The Pussy

God Damn Do I Want to Fuck My Intern

Christina. Christina from Colombia. She is not hot, but she is 23 years old and looks 15 and wears puffy white skirts sliding down at the back to show half an inch of innocent pink cotton panties; sheer blouses where you can see the outline of her bra; she sits with her legs open. You can’t see pussy but you know it’s there. You imagine it under all that soft white fabric. The girl knows how to do laundry; her skirts are always white and fresh. There must be some pheromone going on because I just get this sense around her of wanting to fuck urgently, like a jackal. She is innocent; she comes off as a girl who hasn’t been with a lot of boys in her life. But that sexuality. Colombians.

I was fucking Gertrude drunk and half asleep and in the darkness I saw her face as Christina’s. She is in my subconscious. I was so drunk I really thought it was her for a second, and I was elated. The dream was coming true.

She is subservient. When she texts and emails she calls me “Mr. Tacos.” A little tongue in cheek but it gives me a deep and profound boner. She asked me if I ever get lonely. Every pore of my being was screaming that what would make me less lonely is you bending over this desk and giving me your tight little virgin cunt, but I was working too hard and just told her I didn’t really have time to answer the question. I actually prefer to be alone at work. Even with an office mate whose womb you want to plunder down to the very marrow of your bones, you know, if you’re not going to actually do that, better to have the quiet.

I could have her. If I wanted. But I can’t. I couldn’t make a move, and I couldn’t run with it if she made a move, which I think she would do if we were ever drunk together. It would be too weird seeing her at the office; we don’t connect like that. It’s not a flirty, sassy banter type relationship, it’s wanting to ravage a budding child. She must be ovulating today because it’s especially bad. I’ll need to cum into a Staples® brand C-fold paper towel in the office bathroom later, thinking of her. The seed that should have been hers.

I want her very badly, and I could have her, but I can do nothing about it. Sexual harassment laws— the Sharia of our times.