My dick is so long that I'm constantly wiping my footprints off it; then I have another mess to contend with.
My dick is so long that, after I had been dumped naked in the middle of nowhere as a result of a botched kidnapping, I had to hack it off with the sharpest stone mother-nature had to offer (if you can call that sharp) because I couldn't drag it more than thirty or forty feet without having to sit down and rest, or vomit, or pull the thorns out of it. In case you're wondering, the kidnappers dumped me in the middle of no-where because both me and my dick wouldn't fit in the underground, telephone booth-sized chamber they had prepared for me. What a way for them to learn that one size does not fit all. As a side note, if they hadn't stripped me naked, I could have used my clothing to help me construct a makeshift skid of some kind to haul my dick around on. But alas . . .
Yeah, I know. A camera-crew is scaling the length of my dick as we speak so that they can film Mr. Baumgartner's dive . . . from above.
My Dick is so long that for the next Academy Awards they are going to use my Dick instead of the red carpet.
My dick is so long that it took thirty-six doctors to circumcise me. In exchange for the remains, the good people at Wimbledon donated enough money to pay for my entire college education. So, now you know; when they roll out that tarp during a tennis match because of rain, that ain't tarp . . .
A tenskin, eh. It takes a ninetyskin to serve as a tarp at Wimbledon. I'm not even sure you belong in this thread; I wasn't going to say so before because I didn't want to make you feel . . . small. But then I thought, why shouldn't you feel that? If I have to walk around feeling huge, then you should have to walk around feeling small. It's only fair!
My dick is so long that I have to trim my pubes with a chainsaw for each individual hair. It's so long that my urethra was a fullscale model for the Large Hadron Collider. It's so long that it can only exist in the twelfth dimension.