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>Arachnaphobia

>Now, I know 3-1/2 inches doesn’t sound big, but I’m not talking penis-size here, people. I’m talking spider-size. Men, forget those enlargement pills. Somehow turn your man-meat into an eight legged furry arachnoid and suddenly you’ve got something guaranteed to make any female shudder.

Quietly lounging beachside under a canopy, sipping a virgin strawberry daquiri, reading The Devil Wears Prada and nearly nodding off, I felt a little tickle on my inner thigh. That little tickle was courtesy of this orange spider. I sat paralyzed for a moment contemplating on whether it was poisonous and if it would sink its teeth into me once I tried to swat it away. Before I could act, it was scurrying towards my crotch and then my underside then my other thigh then my calf then back to the original thigh all within two seconds. Deft.

I mananged to use my book about the Devil to brush it away and propped him on my flipper to take him to shady ground and resumed my lounging after a big laugh at the image of me trying to pry my dazed gangly self out of a sunken beach chair whilst simultaneously shooing a giant beast away from my thinly veiled cooter without killing the offending visitor. Mission accomplished. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, reading and snoozing and sipping.

Kambri

Had it been a 3-1/2″ penis in disguise, things would have ended much differently, I assure you.

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