Vman has just had his, and Acidman laments the loss of some of his member’s functionality; All of which leads me to reminisce about one of my earliest encounters with the Littlest Og.

Potential spew alert.

In grade school, there is always one of those kids; you know, the kid who, at six, knows more than some teenagers, and mine was Randy Barnett. Randy spent a lot of time talking sex, about which he appeared to be the resident expert.

One of the topics of discussion was always rubbers, those magical devices which allowed you to have sex with anyone, or so we were given to understand. In fact, it wasn’t even sex, if you had the rubber on, which was why the Church was agin’ it. Randy sure knew his stuff.

Anyway, one day, on one of my trips through the medicine cabinet looking for some of the bandaids which were my daily staple, i found a package of finger cots.

Y’all remember finger cots, right?

cot.jpg

Anyway, I looked at these things, thought to myself, these must be rubbers. Cylindrical in nature? check. Closed on one end? check. Rolled up like a sock? check. These were rubbers! In my own home!!! Sheesh.

So, I thought, I’ll check these out. I grab one, and slink off to the backyard, a clearing in the middle of four pines we kids called “our fort”. I struggled, squeezed, slipped, shot that finger cot all over the yard, before coming to one inescapable conclusion.

My dick must be HUGE!!!!! I’m SIX and I already can’t wear the rubbers my DAD uses.

I spent a whole year under this delusion, and then, discovered a REAL condom wrapped in it’s tinfoil package under the seat of a car my dad bought from a neighbor. Shit, I could put my foot in the damned thing, and I’d have had to tie a rubber band on it to keep it on my six year old willy.