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  1. Dan93 – howdy! You’re a young buck. Through the years, you’re going to have girlfriends, believe me. Girls will be your friends. Not all women have x-ray vision, haha. That is, women cannot see through pants. So unless you’re walking around naked, no girl will know that you have a small dick. How do I know? Because I have a dinky dick. It has never stopped me from having a girlfriend. Showing them your dick is not a requirement, so she’s not going to know. I know you’re not searching for help, just letting you know…I was in the same situation as you at one time. And look at me today…all happy and accepting the way I am. So has my someone special. Peace. J
  2. Thanks, Mardis and Senior. It was a pretty refreshing experience - it changed the way that I think about myself. I've had exes in the past make fun of the size of my dick. Which, pretty much, explains why they are now exes. I'm happy. It functions. If they have to make fun of it, that's their problem - I could make fun of the way their brain functions.
  3. Greetings. I'm a latino, 38 years old, went to college for Psychology and today I work in accounting (go figure). When I was in the third grade, one of my classmates found me taking a leak in the restroom. Even back then, I knew that I had a small dick…and it totally didn’t bother me until this point in my life. Granted, boys in the third grade aren’t physically developed, they all got peanuts. But even my peanut was dinky! My “friend” pointed and laughed and said it: Hahaaaaa! You got a dinky dick! From then on, I felt self-conscious but at peace. So I had a small dick…there was nothing I could do about it! It’s not like guys earn their size by doing noble deeds, practicing, working out or by any other form of discipline. We got what we got! It’s like God lined us up, blinded us, and had us walking through the factory of body parts. I got a chest most guys would KILL for. I have nice, broad muscular shoulders that I’m proud of – I look amazing in a tank top so summer is my favorite weather. But, alas…when I walked by the dick-bin with my blindfold on, I grabbed a small one by chance. God wouldn’t let me put the dinky one back in exchange for a deluxe model. He said you reach in, and you get what you get. So here I am. There was a point in my life when I felt ashamed of my cock size. But here’s the thing: I have never had complaints about the size while it’s erect. I’ve gotten compliments on how I use what I have. So once the engine is primed I can cruise with the best of them. Limp? That took some mental work on my part. Even with my degree in psychology, I struggled. I remember a boy from high school named Matt. Back then, we had to shower together military-style as a part of our grade. I never hid my dinky dick in high school, because (like I said) there was nothing I could do about it. After tons of research, I came to realize that I suffered from buried penis syndrome. Which means that my penis pulls back inside of my body when it’s limp. A couple of other guys in high school had this as well. They didn’t seem ashamed. And nobody was supposed to look at another guy in the showers, that was gay. But Matt…oh my God, that boy was blessed! I remember looking at him close in the shower one day and admiring his penis (not in a dirty way). It hung there, about seven inches of it, I swear. It swayed with the gravity. And Matt’s expression on his face when he saw guys checking out his penis was nonchalant, the same as mine! We got what we got, that expression said. You got to be happy with what you were given. Through the years, I learned…Matt went bald right out of high school. I still have my full head of hair. He got a gut that just grew over the years. I can still fit into my size 32’s. My face never wrinkled over the years. He looks like someone grandpa today. All prove…yes, we got what we got. Out of desperation, I started experimenting with weights (bad idea). I ordered gimmicks in the mail, vice-like contraptions that you screw tight around your dick so that you could hang weights. These are dangerous, you don’t know the horrors. Don’t do it. Eventually, I constructed my own wearable penis weight that looked like an actual penis. It was MY turn to be Matt, haha! I took the thing for test spins…public showers, nude beaches, etc. I loved the bug-eyed stares that I got and the extra attention! Never before in my life had I felt an actual penis swinging between my legs while I strutted down the trails of a nude beach with people stepping aside to watch me walk past! But in the end…I came to realize that I am happy with my own skin. This is me! This is what I am. I’m not going to look at my feet and cut off my toes to go a shoe size smaller! I’d never cut off my legs to change my height. My penis is mine, it’s a real living part of me. Like my hands, my fingers, my eyes. I have learned to accept it. Maybe one day, people will give me that same bug-eyed look because I have size 11 feet. But until then…I’ve seen both sides of this (having a little one and wearing one the size of a porn star). I’ll take myself as I am. Ya know? That’s my introduction – peace. J
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