Still More Bar Tales

I had cornered myself again

in the back of a dark biker

bar with this large breasted

babe who was busy demanding

I make her my mistress, my slave,

my servant, my bitch, my whore.

She said she’d be real good to me,

fix me my drinks every night with

that one bourbon I did love so

damn much, that she’d do fucking

A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G

my heart desired, suck my dick

every morning, a hand job at

dinner, ride the white pony

panting and grunting like a

banshee in bed every night,

all the while with her stroking

me off in my blue jeans and

for some horrible reason I

suddenly thought about my

mother who had warned me

about girls like this when I was

growing up and whenever she

talked about this sort of thing, I

swore to myself and any god

in existence that I’d make it my

life’s mission to go off and one

day meet a girl just like that

and then I thought to myself

well hell,

thanks mom

and I said to this goddess

sorry darling

not this time

and I tossed my drink back,

slammed the shot glass following

it down and fucking walked off

to the bar down the next street in

search of a friendly bottle of vodka,

thinking god my male friends would

be kicking me my ass right about now.