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Size Matters (Sometimes) by Venus O’Hara

One of the coolest things about living in a touristic city like Barcelona is that quite often I will receive a message on social media from someone from one of my past lives. They are usually contacting me to tell me that they are coming here on holiday and that they would love to meet and catch up.

I remember when one guy that I went to uni with contacted me a few years ago. I had always quite fancied him, but one of my friends ended up getting there first. Even though it was just a one-night stand between them, I considered him to be off-limits because of the girl code. But seeing as she was married now, I figured that she wouldn’t be too bothered if I had my turn. It was only fair.

Interestingly, she did disclose one piece of vital information about their night of passion that was particularly motivating: he had a ridiculously huge schlong. This detail made him even more appealing to me.

I was going to meet him on a hot Saturday afternoon in a restaurant by the beach. When I spotted him waiting for me, he was just as attractive as I remembered. Just imagining how the night could end was more than enough to make me twitch. We greeted each other and we caught up on life while sipping sangria. We ended up staying the whole afternoon.

I hadn’t had sex for a while. The prospect of enjoying a huge cock belonging to someone I was already familiar with and who didn’t live here seemed perfectly safe, easy and ideal for a commitment-phobe like me. What could possibly go wrong?

Nostalgia, sangria and the Mediterranean summer breeze was a cocktail that seduced us both. One thing led to another. We ended up kissing in the sea and when he suggested going back to my place, I remembered that my bedroom was a mess. He was staying with friends, so going to his place wasn’t an option. Despite my urgent desire, I decided that the circumstances were less than ideal and that he should come to my place the following day to finish off what we had started.

I assumed that he would bring condoms. According to my experience, most guys have their own tried and tested brand and I would never assume to know someone’s penile preferences. At least that is what has always worked for me. In addition, if his cock was as big as my friend said it was, he would probably need special ones.

The next day, I made sure that my bedroom was impeccable. As I lived in a shared apartment, I had informed my flatmates that I would be getting up to no good that afternoon so that no one would disturb me.

When he arrived, I showed him around my apartment with its views of the Sagrada Familia. He was incredibly impressed and said it was the best view of the city that he had seen that weekend. I was determined that he was about to see a much more interesting one - in my dark box room. Once there, we proceeded to get naked and make out with fervent passion on my single bed. I was able to verify with my wandering hands that he was indeed massive! It made me even hornier when I imagined what it might feel like inside me.

‘Have you got any condoms?’ I asked as I held his throbbing cock. I was dying to take things to the next level.

He shook his head.

Well, I did have some, I conveniently remembered. I had two in an old cosmetic bag. The first one didn’t even go over the bulbous head of his engorged member. In fact, it bounced right off, hit the wall and ended up on the floor somewhere.

I gave him the second one and exactly the same thing happened.

‘They’re so tight…,’ he said.

‘Fuck!’ I exclaimed with frustration.

I even put my dressing gown on and knocked on my flatmates’ doors. They didn’t have any either. I wasn’t going to give up. I had spent hours cleaning my room, spent months without sex, and I wanted to get my money’s worth so to speak.

‘Let’s go to the pharmacy.’ I said.

We got up out of bed, dressed and went to the nearest pharmacy. We were giggly, red-faced but determined. When we arrived, there was a long queue that consisted of people with sniffling summer colds and other non-emergencies. I was convinced that my physical needs were more urgent. Even though I’m a sexpert these days, I was always shy about buying condoms in the past. I always got my boyfriends to buy them. But now, I was going to have to ask for them as my uni friend didn’t speak Spanish.

I felt nervous and self-conscious with my out-of-bed hair and smudged makeup. And if that wasn’t enough, I was going to have to request a packet of XL ones!

The pharmacist tried to keep a straight face, but she was clearly amused by it all. Especially when I had to repeat ‘XL’ a few times and everyone in the queue found out.

My friend paid and I managed to avoid making any more eye-contact during the transaction. We then made our way swiftly back to my place. We couldn’t stop laughing over the condom incident.

When we got back, our clothes quickly fell to the floor and we carried on precisely where we had left off. He was hard as a table leg in no time at all and I went down on him. I was always proud of my elaborate oral technique, but this time it was too good. Within moments, he had ejaculated all over my clean sheets.

‘Sorry,’ he said over and over again.

‘It’s ok, it doesn’t matter,’ I lied. Of course, it mattered, I thought to myself. No amount of apologies could make up for my profound disappointment.

There was no time to repeat or to carry on. He had to leave and go to the airport, taking his brand new, unopened packet of XL condoms with him. I imagined that he would inevitably use them with someone else in some other city.

Oh well.

These days, I make sure I have an extensive selection of condoms available.

Because size matters (sometimes).