I am about to rub one out at my little table in Starbucks.
There is a hotter version of a young Sophia Loren, with jet black hair down to her ass, describing the art of erotic massage over the phone, all the while playing with her hair with her free hand.
As far as masturbatory fantasies go, this one is pretty solid.
And I am not the only one. The two old guys that were having a solid conversation on the other side of her have gone silent and are just sitting there and avoiding eye contact.
I feel no shame sitting in a Starbucks sporting a painfully rigid erection at my age.
I like to think its a sign of good health.
Its when you find yourself in these situations and you are sporting a “Limp biscuit” that you should worry.
Lust makes the world go round.
If I had to put an age on her, I would say 31 at the most.
Old enough to no longer be a child, young enough to know how to play properly.
I may be in love.
My heart (See also hard on) falls so easily sometimes.
Ok, so I have ruled out committing an obscene public act, but it was close.
On to other things.
They have just reopened this Starbucks after closing it for a week.
I have been sitting at the Coffee Bean for the last week, which I have grown to enjoy, even with its pretentious imported coffees.
The porno situation next to me has left and now it is just the two old guys next to me.
And these are some dirty old men.
They are having an animated discussion.
Given what I know of their generation and standards of morality, I am fairly certain that their discussion has gone obscene.
Heads huddled together, hushed whispers, furtive glances around, its all there.
I believe I just heard to word “Blumpkin”. (Google it, its filthy)
These are some filthy old men.
Good to see.
You might think that is an odd statement.
But in this overly politically correct society, it is refreshing to see some perfectly harmless dirty behavior.
Honestly, I hope thats me in 30 years.
Old enough to know better, to old to care.
Although I get the feeling my later years will be unpleasant at best, and a horror show at worst.
I will probably end up sitting there, day in and day out, no clue who I am, with that “Permanently terrified look on my face.
An interesting thing just happened.
Everyone that reads this that has family that has gone this route is now evenly split, half are pissed at my callousness, and the other half spit their coffee laughing.
Life is like that.
Being inappropriate is a trait in my family.
Some of the funniest jokes I have ever heard has been told to me at funerals.
There are times that the difference between laughing and crying is intent.
That being said, if I was only 10 years older, I would have given serious thought to rubbing one out when the porn goddess was here.