Hi everyone, My name is…Dee Dawning and I’ll be writing the blog for Midnight Seductions on or about the ninth of each month.
For those who scratch their collective heads and wonder who the h*ll is Dee Dawning, here is a thumbnail. I live in
Back to the blog. Sometimes what I write will be serious and sometimes I may be a little silly. For my first blog, I’m going to be serious. Well, almost. My subject is the male response to the eternal women’s question, ‘Does Size Matter? Are you ready?
Does Size Matters to Men?
Size has been debated among women for hundreds of years, maybe since Adam and Eve. (Eve used to talk to Adam’s other ribs) So I thought a little input from a male perspective might be in order. Yes, a lover should be thoughtful, adventurous, imaginative, have good technique, etc. and proper sized equipment to satisfy his partner.
I’m an average male with average equipment and an over-average imagination. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want to be a freak, but an inch here and an eighth of an inch there would be fine with me.
Now, Mother Nature, in her infinite wisdom not only didn’t make all peni$es alike. She also didn’t make all vagin@s alike. Ladies, I ask you, does it make sense that an average woman with an average size vagin@ can’t be satisfied by an average size peni$?
Case in point, a former wife (deceased) divorced her first husband because he was too big. Let me repeat that—not too small but TOO B-I-G. So obviously, there can be a downside to being upsized. However, like in Goldilocks, my average sized peni$ fit just right.
So ladies think about this. If you feel the men you have sex with are undersized, is it really them or you? Could the wondrous, dainty and little tunnel of love, between your legs not be so little after all? In reality might it be the size of Carlsbad Cavern?
For Rachel, sex isn’t dirty; it’s a celebration of life. Rachel Cooke doesn’t give it to just anyone, but once she does, she enjoys it to the maximum, so prepare for the sexual experience of your life.
Rachel, can’t help but notice the luscious man sitting next to her at the bar in Pokey’s restaurant and lounge. His name is Scott and he seems preoccupied. When he starts mumbling indelicacies about Reverend Robertson and someone named Carol, Rachel’s innocent question appears to set inevitable romantic forces in motion.
They go dancing and as the evening progresses, so does their attraction. It’s evident they desire each other but Rachel has issues. It’s not obvious, but Rachel has a mixed race background and after just ending a disastrous relationship with Lester, her agent, she is not about to get close to anyone without laying her cards on the table. When Scott casually remarks that like her, he too, is only interested in getting to know her and if she happened to be sitting naked next to him, he wouldn’t lay a hand on her. She takes him up on it.
This leads them to spend a sexless night, fully naked in her Hilton hotel suite, a test of his resolve and character. Scott has no idea of the sexual adventuress that lies beneath Rachel’s demur, delightfully perky persona and after a wet hot passionate interlude in the shower, the following morning, all hell breaks loose and they wind up making love everywhere. Even in the depths of Hoover Dam.
In closing here’s a couple one liners from the late, great Rodney Dangerfield.
A girl phoned me the other day and said "Come on over, there's nobody home." I went over. Nobody was home.
“When I was a kid my parents moved a lot, but I always found them.”