Double Overhand “Apparently we’re getting that new machine next week, but it’s not

Double Overhand “Apparently we’re getting that new machine next week, but it’s not even the same brand, so none of the capsules are going to work. I bet they’ll just throw them out, toss them away as if they can’t be used by anyone else.” “They can’t be used by anyone else, Fred. They only work in that coffee machine.” “That’s not the point. It’s like when they changed all the cables on everyone’s work stations last September. Same bullshit, losing good equipment just because they don’t think to ask if anyone has a use for any of it. Anyway, I’ve heard the new model they’re getting is…” Adam felt emotionally hung over. There was a pair of raybans sitting pretty across his mind’s eyes, and all they could see was a highlight reel that kept making him stumble. That overwhelming, pervading sense that he didn’t even have a little control, from the way that she’d run her fingernails down his chest to that constant, fleeting attention she’d given his by this point throbbing erection. The way she’d tickled her fingers up and down the length of him, before reaching down a little further, taking a handful of him and squeezing, playfully at first, before pushing past the threshold into painful, making him writhe around on the bed. In the moment, in that exact moment, he’d wanted to slap her, hit her, get her off him, but the relief that flooded his system the moment after, once she’d let go, only made him want her to do it again. About how she’d broken her assurance after thirty minutes, or thirty hours, or however long it had been to drive him insane at all that fucking attention. After she’d ground her cunt up against him, making sure he never got the slightest moment of penetration, no matter how he rolled his hips or thrust upwards with his pelvis. So that she could utter the suggestion in his ear, and despite himself he’d said yes. “Janine was saying that they reckon they’re going to start phasing out casual days because they feel like they screw with productivity, which is bullshit frankly. I know that being able to relax once a week definitely helps with my work flow, or at least it changes…” She’d slipped a finger between her legs before she’d slipped it between his, fingernail first pressing against his asshole, making him glare and groan, all at once. It was like she was fondling the core of him, and he had asked for it. She’d barely got more than a knuckle in when he’d exploded all over her belly, to a happy peal of laughter from her, and a kiss on the forehead. She’d lain on him for a while, then, before sliding off the blindfold, untying his wrists. His breathing had been shaky. “Do you know when we’re going to do the whole annual report rigmarole this year? It was January last year, but that’s come and gone. Hopefully they just forgot, and we can give it a pass. It’s a fucking chore, I’ll tell you that…” It hadn’t taken long for the weight to shift. She’d been stacking one side of the scales for an hour or so, and as the rope came off he could feel them tipping, all by themselves. His hand had come up, casual as anything, and settled happily around her throat, thumb pressing up. The other moved around, found the length of her hair and grabbed a handful. He’d made a mess of her make up, made a mess of her. Brought her down to the level she’d brought him to, a sense of cosmic justice hanging heavy in the air after they were done fucking, after he was done fucking her. A little quid pro quo, a little tit for tat. He gave her everything she’d given him, and then a little bit more, so that she had a little ammunition for the next time. “And what about you, Adam? Drinks after work?” They were all looking at him expectantly, half a dozen blinking faces that had all the entertainment of mute herbivores. He blinked, shook his head, half smiled. “Not sure, I’ll let you know.” There was a pause while they processed, chewed the cud, before animation resumed, and their conversation careened off into the weather, or celebrity gossip, or some other unsuspecting victim of banality. His phone buzzed. Busy tonight? E x And just like that, his schedule cleared up a little. Stretched. What do you have in mind? A x He made his excuses with his co-workers, let his mind wander a little more. That depends entirely on who is in the mood when I walk through the door. E x There’s always something exciting about the new, the unknown. But this was challenging his perceptions of exactly what and how to process things. This wasn’t just doing something new, this was being something new, and the way things were moving he was finding it difficult to remain entirely upright. His phone buzzed again. Bitch. Challenge or warning? He’d decide on the way home. -- source link

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