Working 65 hours in six days is tough enough, but working 65 hours in five days is downright unpleasant, especially when we have tickets to something with a 7:00 curtain tomorrow night. Next year I'm just going to have to lay down the law with b&c: find someone else to take to the symphony/opera/theater during tax season. At least tomorrow night's the symphony, so I can either take a nap or ogle the bass section. I swear, I'd do every one of the guys who play bass. Preferably all at once, but one at a time would work, too. One or two of the cellists are pretty hot, and you know that their legs have to spread pretty easily, but I suspect that they're a little bit bitchy. There are also a few hot brass players, and you have to figure their breath control is going to come in handy. What? Am I supposed to be concentrating on the music?
I can't even remember the last time I had sex (yeah, I do realize that I could just scroll down the page and read about it, smart ass). Yesterday morning, I was feeling like I hadn't been fulfilling my conjugal duties with b&c, but I really didn't have time to fuck him, so I just rolled over and started to play with his dick while he was still asleep, then when he woke up, I worked on his nipples pretty hard while he jerked himself off and then as soon as he came, I sprinted (literally) to the shower to try to get to work before 8. Pretty soon my cock's going to be all backed up, like a bottle of lotion gets when some of the lotion dries at the tip of the dispenser, and then you have to press down hard on it and a stream shoots out and misses your hand and gets all over your pants. Fortunately, it's a lot more fun when it's a stream of cum and I'm naked. And even more fun if I happen to be shooting in some guy's mouth, but I'm not sure I'll have time for that before the weekend.
The boy I messed with last Friday has been back in touch a couple more times, but I think he's purposefully being semi-coy so that I'll be in more of a mood to punish him if and when we finally hook up again. Bitch, please. I was raised Southern Baptist: I will find something to punish you for. If nothing else, I can whip your ass for impure thoughts, and I know you got those going on. But I've learned that you can't really speak plainly with a guy who wants to call you "Daddy." Besides, I want at least two hours with him the next time (I've already put my toolbox in the trunk of the car so that I'll have everything I need to treat him the way he wants to be treated; I also figured out how to silence the shutter sound that my new phone makes when it snaps a picture), and where the fuck am I going to find two hours? Maybe Saturday, if he's still in town.
Anyway, back to the salt mines. Tax season ends soon, and then after a short vacation together, b&c is off to Mexico City for a conference. I think I'll call in sick a couple of days and fuck some of the married men who hang out on squirt during the day. Something to look forward to.
3 years ago