Shaking up the things.

Sleepy eyes. Sweat on my back. Scorching sun following me everywhere. Sitting for hours at one desk. Often, I forget I have the choice to stand up. Often, I forget to take a piss. Often, I forget to drink water. Often, I am just sitting there at my desk, waiting for the working hours to end so that I can go back home and make myself some black coffee, play some old gold music, do a little writing, look out of the window of my bedroom, lie in bed and imagine you on me and end up masturbating and then back in my chair. Today is another day when you won’t be here until late. You are tired, I know. You want to get done with it as quickly as possible. I wish you were here. I could have given you a nice body massage before you went to work, and then we would have made love again. We are making love now. In my head, we are making love all the time, your skin on my skin, me touching you everywhere at once. There’s dust buried in the corner of my eyes, dust flowing through the window and settling down on my sofa, dust everywhere on the road to my home. Caffeine has started kicking in. I can feel it in my eyes more than anywhere else. I can feel it clearly. Tomorrow, I run out of water. But that happens tomorrow and it may never come. Gulping down the last of this coffee now. Putting down the cup. Touching my cock. Closing my eyes. You are here.

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