As Monday morning reared its awful ugly head, I slowly began to feel the consequences of downing hard liquor throughout the whole onslaught of football games on Sunday. As reliable as death and taxes, the commuter gridlock took its stronghold of I-75 as I sat sweating and nauseous. The fun continued at my office, where I was greeted by stacks of applications and a full voice mailbox. "Fuck this." I muttered to myself.
As I plodded through a seemingly endless mountain of paperwork, I received a call from a supervisor of a different department. His name is Greg, an athletic divorced man in his mid-forties with a penchant for dirty jokes and a fun-loving attitude. Greg wanted to meet to discuss the particulars of an upcoming project, which in reality, consisted of about 5 minutes of relevant information and a half hour of shooting the breeze. During our talk, I discovered that Greg only lived a few blocks over from me. We agreed to meet up to watch Monday Night Football at the local watering hole, a dark dingy sports bar that deep fries everything on the menu. I would have rather stayed home, but Greg seemed lonely since his divorce and I thought I could network for a better job down the line.
I was sitting at a high top nursing a beer when Greg appeared out of nowhere with two shots of whiskey. "C'mon man, kickoff!" he exclaimed. I reluctantly choked back the shot and immediately felt better. Warmth coursed through my body and my pounding head was put to ease. Greg and I were sneaking peeks at the bartenders thick tits and ass every chance we got as another round of drinks took their effect. I hadn't jacked off in days and could feel myself swelling up, so I took a time out as an opportune time to adjust myself and take a leak. Apparently, so did Greg. "I can't piss straight with a boner." he stated while chuckling. I laughed awkwardly and we returned to our seats for another round and the check. Since it was only halftime, Greg invited me back to his condo to finish off the game. I didn't want to be rude and a few more beers and football sounded fun so I obliged.
Greg's place was a certified man cave. Leather furniture and dimmed accent lights created a comfortable ambiance. Greg tossed me a beer and put the game on a huge flat screen. "Look at these chicks." he said while gesturing to the cheerleaders and tugging at his crotch. "What I wouldn't give to be in my 20s again. You pull any tail like that?"
