November 2002

Dear Jane,

Please, please, please don’t call me small! I am four inches hard. Is this really considered tiny? If you think so, then you’re not the only one . . . The other night my friends and I were all really drunk and playing strip poker. Lady luck wasn’t with me. . . The girls there started making comments the minute my pants were off. It got worse when my buddy dropped trou and I could see his flaccid cock was bigger than mine is erect!

The girls at the party had a good laugh at my expense. I must’ve looked ridiculous to my buddy. So now I guess I’m realizing that four inches hard is small. How could I not worry about my size, when women care so much about it? Now I know why I have so much trouble with certain positions (doggie and spoon) during sex; my cock just isn’t big enough to reach. I have to say I am very embarrassed right now and I can’t believe I even told you. Would you be disappointed if your partner had a four-inch cock? Please be honest.

Teeny

Dear Teeny,

Ahhh, anxiety rears its (small) head yet again at the gnarly root of manhood. You poor boys. How do you cope with the angst of not knowing whether or not you size up? It doesn’t matter, I tell you! The women at the party were laughing because they sense this is your vulnerability. Women wouldn’t pay attention to the size of your equipment except for your own obsessive focus on it. It’s the motion, not the meat. Period. I honestly wouldn’t care, Teeny, if my partner were four inches erect, as long as he didn’t mope about it 24/7 (or ever, actually). You remind me of women who constantly insist they’re fat, so much so that everyone they know starts identifying them as fat even if they aren’t.

I feel as though I roll out a new size survey every month. This time let’s dispense with a litany of raw numbers. The dogged reporters at ABC News tell us on their web site that the average penis is about the size of a Nestle Butterfinger (unwrapped) or a grande (medium) cup of coffee, with the sip lid, at Starbucks. The Peabody Award-winning news organization further reports that most men range in size between a Twix bar and a Peter Paul Mounds (with the wrapper extended).

Notice that the small coffee is called a tall at Starbucks, the medium is named grande, and the word vente is reserved to describe the magnificence that is a large cup of coffee. Starbucks does have a very small cup size, but it doesn’t even rank a mention on the menu. One asks for it, one assumes, quietly and with head hung low.

The next time you invite a lady out for a latte, Teeny, consider the modest contents of your trousers only briefly . . .then pony up to the counter and impress her with your coffee order.

Dear Mistress Jane,

Help! I think my puppy has a panty fetish! I have a six-month-old Labrador retriever, and it seems he has developed a liking for my worn panties. He loves to sniff them, carry them around, and play with them. He will pull them out of the laundry basket and gleefully run throughout the house with them. (Thankfully, my mother-in-law has not been around when this has occurred.)

Should I be concerned? Is this just a “passing phase” in his life? Have you ever heard of anything like this in all your research? Will he be demanding stockings and garter belts next?

Please hurry an answer as things are getting worse. Last night after my ballet class I came out of the shower and there he was . . .his nose in the crotch of my ballet tights.

Mom of Panting Panty Pooch

Dear Mom,

Your letter reminds me of man’s best friend—his dick. Which itself is much like a doggie, isn’t it . . . always happy and eager to see us women show up to play.

Relax, mom. I’ve had boyfriends more panty-focused than your puppy. And more difficult to train, although the techniques are basically the same.

When you discover the randy little one with his head buried in the crotch of your worn panties, a loving thump on his cute nose and an index finger waved in his face should send the message that you will not tolerate such misdeeds. But, of course, he’ll try again. So the next time you find him squirreling away a pair of panties fresh from your ballet class, cup his chin in your hand as you remind him in a softly spoken yet firm tone of voice that you’re the boss. And mean it.

Trust me; he’ll love you for this much-needed training. It’s not a passing phase; only strict training will break a panty-luster. Once he starts to shape up, reward him with a daintily worn pair beneath his sleeping pillow one night. He needs to know, after all, that you love your naughty little panty pooch . . . and that his best friend will be occasionally blessed with your attention.

Good afternoon, Jane,

I just finished reading your research on lingerie fetishism on your site. It was interesting to read the different stories about how most of the men you interviewed had an event early in their lives that triggered in their subconscious a sexual fantasy that has stayed with them and still gives them their most intense orgasms. I think I prefer this sexuality of the mind; it’s a shame that the fetishists have fantasies not approved by open society. What is accepted by society at large, it seems, is so base (not to mention banal).

As a young boy my earliest erotic memory was Disney’s “Snow White,” when Prince Charming was chained to a wall helpless and kneeling before the wicked queen. A close second was the scene in “The Graduate” with Anne Bancroft sitting on her daughter’s bed in just her panties and bra tempting Dustin Hoffman. This led to my lifelong desire for older women.

In fact, I think “The Graduate” is one reason I enjoy my office job on a subliminal level—I’m surrounded by desirable, older women. I’ll never approach them, as some are close friends, but there is some looking and touching by both sides. We don’t let it go beyond that—marriage is something that shouldn’t be violated. Still I do have wet dreams at night that are just mind-blowing.

Why do you think this realm of the mind holds such fascination for a fetishist? Why doesn’t pornography address this sort of thing? Why are there so many different sorts of fetish “flavors?” Obviously, not every young boy watching “The Graduate” became fixated on older women. One last question—and I apologize if I’m prying here—are you into the “scene” in San Francisco, that is to say open about your extracurricular activities? Thanks for your time, Jane.

Mr. V.

Dear Mr. V.,

The realm of the mind is so very rich . . . and, unfortunately, for many the only place most fetishists can be free to be sexually authentic. I’d imagine that every one of us would prefer to share this realm with a loving partner. The mind of an individual is rich, yes; the mind of two people shared is even more powerful. What’s missing in pornography we commonly see is fantasies of the shared mind. Our culture offers such an abundance of material that degrades sexuality instead of honoring it; perhaps people just haven’t thought it could be otherwise. Who knows the sublime taste of chocolate, for instance, if one hasn’t sampled it? In a society that judges pornography (and sex) as prurient and “dirty,” this becomes the very way it is depicted in most pornography. Porn becomes more about just going through the motions and leaves exploration of the shared mind behind.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in nine years of having X-traordinary Talk! it’s that we don’t choose our fantasies; they choose us. The expression of sexuality may be playful or spiritual or loving or or or or . . .but which fantasies and which thoughts motivate our bodies to respond are deeply personal and strongly individualistic. Sexologists don’t know where they begin or why.

I can tell you that my customers as well as readers of Leg Show are men with lots of education—kink appears to be the province of really smart men. They have families and hold traditional values. Their outsides resemble the sweater-vested Ward-Cleaver dads we know from ’50s and ’60s television; their interior is a wild, sexual being that craves personal expression but is squashed. I would like to think that, after the kids were in bed, June tied Ward to the four-posted and teased him mercilessly with the silky panties she’d worn that day. Alas, I suspect June retreated to her twin bed to read a ladies’ magazine while Ward excused himself to the bathroom to raid the hamper. Which is exactly how the majority of my customers handle their desires.

I myself am not part of any “scene.” I am one of the seemingly conventional people. Except in the bedroom and in my business, even I keep a lid on sexuality that is personal and creative . . and am just now “coming out” about that part of myself. As you note, most people just don’t understand or accept a person doing sex-related activities for a living. They think women like me don’t attend PTA meetings at the school, that we wear leather and brandish whips. (Not to say I wouldn’t . . that would depend. I draw the line, however, at wearing leather and brandishing whips at PTA meetings!) Overall, I keep a low profile, just like you, and I do so for many of the same reasons.

And that, once again, brings us to the vast, open, accepting, exquisitely pleasurable world of our minds. Thank you, Mr. V., for sharing yours with me.

Jane is the owner of X-traordinary Talk! and can be found on the Internet at www.xtratalk.com. Ask for Jane’s advice on any aspect of fetish sexuality by e-mailing her at jane@xtratalk.com. “Advice to Boys Who Need It Bad” is a registered trademark of X-traordinary Talk! Please note that Jane’s advice is from the viewpoint of a caring, softly dominant woman; it is not intended to replace professional therapy. All questions are “real,” although may be edited for length.

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