My Throbbing Mouse

Then my cell phone rang, and I had to pick it up because I was actually expecting an important call. It turned out to be my girlfriend, who must have intuited that I was having, or trying to have, sex with someone else. And on her computer no less.

"Where are you?"

"At your place."

"What are you doing at my house? I thought you were working on a column."

"Um, I am, honey. Can I call you back?"

Meanwhile, Fred was getting antsy, and asked me two more times, "Are you absolutely sure that you do not want to do this on the phone?"

"I'm sure, Fred, I am sure." I tried to get back on track, but after a few lines, Fred said, "Buttgirl, this isn't really working for me. I am going back to the bar. Bye." But Fred! I am Buttgirl, and I am here to play ball! Unfortunately, no one would play with me. My eyes were glazing over from staring at the computer screen for so long, and I was sick of typing. Alone in my girlfriend's house, I decided to hunt for a vibrator and wait for her to get home from work.

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