The Girl, The Office and The All-Day Hard-On

This morning, I found myself pulling into the office lot at the exact same time as the smokeshow of a redhead who works for the company upstairs. So, naturally, I fiddled with the radio, checked on my lunch, rearranged my briefcase and basically did everything in my power to delay my exit from the car to ensure that I'd be walking into the building behind her. Which, of course, is the prime viewing location.

Her ass, as usual, did not disappoint, maintaining its ridiculously perfect heart-shape as she moved into the building, while her pants -- made of the luckiest fibers on earth -- fought valiantly to contain all that awesome, flexing tight against her curves with each and every step.

It was just what I needed to start the day. But it left me with a painful, day-long hard-on.

You see, once her ass got all up in my head, I couldn't shake it out. Through every meeting, every PowerPoint presentation, every conference call, every excruciating webinar, it haunted me, shifting easily back and forth, hypnotizing me. Reminding me that something far, far better than all of this was just right up the stairs and six cubes to the left. And it kept me stiff for basically the entire day.

Moving about the office in such a condition can be a challenge. Bad enough they all know think I'm the office perv. I don't want to be the guy with the perpetual boner, skulking through the halls and leaning a bit too comfortably against the candy machine.

My best friend today was a FedEx box. Yup, just your basic cardboard shipping package. I kept it by the door of my office, and whenever I needed to go somewhere, I simply grabbed it, positioned it confidently over my crotch, and headed out. Sure, by the end of the day the mail guy wanted to shiv me for moving in on his turf. But it was better than being the guy it's not safe to take the elevator with.

As for Red, well, I had plans. Plans that involved busting upstairs, running to her cube, displaying the majesty of my hard-on as it bulged uncomfortably against my flat-front chinos. Telling her I wanted her so bad I could taste her, and begging her to pull off the shackles of Corporate America and run wild with me in the streets, or at least down rte. 128.

Alas, I settled for sneaking off to the men's room after the office emptied out and jerking myself within an inch of my life. But the thought was there.