“So, how’d it go last night?”

The two guys at the table next to me had been there about an hour. So far, they hadn’t bothered me much, but as their alcohol intake increased, so did their volume. It was starting to interfere with my work.

“Ah, it was okay,” said the second guy. “I mean, it took a while, but, you know. Good cock jobs take time. I think she was getting a little frustrated by the end.”

“Dude, seriously. Women just don’t get how hard it is to really do a good job with the cock. The stuff gets everywhere!”

“Damn right, yo. I mean, it started out okay. The cock was coming out smooth, no bumps or anything…it was just right around the middle that it started to go haywire.”

“Yeah? How’d she take it?”

“Well, you know, it’s really tough to get a good bead on the cock. And then things were going well, so I got excited, but I put a little too much pressure on, and damned if the cock didn’t spray everywhere. So I had to spend a while cleaning up the mess, and by the time I was done with that, she was getting really impatient.”

Okay, so, you know, I’ve been in a lot of bars. I’ve overheard a lot of conversations. But by now my face is getting pretty red. I try to focus on my blog, but the cock keeps intruding on my concentration. Focus. “…dear pedometer…”

“So what did you end up being able to finish? Or did she kick your ass out and finish it herself?”

“Dude, seriously, I sweet talked her a little, telling her how hard it was to really do a good cocking job, and she seemed to relax a little. I showed her how hard it is to pack the cock into such a large hole, and she seemed to see what I was talking about.”

“Word. Chicks just don’t get that shit.”

“Totally, dude. So anyway, like one point the cock came out a little hard, so wouldn’t you know I had to scrape the damn cock out and start over. She was really getting hot at that point. I was afraid she wouldn’t be down for me finishing the job, but I asked her, ‘Look, lady, do you want the cock done right or right away?’ You know? Some chicks just don’t have the patience.”

Focus. “…poor little pedometer, reduced to Dog’s plaything in the prime of your electronic little life…”

“So what happened, dude?”

“Well goddammit, I just packed as much cock as I could into the bitch, and I’ll be damned if it didn’t just squirt right in there. It ended up being okay, even though by the time I was done I had scraped out the cock like three times.”

Okay, enough.

“Look here, you guys,” I turned to them, and they paused with their beers halfway to their lips, staring at me in bemusement. “I’m a pretty cool chick, but your conversation leaves me completely disgusted. Have a little respect for women, would ya?”

“What’s the matter, lady? Never had a leaky bathtub before?”

Homonyms. Such fun.

I picked tell a story about a conversation overheard in a bar.

Happy belated Valentine’s Day!