Working saturday sucks. It sucks more when it’s a holiday but you are supposed to work because you didn’t finish the work earlier on time. It sucks because the work will really never finish but your life surely will. And on your death bed, you won’t remember and cherish a single moment spent on correcting Excel sheets and Word documents and producing copies of copies of copies of the same folder on your computer. It’s noon now and too hot outside. I am sitting in front of a water cooler and it doesn’t make any difference to the amount of sweat on my forehead and around my lips. I am sitting and staring at the computer screen in front. I would rather we make love now. We could make love at the back on that table. We could make love right here on the floor. We could make love right here right now in my chair, you on top of me, me removing your bra, you pulling down my trousers, my cock inside you, your mouth inside my mouth, your hair in my hands. I don’t give a fuck about this job and this work. It’s an unending drudgery. It has destroyed my ass, my heart. We both want the same. We both want to make each other wet, make so much love. I am having an erection already, my hundredth erection since I woke up, thinking about you and me.
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