Sunday, April 27, 2008

I Need to Talk About Frank's Penis

We never mentioned the size of his penis. It was there before us, thicker than it was long, a little stump of a thing, so wide that the condom barely stretched to fit around it. I'd never seen a penis like it, and, yes, I had seen many penises. He took off his jeans and there it was and there was nothing to be said about it, this little mushrooming of flesh.
We paused, Richard and I. The sight of it broke our rhythm. We were used to the routine with each new lover. I would be there first, the comfort of the familiar, female flesh pressing and touching and licking my way across the stranger's body. Richard would follow the path that I had cleared for him. Richard was alway more gentle than I, easing our lover into the idea of the two of us together, one after the other, my rough urgency, Richard's gentle patience.
Now with the sight of this penis, I faltered. Uncomfortably wide. It was as thick and oversized as something that Robert Crumb might draw in his pornographic comics, but hacked off short like someone had taken the scissors to the thing, some furious girfriend, jealous wife, keeping the better part of it as a trophy.
We didn't mention his penis. Richard found the lubrication, gentled the man, what was his name? Frank. That was it, Frank. Eased Frank up behind me. The thing felt like a fist, pummeling, butting up against the resistance of flesh. Without the lube it would have been impossible, and yet, with each breach of the battlements, there was a quick retreat, little fist, pounding away like that. I was too startled to find any kind of pleasure. When it was done, Richard eased him away from me and I watched him change the condom, gentle Richard, slipping the thing on with his teeth like a whore might do. He learned that one from me and he had mastered it. I watched the stretch of his mouth. No chance of a gag-reflex this time. I wondered how he could do it with a penis like that. It must be like suckling some limb that has been amputated. I felt terrible for even thinking that way.
Afterwards, when Frank left, grinning, touching, kissing too eagerly at the door, we didn't mention his penis. I sat with my cup of tea cooling in my lap and wondered if he even knew how startling it was. How did men get a sense of proportion anyway? It was easy for me, easy for Richard too, to measure one against the next in the cup of our palms. I had no preference, as long as the thing was not big enough to tear me. Smaller gave us more options. More room for play.
I wouldn't call Frank's penis small. Huge, from one perspective, and barely there if you saw it from a particular angle. I wanted to talk to Richard about it but it is difficult to discuss the size of a man's penis.
"He has a good sense of humour." Richard nodded, sipping, curling back into the lounge chair. His own penis had subsided now and lay like a fat and sated worm in his lap.
"He had a particular cologne. Expensive. Did you smell it?"
There was the fact of his penis between us and yet we were talking about his cologne.
"Yes." I lied, "Very nice."
"And a particularly nice shirt. Good taste. Frank has good taste."
It was impossible to mention his penis. Richard talked about his shoes and his underpants and the way he danced and somehow, reducing the man to the size of his penis seemed petty to me.
"Yes," I said, "he was a good dancer."
"I'd like to see him again." Richard smoothed the little piece of paper out on his knee. There was a telephone number scrawled across it. His number. The man with the little fist of a penis, what was his name? Frank. Frank's little stub of a penis. Already I couldn't remember the way he danced or his cologne or his underwear. All of it obliterated by the blunt fact of his penis fisting into me.
"I think we should invite him over for dinner."
I nodded, calm, when all of me screamed out, 'didn't you see the size of his penis?' and 'penis, what about his penis!'
We didn't talk about his penis. We finished our tea and lay politely side by side on the king-sized futon with enough distance between his back and mine so that we would never need to mention Frank's penis.

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