I am a size queen.
I admit it: I like large men.
In fact, more than that, I adore large men and when faced with one, will quite happily swoon (and drip) in their presence.
Penis size however, I really couldn’t give two shits about; as long as the owner of said cock knows how to use it well, then the fact that it’s large or small makes no difference to me whatsoever, (though for the - ahem, anal amongst you, who will no doubt point this out unless I do so first - you can also read a more detailed analysis of my thoughts on cock size should you want to).
No, my size issue is different altogether. It regards the main three aspects about a man (besides the face, eyes and arse of course) that grab my attention, and make me go weak at the knees:
Now, my liking of these things is not a fetish, but it is fair to say that they all form part of the (somewhat prejudiced) requirements that I have when it comes to my being attracted to a man.
Regarding his height:
I am not being discriminatory against short men for sexual reasons - I have dated men shorter than myself in the past and been fully satisfied. But given my dominating personality and brash self-confidence, it takes a lot of a man to make me feel like all girly and shy and delicately submissive. Being with someone whose sheer physical presence – his height – overpowers my own size, leaves me feeling like a smitten-kitten, curled up safe in the arms of her protector, or being made to meow for her dinner; either way, purring loudly.
So I need my man to be taller than me: the taller the better, 6’ minimum. I want to feel that I am small and timid and girly, rather than big and strong and dominant. I want to get a tired neck from leaning up to kiss him; I want to have to reach above me to caress his face; and I want to have to stagger about in 5’’ heels in order to feel his cock between my legs when we embrace.
Regarding his hand size:
It is a total myth that there is a correlation between hand size and cock size – I know, I’ve been running my own personal survey for more than a decade and have had my previous assumptions about the two proved very wrong. But regardless of cock size, for me, a man must have large hands: small ones not only do not turn me on: they actively turn me off.
Now this is partly due to the big “man-hands” (as my female friends put it), that I myself have; my un-dainty, non-fragile-looking, large hands outsize all the female hands that I encounter and, quite often, male ones too. And I have an issue with this – insecurity if you will. Similar to my not being able to shag a man whose breasts were larger than my own (large ones), how could I feel all girly and sexy when his ‘petite mains’ looked dainty and delicate next to mine?
But there is another reason for my hand-fascism: when I see a guy with large hands, I can only think of one thing: his lovely long fingers inside me, filling me up. It’s just not the same with short stubby fingers. Sod having a big cock, I want big fingers to fuck me. I want to feel that he owns me with his hands; that when his fingers are inside me, it feels like my pussy belongs to him. And that when he motions with his forefinger to ‘come hither’ that it means exactly that: get your arse over here Girl – you see these big digits? They’re going to stroke you until you drench my hand in your juices. Who ever thought that just beckoning me towards them would make me wet? But it does.
Regarding the size of his feet:
I have one rule here. It has nothing to do with wanting his toes inside me, wanting a large kick on my butt, or licking his feet (though possibly the first one might be interesting to try, now that I think about it). Nor does it have anything to do with cock size, penetration, or anything else sexually related.
Rather, it comes down to this: because I have annoyingly large feet, my rule is to never date a man with feet smaller than my own. Shallow I know. But since I am a vain cow about such things, in order to make my feet look small, dainty and feminine, (which lets face it, is every woman’s objective when she is wearing a pair of stilettos), my partner has to have damn huge feet.
No-one, I repeat no-one, is going to make this Girl feel like a fucking massive duckfooted-boat-impersonating-heffalump.
Though I suppose that if he were 6’4 with massive hands, I might make an exception.
But he’d have to be really good in the sack.
And not try on my shoes when I was out at work.
[The casual sex debate will continue again shortly with Why Fuck Buddies Are Not Friends That You Fuck]