“Dreamer, You Know You Are A Dreamer…”

With my sincere apologies to Supertramp (the band, not my wife, bada bum bum, I got a million of them. I’ll be here all week, don’t forget to tip your wait staff.)

If you’ve been reading my other blog, and most of you haven’t by the looks of the stats, you know that I’ve finally given up the SILs as lust objects. I just don’t have the will power/strength/gumption/interest to keep the blood flowing, so to say. The fact that they annoy me so much lately has a lot to do with it, plus, I really don’t give a shit anymore. I’m also working on the co-workers as well. I have my days where I’d love to fuck them, but mostly now, it’s more of an “eh” feeling. The fact that they appear to be getting more stupid (or maybe it’s lazy) is weighing heavily into the decision too. YIKES, I can’t believe people forget the simplest things, even after I’ve just told them what to do!

So, where does that leave me? In a vast wasteland of broken dreams and fantasies. I look around the the wreckage stretches for miles. Over there is the dream of threesomes with ex-girlfriends and classmates. Here’s my college aged fantasy of dorm fucking. Waaaaaaay over there we see what’s left of my hopes of seeing some SIL tit. Then there’s the burned out buildings that are the ghosts of swinging dreams and desires. Yes, I’m empty right now. Void of all sexual desire and fantasy. At least in real life.

I had a dream last night that left me hard and achy. In it, we were at a party and TW and I were sitting on a couch. This black guys walks up, whips out his cock to show TW, then puts it away and sits down next to her. She’s ALL OVER him and the dream ends with her holding on to his BBC and getting ready to titty fuck him. Hey, at least someone’s getting some action. 😉

P.S. My toe hurts.