I can't do this anymore, I just can't. On this day, two things stood firmly: the terrible heat and my dick. And both equally drove me crazy. Sitting in a stuffy office with a sickly working air conditioner is a real torture, especially if you do not like your job. But, what else can a lazy graduate of economics do, how not to work as a clerk in the civil service?

Sex was not already 3 weeks, as fled with the ex-bitch.

They say there are assholes who talk to their member. It seems to me that mine is crumbling me now. Especially for the memories of the daily sweet fuck with a young fucking girlfriend. The scene with her bouncing elastic boobs spasms in her pants.

I wonder what is written on my face now? The idea: "I dial a table of borrowers in Excel." Well, I would like of course. As luck would have it, in the office of a single decent woman. One is a silent mouse, small, gloomy forever. The other is a very old aunt. Good, of course, but I'm almost a grandson for her. There is one more - my boss. A sort of "Katya Pushkareva." The same baggy clothes, nasty glasses, and the truth, the character is also ugly. A woman came to power, now he, Vovka Korostylyov, pokes his nose at the monitor for any wrongdoing. Enrages awful. What is worse, periodically walks, checks what is on my screen. Do I work or maybe play or social network.

From anger, damn it, he began to sweat even more, and it’s so fucking hot. So everything, you need to calm down. Excel, Excel, borrowers, interest, loans. Oh, fuck you to fail. I can't think of anything right now. I'll go, pour myself some coffee.

- What is not working for you? Do you drink coffee again? Well only went for a mug! When you make a table, is it five minutes of work? - mentor tone leads me out of my "wonderful" thoughts.

“I slept badly, Marina Georgievna,” I hold my guilty tone: my boss, to her. Just put on the post, and the ambition - like the general's.

- You need to sleep on time! And then, I suppose, you play the whole evening, and you sit on the Internet! - I swear, as a mother.

“Insomnia due to the heat,” I don’t even have the strength to argue, but I myself think: “So that you fail, sow, do you fuck at all, what am I doing?” Maybe a masturbation until two at night. ” My member at thoughts of jerking and porn again loudly sent me ... in fact, to himself.

- He has insomnia, well, well. Come on, drink your coffee and see the table so that I have 15 minutes in a shared folder, we have a lot of work. - and her fat ass disappeared. Not so fat of course. But behind this clothes ... ugh, in short. Now we roll some coffee, and life will be good.

The point is already for dinner, the table was ready for a long time, and, like, even without errors. Our entire office plankton was cooked in soup from hot air, smells from the street and the aromas of food warmed up in the microwave. Women waved books and manuals, and I silently endured and looked at naked girls in secret on the monitor. Why do I torture myself like that, it is incomprehensible even to me. Member tired of calling me a traitor. True, I concentrated so much on two sexy girls, who in position 69 were licking each other's sexual organs, which barely managed to poke Ctrl + W when my monitor was sharply turned.

- What are you doing now? - there is not enough sound of crickets in the background. The monitor shows running 1C.

- Nothing special. I'll go to dinner now - most likely, though, I will go to the toilet to jerk off, but Pushkareva should not be aware of this.

“Come on, I need you as a man,” Marina squeaked terribly, she squealed, I need to put the boxes with the manuals in my closet, and you are the only guy at the moment.

- And Seryoga? - damn, and the devil pulled my admin admin, well, at least somehow need to delay the moment of rising from the table, because my mound on the pants will be visible even from Mars.

- He is sick today. Come on, hurry up, if you don't want to skip lunch!

“The tits of an old grandma, Marina’s fat thighs, dead coats, integraaaals, go to the damn riser!” - with such iridescent thoughts, I slowly got up from the table and set off for the hard work of a loader. Me with sleepy glances was followed by our hens from the department, devouring various kinds of anakoma and noodles.

- Well, what are you standing like not your own? Come on, grab these boxes, and - on the stepladder, - obviously gloating, Marina gave me instructions. On the table she already had a little havchik, - Do not be shy, you must work and eat - you have to earn lunch.

Laughing at her own sharpness, she sat down at the table and began to press her lunch.

Today is clearly not the day of Beckham: the boxes were incredibly heavy, made of old cardboard, always trying to break. Add to this heat, the desire to eat and the aching feeling of universal injustice - work during the break. My male ego was pressed into the floor and smeared. But the riser was quiet. You have to climb high, plus you have to lift the box up with your hands. When the shaky stepladder swayed beneath me, my whole 22-year-old life flashed before my eyes. One must have a balance of equilibrist in order to perform such tricks. For a beggarly clerk's salary, I'm not ready for this.

- Marina Georgievna, you will not help me? - stupidly somehow appeal to you to the one that is older than you by only four years, but then again, the boss.

- Oh, you, Lord, - chewing sausages, she grumbled, - well, what kind of man are you, that you can't do without a woman? What do you want?

Then I just boiled over, I think, “oh, you are Tvarin, I’m here, I risk my life, and I’m risking my life, and she’s eating me, too.”

“I’ll actually fall here.” Hold my legs, or the ladder at least, so as not to falter.

He wipes his thick lips with a napkin, walks to the stairs and clings to my calves. The first box went. Then I also raised three more. The sweat was pouring from me just like a river - the split could not cope at all. I look, and she is already hot.

- Come on, I'll give you the boxes so that you don't climb up and down? - it is necessary, though one clever thought.

Hardly gives me the next box, and again grabs my legs. A couple more approaches and she was exhausted, her hair was wet, her glasses on her upturned nose were fogging.

- Right now ... wait ..., - throws off his moron shawl. Our aunts were interested in - what does she wear in shawls? He says that under the split freezes.

That's in vain she is, of course. Who knew that she had a white blouse under her shawl. Translucent. And who knew that in this blouse rested lush delicious balls of milk boobs covered with a lace bra. From the heat, all this splendor shines through, and, guess who began to show signs of life?

I swallow saliva and grab the box from my hands. Look firmly stuck to the newly discovered charms of the authorities.

- What got up? - is it me or a member? - It's hard for me, let's finish faster.

- Yes Yes.

Apparently because of dizziness, she had already begun to think poorly, she took it and grabbed my hips. Electric shock is given to the scrotum. Well, what are you going to do - again the riser. I bent a little instinctively, and nearly crashed.

- What are you doing? A couple more - and we have already finished! Come on, don't relax! - you would know, infection, how tense I am!

Having finished the work, I climbed down from the ladder and folded it up, set it against the wall. Marina was sitting with her wide ass on the table. In this blouse, she, of course, looked spectacular - a noticeable hollow between two elastic boobs closely pressed to each other. Clearly noticing my gaze - she abruptly grabbed a shawl and threw it on herself, blushing like a girl.

- You can go, Korostilev. I allow you to lengthen your break, due to force majeure circumstances.

The door is after me ...