God, I Can’t Wait To Go Home And Masturbate

08.22.07 10 years ago 31 Comments

Christ, this day is going slow. We ain’t even had our second practice yet. Then I gotta go watch film of both practices, download the rest of the staff, and then map out tomorrow’s schedule. I’m not gettin’ outta here until midnight. I know it. Dag gummit.

God, I can’t wait to get home and masturbate.

I really wish that one girl in those tight black pants hadn’t walked by earlier. All I’ve wanted to do since then is tear off my pants and just hammer myself raw. Get myself a piece of ol’ Wade Jr, if you know what I mean. But nooooo, I gotta stay here and do some daggone work. In a glass office, no less.


I got no privacy in this complex. Some asshole’s always reading the paper in the shitter. Maybe I can get home for a quick snack or something. No wait, can’t do that. Patty’s home right now with her Garden Club. God dammit. I really need to masturbate. I’m tellin’ ya, I got a hankerin’ for some spankerin’!

I know what I’m gonna do. When I finally finish up all this shit, I’mma hop in my car and speed on home, gently workin’ my knob through my pleated khakis. That way, I’ll be prepared for rubbin’ when I get home. Everyone should be asleep by then. Then, I’ll sneak into the house real quiet and fire up the ol’ Dell. Patty don’t know about “Private Browsing” on Safari yet. So I’mma grab some tissues and download me some hardcore shit. I like the amateur stuff. It feels more real to me. I don’t like all that staged porn. Maybe I’ll grab some lotion too. That makes my hand feel more like a cooter.

The question is: do I masturbate just once? It’s so hard to hold out for that one Texas-sized spurt. I could conceivably get off one quick jerk in the driveway, then have a longer, more-drawn out jerk when I get through the door. That way, I’m not creaming the keyboard within ten seconds. But then I’ll be tired. And hungry.

God, I need to release the fuckin’ floodgates.

If I could just find somewhere private. There’s no way I can get all this cotton pickin’ work done when I need to go masturbate so badly. If could just jerk off, I could finally get on with my day. Maybe I’ll hit a Starbucks or something. They have bathrooms that lock. I could maybe try and massage it under the table during our film sessions. I could think about that cheerleader girl from that one show. She is one dandy piece of trim. Or I could think about the black pants girl. That Angelina Jolie makes a great imaginary lay, but I haven’t seen her lately. I saw a player’s wife walk in here the other day that had her big, juicy rack just sticking right out. Christ, I’d like to get hold of her ass and then just ride off into the sunset…

God, I have to get this done. The film room. Gotta do it there.

But what if someone notices? Frankly, I got so much Wadebutter built up, it would make a stain on my pants the size of a longhorn. Can’t do it.

C’mon, clock. Move! I gotta get this done! If I can’t masturbate, I can’t think of nothin’ else!

Jones: Yeehaw!!!!!!

Oh, fuck! I’m never gettin’ outta here!

Jones: Hey there, tubby! You like Romo’s doin’? Hoo boy, I like that Romo! But you know what he needs? More options! More routes! More formations! I want you to stay in tonight and help design a new trips package for my boy Romo!

I got family stuff to do tonight, Mr. Jones.

Jones: The fuck you do! I didn’t hire you to love your family! I hired you to work! Now work, fatty! Work work work like the little fattykins you are!

Well, I do have to get home and grab some paperwork real quick.

Jones: I’ll have a courier get it for you! By the way, I’m trying out new cheerleaders on the adjourning practice field this afternoon. Make sure you have my boys focused on football, and not all that sweet river Texas pussy next door. Comprende, mi fucking amigo? WOO HOO! I AM FUCKING CRAZY!!!!!

Shit. Now I’ll never get to jerk off. I wish I were castrated.

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