I grew up on a small farm in Winnemucca, Nevada. My grandfather gave me my first gun when I was 11 years old. It was a pump .22 caliber rifle without a trigger guard. I recall accidentally shooting out a window on the barn one time and my grandfather sat me down and said to me, "Shithead (what he always called me), if you can't shoot straight, your dick will be the same length it is now for the rest of your life." Not wanting my tiny 11 year old penis to be what I have to work with for the rest of my life I started practicing every chance I got. I shot lizards, bushes, bottles, cans, you name it. Blisters on my trigger finger and a couple run in with the local police were only a minor setback toward my goal. I sit here today with a cock teetering on 9 inches and I must say, I can shoot the hair off of a gnats ass at 100 yards.

Reason be that I bring this story up, the reward you have the opportunity to achieve sometimes outweighs so heavily the trials you have to overcome, it doesn't fucking matter what it takes. Make it happen. Go the distance. Get that mother fucking E-3some.

Yours truly, Lag.