The Hardest (Working) Man in Showbiz by Ron Jeremy Page B

“Okay, fine,” I said. “But not here. Let’s go someplace private.”
    I led her into the bathroom.

    L et’s back up:
    Eleven years earlier, I was just another teenage boy with a very large penis and no idea what he could do with it.
    I didn’t always know that my dick was on the larger side. I assumed that I was a little larger than average, give or take an inch or two. I didn’t have much basis for comparison, save for occasionally showering with other guys after gym class at school. And then the black dudes seemed to have the advantage. It wasn’t until I started dating that I realized the size of my schlong might be in any way big.
    Mandy was the first to tell me. Well, she didn’t really volunteer the information. I had to finagle it out of her. Not long after we began seeing each other seriously for the second time, I was in her bedroom while she was talking on the phone with one of her girlfriends. In the middle of their conversation, Mandy covered her mouth with a hand to keep me from overhearing. Normally I had no interest in her girly chats, but the secrecy had piqued my curiosity.
    “What were you whispering?” I asked after she’d hung up.
    “None of your business,” she said, her face going beet red.
    “Come on,” I prodded. “You can tell me.”
    “I really shouldn’t.”
    “Yes, you can. What were you whispering?”
    She hesitated. “Promise you won’t get mad?”
    “I won’t get mad.”
    She smiled feebly. “I told her that we were dating again and that I was glad because I loved your big dick.”
    It took me a minute for this to sink in. “Excuse me?”
    “You’ve got a big dick, Ronnie. Don’t act like you don’t know.”
    I didn’t. “It’s really big?”
    She laughed, though I wasn’t trying to be funny. “Are you kidding me?” she said. “It’s like Godzilla’s penis. Trust me, Ron, it’s very, very big.”
    I had her repeat it a few more dozen times, just for good measure. A guy can never hear a thing like that enough.
    I was on top of the world. I had a big dick, and a girlfriend who was willing to go on the record saying as much. Who could ask for anything more? Little did I know, however, that this valuable bit of information was only the beginning. In just a short while, my entire world was going to change.
    During the summer of 1968, I went to the Ten Mile River Boy Scout Camp in upstate New York. It was a camp for urban kids, and it was exactly what I needed to burn off some steam. For an entire month, I did nothing but canoe and ride horses and swim with my friends. Sex was the last thing on my mind.
    But one morning, when I was alone in the cabin getting dressed for a hike, I made a startling discovery as I leaned over to tie the laces of my boots.
    I could kiss it.
    I didn’t actually kiss it, of course. I just touched my lips against the crotch of my pants. But I knew exactly what it meant. If I was naked, I could have…well, you know. I sat there for a minute, marveling at my newfound ability. I had never tried anything like this before, but it was remarkably easy. I just leaned forward and my mouth was buried in my own lap. Could every guy do this? I wondered. Was there something wrong with me? Was this dangerous for the back, even?
    I immediately ran to the nearest pay phone and called my dad. I explained everything to him. He listened intently until I finished, and then took a moment to collect his thoughts.
    “Is anybody in the room with you right now?” he asked.
    “No, I’m alone.”
    “Well,” he continued. “I suggest that you don’t tell anybody else you can do this. They might think it’s a bit strange.”
    “Should I be worried?” I asked, my voice cracking from the panic.
    “No, no, no,” he said calmly. “It’s not bad at all. It’s just…well, a little unusual. It’s not something everybody can do.”
    “Would they want to?”
    “How do you mean?”
    “If everybody could do it, would they want to?”
    He paused and