Sizing Him Up

I wasn't as obsessed by all this as you might be thinking - apart from anything else, I identify as being straight - it was just interesting to work out whether there were any grounds to accept what Carol had said. Scientific curiosity, you know.

And in any case, doing medical examinations on predominantly fit and healthy students day-in day-out was piss-boring; not really the sort of ground-breaking stuff I'd hoped for when I'd started my medical degree. The cock size thing was something to pass the time, I guess.

A guy would come in, full of himself and making snide comments about junior doctors not looking as overworked as the press were reporting or some such crap, and I'd think, "Four inches, tops. His arrogance is a front to hide his sexual insecurities."

But then he'd pull of his briefs and out would flop something that looked like it belonged on a donkey.

And I'd think, "Well there's another theory that turns out to be a load of crap, Wallace..."

Or someone would come in, confident and polite. Eyes fixed on mine, strong handshake, all the right signs. And I'd be thinking, "This must be a good one... seven or eight inches... maybe more..."

He'd gradually develop a hard-on while I examined him, apologising profusely for his cock's misbehaviour, and it would hardly be able to find its way out of his bush. A needle in a haystack.

And I'd be wondering if Carol had just been winding me up all along; that there simply was no way to estimate something like that from a guy's manner.

One evening I made the mistake of mentioning something about it to my girlfriend, Helen. After a half-hour interrogation about why I'd been "talking dirty", as she put it, with Carol, she eventually declared that she thought the whole thing was ridiculous.

A conclusion I was rapidly reaching myself.

"Anyway," she'd said, "you've always claimed you think size is irrelevant..."

"I do. I'm not saying I think bigger dicks are more or less attractive than smaller ones... I was just interested by the idea that some girls are able to judge."

"Sounds like the usual crap from Carol, if you ask me..."

"So you can't judge, then..."

She snorted in irritation. "Like you say, Seb, to any reasonable person it's not important. If all this is some convoluted way of getting me to compliment you just because you had the hormones to develop a bigger-than-average knob, you'd better try a different tactic..."

I'd shrugged. "I don't need compliments about something that I had no control over..."

"And I think you need to spend less time with that daft cow..."

I'd had to suppress a smile when I thought of the number of times people had given me the same advice about Helen...

Her mention of hormones got me thinking, though. It was true that testosterone was important in the growth of a guys' cock during his teens; might not other things controlled by testosterone, like the depth of his voice or the growth of hair on his body, give a clue as to his cock size?

A nicely-dressed, well-groomed guy came in for a medical; clean-shaven, short-back-and-sides, tailored suit. He was a law graduate, applying to become a junior partner somewhere important-sounding. Contract to be signed pending a satisfactory medical examination; the usual story.

When he undressed down to his boxer shorts, I was surprised at how hairy his arms, chest and legs were: his rugged, masculine appearance, as he stood there in his underwear, was such a contrast to how refined and polished he'd looked in his pinstriped suit.

He'd said, as I pressed the end of my stethoscope through the thick, coarse hair on his chest, "You must get sick of the sight of naked men..."

His voice was deep and rich.

I muttered, "Yeah... I suppose... could you try and breathe normally for a few seconds?"

As I listened to his heartbeat, I noticed how thick his arms were. He didn't look like he worked out much - his waistline wasn't fat, but it was a little more flabby than it should ideally be - and yet here were muscles that made him look like a bricklayer.

He said, "Any problems?" Again that deep, silky voice.

I shook my head. "All pretty normal so far..."

It looked like this guy was pumped to the gunnels with testosterone. He had hair almost smothering his chest, arms and legs; had a voice that sounded about an octave lower than mine; and had a set of muscles that would look respectable on a weightlifter. The hormone was almost oozing from his pores!

I walked round to stand in front of him again. "Could you take off your shorts, please?"

He smiled. "The moment you've all been waiting for...!"

I felt myself blush a little; I was feeling rather eager to see what lay inside them.

He pulled down his shorts and, while he was bending to pull them over his feet, looked up at me sheepishly. "I'm sorry about this... medicals have always had this affect on me... ever since I was a kid, I dunno why..."

It took me a moment to realise what he was talking about.

Then I saw that his cock was erect.

It was difficult to make it out, though, among the dense bush of his pubic hair: it must have been little more than three inches long from base to tip. The mushroom head of it took up about half of its length; the stem of it was about the size of a cork.

I muttered, as I pulled on a rubber glove, "Don't worry about it... it happens to a lot of men..." Then: "I'm going to check your scrotum for hernias or tumours... could you stand with your feet about a foot apart?"

He adjusted position and, when I moved to stand in front of him, I realised that, in contrast with his cock, his balls were enormous. They hadn't been obvious until then: the thick growth of hair on his scrotum, coupled with that on the insides of his thighs, had almost completely concealed them.

I reached out to hold them and they felt like a couple of eggs rolling around inside the wrinkled sac of his scrotum.

His cock started throbbing and swelled to its full size; maybe three-and-a-half inches long. A small bead of precum grew like an inflating balloon on its reddened slit. I could see that his cock urgently needed some attention: I wondered if he would nipping straight into the gents after his examination for a quick wank.

I was thinking, "Jeez... fancy a stuffy-looking guy like this, a lawyer, having a fetish for medicals..."

I said, flatly, "Cough..."

After the examination was finished and he was getting dressed, I figured that big balls must produce bucket-loads of testosterone, making a guy muscular and hairy and the rest of it, but that cock size obviously wasn't determined by that.

"Another theory bites the dust", I mused.

It was a week or so later that I made something of a discovery.

A guy came in for a check-up and during the routine 'Are you having any medical problems you'd like to discuss?' session, he'd nodded and muttered the time-honoured chestnut, "But it's a little embarrassing..."

He was an athletic-looking guy, slim and well-built, with an angular but handsome face. His hair was a dark auburn and he wore small, silver framed specs.

He described that his foreskin wouldn't retract fully over the head of his cock when he had an erection without it feeling extremely uncomfortable.

"I sort of try to pull it back," he said, demonstrating the movement with his hand on an invisible cock in front of him, "but it gets about a centimetre or so over the head and it's like... well... it's like it's too tight or something..."

I nodded, not so much interested by what he was saying, which sounded like a fairly common condition called phimosis, but more by what his hand was doing in the air. The invisible cock he was handling looked like it was huge.

He went on, "You know how when you wank... you sort of do this...?" His hand made a masturbatory motion, his fingers and curled around an invisible stem as it swept up and down. Again the imagined cock seemed especially large.

I didn't want this to turn into an exchange of techniques between us, so I stuck to a neutral: "I understand that's how most men do it..."

"Well, I have to do this... kind of..." Now his fingers gripped the stem without moving, and his thumb rubbed against what I assumed was the tip of the invisible cock's head. Like before, the size was quite remarkable. "The other way's impossible..."

I realised that if I was gesturing something about my cock to someone, I would, without thinking, curl my hand into a shape that approximately fitted my normal size. This guy, if his hand was betraying the dimensions of his cock, was extremely well built.

He rested his hand on his thigh and went on, "It's never been a problem, having to wank like that. But it's almost impossible to have sex. It hurts too much..."

I noticed his hand would occasionally move to follow what he was saying, as most people's do, but that it kept returning to the shape it had made when he'd described how he masturbated.

And I suddenly realised that mine, resting on my own thigh, was curled into the shape it makes around my own cock when I wank.

I said, "I think I'd better see it. Do you want to get undressed?"

He nodded and stood up. "You'll want to see it hard...?"

"I think so."

When he pulled down his trousers, I could see immediately, from the large mound in the front of his white briefs, that he possessed a bit of a monster.

I thought, "Hard already... that didn't take long..."

But when he pulled his briefs down, it turned out that, despite its already impressive size, it was completely floppy. It hung down over his average-sized balls, looking about seven inches long and quite substantially thicker than mine gets even when it's fully hard. His foreskin completely covered it, making a puckered mouth at the tip of its large, bulbous head.

He said, smiling slightly, "I'll play with it to make it hard..."

"Yeah..."

He took it in his hand - it slapped into his palm like a piece of meat - and began working his bell-end through the foreskin with his thumb, in the same way he'd just gestured. He didn't seem especially embarrassed: I think I'd have turned a shade of beetroot if I'd had to stand naked in front of a guy I didn't know, masturbating myself to full erection.