I hate long weekends.
My e-mail dries up, no one visits, comments vanish, and I know that you are all out there having your real life and there are times when I just think too much. I don’t blame you. I’m not out there either. I rarely have time either. I am busy, I have fun, I work hard, and then I get all lonely for a while.
I shouldn’t, it’s silly.
This weekend I went skiing (had a wonderful time), went for a long run (9.5 miles, tripped once, jacked up my hand, elbow, hip, and upper left quadrant), made it to the store, and this afternoon I get to help with a dinner party (waiter duty) and tomorrow, it’s an open schedule……
But this morning, I woke up before my alarm went off and all I could do was think of her. I reached inside my pajamas and slowly stroked my hard morning cock and thought about her hair, her smile, her laugh. I wondered what she meant when she said “If anything wasto happen….” and I couldn’t get back to sleep.
I wondered if I should have taken this job that keeps me so far away from her. I wonder what I should have done differently, I stroked it a little more, not wanting to cum, not wanting to sleep, just staying in that hazy netherworld of regret and hope.
Boo Hoo, cry me a river.
I hate long weekends because I miss those people, you, her, them, us, the people that define our lives in way that we can’t define ourselves.
That probably doesn’t even make sense, but that’s the way it goes at 6:00 AM on a Sunday morning.
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