As I considered heading the 35 miles downtown last night for CumUnion, the headache medicine just didn’t kick in and couldn’t see myself hanging around for more than the time to find an ass or two.
You see, I work 10-hour days Monday through Wednesday with a 50-mile commute each way. Wednesday is essentially my Friday. I should end the week relieved, but I’m all tense after my asshole boss screams like a fucking banshee at me about bullshit. In his world, the sky isn’t up and water isn’t wet. For some reason, it’s my fault.
My week doesn’t end in relief. It ends in stress with the thought, “I’ve got to find a way to get the fuck out of here.”
Any optimism is sucked from my world as I sit in a windowless office and slog through mindless tasks. What friends I do have in the office would be scolded if they visit me to relieve the monotony. And then there’s the two “straights” who are scared I’ll out them.
It’s a glimpse into the strange world of my life.
My trapezius muscles on either side of my neck and upper back seem to tighten over the week and just create a stress headache I cannot relieve.
After the commute home through terrible traffic, picking up a PowerBall ticket (I lost, of course) and having a quick dinner, I settled in for a little news and just didn’t get to the point that I wanted to get up, shower, groom and head back downtown.
It’s nothing personal guys. Absolutely. I have ambitions on going but I just lost momentum at some point. Even two or three hot guys with whom I chatted bowed out saying the expense of getting into the venue made it less likely for their attendance.
In my mood, I would have made a beeline for the best and first ass, bred and it bolted for home. With a 70-mile round trip and the entry fee, it wouldn’t have been worth my time. I need to fuck a LOT more ass, spend a lot more time and breed at least a few times. Don’t you agree?
Today, I’ve got my cute, bisexual massage therapist lined up to work those traps and see if I can feel a little better for the weekend.