Day one at the new gig. Fuck if I know why, but I know a piece of it is that crazy rush—getting away with something filthy. Man, did that feel good!

Get this—

Them? It’s the same damn drill. The forms. The handbook. The awkward  introductions.

Me? I’m scoping the place out, sniffing all the new possibilities, getting harder by the second.

End day, I hit the shitter stall. Streams of cum shot out of my dick and splattered against the door—running down, dripping all over the floor.

Next day, the all-hands email drops.

All eyes were on me.