How to do a due diligence of the ding-a-ling.

On a balmy Saturday, while listening to Betty Wright's upbeat track "It's in His Kiss," I pondered whether or not the song was written during her pubescence, a time when kissing and fondling were enough to satiate a young woman sexually, in Betty's heyday of course. The shared sentiment amongst my female friends is that the male member is merely enough to satisfy them, specifically males with modest members, so how could a simple kiss suffice, sexually speaking.

Betty's song reminded me of an earlier conversation with a girlfriend, in which we were gabbing about why a seemingly perfect gentleman was still single, the gamut of reasons ranging from body odor, bad breath, bereft-benjamins, bad-tempered........ bodily brutality. Bromhidrosis and halitosis quickly eliminated as possible reasons, as my friend had discreetly snatched a whiff of him on a previous occasion, and confirmed his body gave off an aroma of lilacs and his breath of Listerine.

A light-bulb moment flashing in my brain, I slapped my forehead and stated the obvious reason - a disappointing ding-a-ling. Observing the deadpan look plastered across my friend's face, I whispered in her ear my dirty little secret: the tongue-kiss as an opportunity to grope the male groin and to determine whether or not he has a monstrous or modest member.


While tongue-kissing your mate fully-clothed and your purse in proximity, finagle your fingers downwards and fiddle with the instrument, employing a bit of finesse. You must be gentle when groping the genitals, and not to grab it like gotcha-your-it, as this is not a game of tag. This is a foolproof method, averting you from a situation where you are lying nude anticipating his entrance, and he unleashes a tool the circumference of a Crayola Crayon or a can of Coca Cola, both warranting a plea " please put it back in your pants PRONTO." The male appendage is the only case in which "average" is a favorable attribute.


If your exploratory efforts return dissatisfactory results, and your plans of bumping bodies in the buff are derailed, please come prepared with a stock of excuses to spew at your suitor as to why you cannot do the deed tonight, or any other night for that matter. Some plausible excuses which have withstood the test of time are menstruation and toothache.

When you are out of options, and you desperately need to take flight, excuse yourself to the bathroom and slip out of the window, making sure to grab your bag nearby as you beeline for the bathroom. Now you see why this necessitates that you be fully-clothed and that your purse be in proximity, allowing enough time to flee while your suitor is sprawled on the sofa with his ding-a-ling dangling from his slacks.



By the time dude realizes that you have departed the domicile, your car engine is revved up and your foot is flooring the gas pedal, en route to I-95. Keeping a pair of driving moccasins or chinese slippers stowed away in your bag comes in handy for moments like these.




I realize that there is a faction of the female population where size does not matter in terms of ding-a-ling discretion. Being a divorcee and dreading those dormant periods of ding-a-ling action, I welcome any ding dong size, just as long it is free of diseases, deformities and dysfunctions.

For those ladies who must do due diligence to unearth the ding-a-ling size, please deploy my fail-safe "kiss feel and flee" method and be sure to tell a friend. Encountering a diminutive ding-a-ling is a rite of passage, which sometimes warrants a lady to leave her lover in the lurch.