Peter's Little Peter

I Just Called To Say... Um

Whatever confidence I had in Elroy's lab deserts by the time I return home. I've been looking at my phone for the past two hours, typing out and deleting a series of messages to Audrey. I want to sound casual, like Han Solo when Leia says, "I love you," and he replies, "I know." But I'm just not sure how to get that level off coolness across in a text message.

It probably didn't help that I measured before trying to text Audrey. I thought it would boost my confidence to see a slightly bigger penis, but what I saw was the exact same penis. A baby carrot that just can't compete with the cucumber I know Audrey wants.

Of course, with my baby carrot in my hand and my mind on Audrey, I did a little more than measure. At first, I thought rubbing one out would help me clear my mind, focus on what I would text Audrey. But the more I stroked, the more my mind drifted.

I was watching a porn video where a woman in a nurse's uniform was giving a patient a blowjob. For some reason - it was never quite clear in the plot - the man was there to donate sperm. But I guess he was having trouble, and so that's when the nurse came in to help.

And that's when my trouble started. Because for some reason, whoever directed this porn clip did a close-up of this guy's massive dong. And then they cut to the nurse's reaction, and she said something like, "Wow."

Then she dropped to her knees, took the dude's massive dong in her right hand, and began to lick up and down the shaft of his penis like it was giant popsicle.

That's when I glanced down at my own dick. But I couldn't see it, because my dick is so small that it disappears in my hand whenever I jack off.

Suddenly, this terrible image popped into my head of my dick lost in Audrey's hand. And the more the woman in the porn clip stroked the man and moaned about how much she loved his big dick, the less confident I felt.

I still finished.

Of course.

Because you have to finish what you start.

But as I erupted in my hand, all I could think was that if Audrey ever gave me a handjob, she'd only need to use her thumb and her finger to stroke me off. Trust me, that's not an inspiring thought you want to pair with an orgasm.

Maybe that's why I'm reluctant to text Audrey. Because I know that if I text her, she'll agree to go to George's party with me. And if we go to the party, we'll have a great time. And if we have a great time, we'll end up making out. And if we end up making out, I'll eventually get her bra off, and she'll eventually get my pants off. And then everything will go to shit.

So, I type out a message, delete, and repeat.

In theory, this can go on until I run down my battery. But fate intervenes before my battery dies. Actually, maybe it's not fate. Maybe it's just my clumsy fingers.

After typing out and then deleting a message for what feels like the thousandth time, my finger slips and I glance the Call button. The screen reads:

Calling Audrey...

Right away, my heart starts pounding, and I can feel a cold sweet forming on my forehead. I want to hang up, but Audrey picks up on the first ring. Who does that?

"Hey Peter, long time no talk."

"Um..."

There's a painful pause. Actually, painful is an understatement. The pause is excruciating.

"Peter, are you there, or is this a butt-dial?"

"I'm here," I say. "This is me talking, not my butt."