HATE MY JOB  

funguy2471975 42M
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3/9/2006 8:50 am
HATE MY JOB


11:00am the alarm wakes me up, and I reach over and hit the snooze button. Just five minutes that’s all I have. Five miserable minutes I have to wake and face the world. Three hundred seconds before that inscrutable buzzing goes off again and reminds of the flesh I posses, and the life I lead. Buzz, buzz, buzz I hate that fucking sound. I awake and for a brief second I stare at my hand as if it were the hand of a stranger, but then a feeling of recognition washes over as I stare at the hair, and the pixels of my skin. Once again I am inside my own flesh. Maybe I never left.
Trying to get out of bed I feel an insatiable sensation, and recognize the feeling as my morning hard on. Rolling over on the bed with my stomach down I push my hips back and forth pushing my cock deeper inside the mattress picturing the ass of nice tender slut. I picture her having blond hair, tanned skin, and tits that have barely entered womanhood. She’s not to tall and not to short, and the blonde pubic hair of her pussy has darkened because of the prolonged exposure to the California sun. As I slip my cock in her suntan lotion lubricated ass I hear the lyrics of a Beetle’s song in my mind “good morning” “good morning.” The song echoes in mind as I push my self of the bed and try to make it to work.
I work at a certain coffee shop that’s named after a certain character from the novel “Mobby Dick,” ironic isn’t it. Every day I work it’s the same old routine. A bunch of caffeine junkies lining up to get their morning fix that usually comes in the form of lattes, expressos, and double cappuccinos. I HATE MY DAY JOB….

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