Straddled and submitted, I opened my eager mouth to her but all I received was her hot lick of my left nipple. The lick was delivered with the form of commitment that would only be produced by a professional—a professional of love. The gentle gesture left me hard. Rock hard. I cannot begin to tell you how we ended up on the leopard print couch in that smoke-filled nightclub, but I can tell you how we met.

I imagine a night filled with Latin women, sounds that make the hips pump, and the sweet smells of love.It is a day like any other. I sit at my desk in my god-forsaken cubicle staring at a clock that would show me absolutely no mercy. I arrive at 0730 and by the time I feel as though I am going to throw my chair through the closest wall it is 0731. I do not want to sound like I hate my job; I merely think I hate my life. When you look in the dictionary under the term "chronic masturbator" you will find a sad portrait of my life and me. I do not find myself to be an ugly non-interesting individual but I do find myself lacking one very important quality: self-esteem. I have been told that even an ugly, fat, lazy man can get a little pussy if he only shows a subtle amount of self-esteem, but for some unknown reason I cannot even muster up the self-esteem of an ugly, fat, lazy man.

The office coffee tastes like shit. I have absolutely no idea what shit tastes like but I am sure it tastes like office coffee. The time is almost 0735 and my favorite and only reason for coming to work is about to arrive. From the small opening of my cubicle I have a clear view of the copying machine and like clockwork she arrives. Mary the overly sexy secretary to photocopy important papers. The only thing important about those papers to me is the fact that an extremely sexy female is carrying them. Every morning before I enter my tomb I make sure to unplug the photocopier.

Mary arrives like clockwork each day and attempts to copy documents and to her surprise the photocopier is never in working order. The only logical solution is to check to see if it is unplugged, and what do you know, it is. As Mary bends over to plug in the photocopier I am presented with a perfect and perverted view of one of the most spectacular assess ever created. I often daydream of sending Mary's parents a letter thanking them for creating a woman with such a magnificent ass but regretfully I do not. I feel that if the letter is interpreted incorrectly it could blow my chances of ever nibbling on her firm spectacular ass, so I don't. Yes I am a pervert and maybe in some circles a sexual deviant, but when your last piece of ass was in the early eighties, a man has to do what a man has to do.

The day passes quickly when you are the master of Tetris, or as the less worthy down in the mail room call me, the god of Tetris. I don't see myself as a slacker, I see myself as more of an office anarchist. Why work when you don't have to? In between my moments of gaming perfection I am periodically and without warning demoralized by my sadistic knob of a supervisor, a man by the name of Dick Morgan, or as I like to call him, The Dick.

For many years I have tolerated The Dick but for some unknown reason I cannot find any part of me that can like nor accept a person who smells of ripe cheese. The mere sight of this douchebag makes me lose faith in mankind. How could a turd like The Dick obtain a job of such seriously useless leadership? How difficult is it to supervise probably one of the most unmotivated team of fuck-ups in the known universe. In my area of the office The Dick holds the one and only avenue of advancement, and the thought of aspiring to be anything remotely close to The Dick makes me want to dive out the nearest window.

From the corner of my eye I catch a glance of the office clock, a clock that reminds me that 8 hours of my life have just passed me by. I gracefully slam my head on my desk and whimper "1630, thank God, the day is over and man have I earned my sixty five dollars and change." After a moment of self loathing and total despair I have an epiphany: Get laid, that will solve all your problems. I have this epiphany after every working day. Who am I trying to fool? I have this epiphany every second of the day. I begin by asking myself, where could a man of my moral caliber go and get laid with a minimal amount of effort and forethought. The location hits me like a bolt of lightning. A nightclub.

I frantically rifle thorough the yellow pages to find the largest and most colorful nightclub ad and begin to plan my night of desperate passion. The club has been chosen—Club Miami, a cool new Latin club. I imagine a night filled with Latin women, sounds that make the hips pump, and the sweet smells of love.

I stroll through the door of the nightclub like a timid child being dropped off for the first time at a day care that smells of pee and despair. I make a bee line to the bar and order a dangerous drink, something a man's man would order. I look the bartender in the eye, because he only had one eye, and with the manliest voice I can muster I ask for a virgin Pina Colada with a rum chaser on the side. With a puzzled look on his face the bartender provides me with a Shirley Temple spiked with vodka. I take a man-sized sip of my fruity libation and before I walk away I look the bastard in the eye and say in a deep voice, "Thanks prick, you just screwed yourself out of a twenty-five cent tip." I walk away a man—a man with a really fruity drink.

I scan the room for the drunkest lady I can find when a beauty catches my eye. A gorgeous little Latin lady with long brown hair hanging to her ass and the most comforting brown eyes I have ever seen. Our eyes meet; I start my approach. The music makes my hips pump while I walk towards her. She guides me into a secluded corner of the bar. We are alone. Standing directly in front of her I open the conversation with "Hey, lady."

Before I can say another word she pushes me back and I fall, right onto a leopard print couch. She startles me by ripping open my shirt, exposing my freshly shorn chest. Before I can grab a breath she has my left nipple in her mouth. Her touch gives me an erection, the kind of erection that could bust holes through dry wall. I close my eyes and whimper, "Take me now. I don't know how much longer I can last." And faster than it began she is gone. All that is left on that leopard print couch is a stunned man with a flaccid piece of disappointment.


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