Ted and Zack’s Blind Date

I strained to hear Ted’s answer, but the waitress showed up just then to ask if I wanted anything else. I guess she was goosing me to pay my tab and clear the table. I ordered another beer, gulping the last couple of swallows in the one I had and giving the glass back to her.

When I could listen in again, it was sort of a shocking monologue from the black guy—I wanted to think of him as a black bull now, having heard the legends about black bulls and not having tried one yet, and he affirmed that right fast.

“A guy laying under me needs to be able to take eight inches hard—and, probably more important—an inch and a half thick.”

I had visions of Ted sitting there with his mouth hanging open in what he was being told he had to look forward to. Josh had told me that he was a little more than seven hard and thick—although he didn’t tell me how thick. And I was always begging him to give me more. So, eight inches—that would be a challenge, I would think—and something to look forward to.