to a humpback whale, because that is approximately the size of my erect penis. In the morning I cannot fit through a doorway for my morning piss unless I think about Rosanne Barr for 10 minutes or do a crossword puzzle.

What this means is that, though I can score more ass than a toilet seat, that doesn't translate to anything more than two thrusts per chick, because by then they are so ravaged they needs to be rolled out of my cave on one of those big flatbed carts you use at Costco to push around 50 pound bags of rice. So in reality, lots of Xbox-nerds with tiny penises actually probably have more sex than me in terms of duration because they can pound their ugly girlfriends for hours without the girls even feeling anything.

A little food for thought.