I am an Accountant, not just an ordinary accountant but one of those accountants that makes a relatively decent living for her company making policy, procedures, decisions, etc. Someone who explains the many shades of gray that a law or pronouncement has on the company’s results and justifies a position as close as possible to the side of the line they want to be on. I am like often Mr. Wolfe in Pulp Fiction, I am your cleaner.
This is so fulfilling and I often find my thoughts when I am stressed wandering to him. Recently, the stress has been higher than the Xanax can handle and the fantasties have started to overtake my brain a little more bit by bit. Today for example, was fucking him under my high school bleachers,
I must be in a nostaglic mood as twice last week I thought about leaving my parents house to walk up to my elementary school and we fucked with my back arched against a large tree where I used to play dodge ball with my fifth grade “boyfriend” and another day featured the concrete wall facing the sliding glass door off of my fifth grade teacher’s classroom just off where I played hopscotch and four square on the blacktop. Both nice places to avoid the summer heat but places anyone could come upon us.
My old running trail has also been featured quite frequently.
Then there’s the recurring dream of just pulling over on a quiet Texas road and moving back the front seat, me straddling him, tube top dress pulled down to expose my large braless breasts to his mouth and my pantiless pussy exposed via my pulled up skirt just riding him in the car until we both cum. Sweaty, tired and sated from each other.
He’s already been texted today, that I need him and that I just want him. That there’s an itch that has to be scratched as it’s been a day….