My Dick Is Hard And Its Annas Fault

People think it’s easy being a freelance writer. Bullshit. Right now all the blood’s rushing south and my dick’s killing me under this desk. I had to slap on the keyboard cuffs so my hands wouldn’t dive straight into my shorts. Anna’s the reason. Those long legs on bare feet, that cocky little brunette grin, the fake tits pushing against thin fabric, her green eyes sparkling like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. She looks barely out of high school, which only makes it worse. Or better. Whatever. I keep picturing my fingers sliding under those red plaid panties she’s wearing, finding the soft, warm spot she hides. She even lifts them to her nose, gives them a sniff, and next thing her pale beige nipples stiffen up tight. Damn. These cuffs aren’t cutting it anymore. Gotta unlock them, fist my cock, and give it the release Anna started. Thanks, baby—now pose for me again.