| John was looking for a little "action." He picked up a sweet young thing at the bar and took her back to his hotel room. Little did he know she was darn near a nymphomaniac. After six times, she was screaming for more. After the *eighth* time, John told her that he needed to slip out for a pack of cigarettes. On the way out, he stopped in the men's room. He stood in front of the urinal, unzipped, and felt a moment of panic when he couldn't find "it." After a couple of minutes of "fishing around," he finally said, "Look, it's okay. She's not here!" |