I have completed training for my new blue collar job. I work now 220 miles from home and stay in a campus known as "The M@n Camp. " My wife had a dream the other night that I was having an affair. Even if I managed to alter my gynophillic orientation, I am a bit fatigued by my work day. The heavy equipment I operate is much too large not to have power steering and brakes, but it is surprisingly exhausting. I awake at 5:30 each morning, and by the time I am back in camp, fed, showered and in bed its usually about 9:30. This leaves time only for a little fairly dreamless sleep.
On the plus side, after working 90-110 hours in 7-8 days I get 6-7 days off. A whole week of uninterrupted kink. Whatever shall I do.
I was sick the last few days of work and was a little relieved when my request to work an 8th successive 12.5 hour day of overtime was not granted. This left me coming home a day early. Having had my libido on hold for a week, I was surprised the the prospect of being able to come home anytime I was alert enough to spend 4 more hours on the road dodging large trucks laden with dangerous chemicals driven by idiots with anger management problems and abetted by corrupt local police departments**.
I started out at 2:00am having gotten 5 hours of sleep and having run out of decongestant. I drove an hour to the nearest 24 hour WalMart and bought some drugs that were alleged to be non-drowsy. They only widened the distance between the two sets of lines I was trying to keep my car between. Depth perception only works if you keep your eye1ss focused in the same direction. I pulled into a rest area on a reservation that seemed from the vandalism to indicated that that particular tribes youth has not made much progress towards civilization in the last 15 years. Sad really that such a once proud group of warriors descendants are reduced to "claiming" pieces of BIA property with a magic marker and pointed scratching implements. I'd have more respect I think if they would swoop down out of the hills and carjack me. That thought inspired me to amble down the road a piece to a well lit parking lot of a closed grocery where some 18 wheelers were tied down for the night. I closed my eyes a few minutes and was asleep but cramped. Deciding I was too sick and tired to drive I curled up in the back seat of my sub-compact and slept for an hour.
I finally got home nearly 6 hours after my weary journey began. The first trip up to my interview had taken only 2 hours and 45 minutes and involved losing a couple of SUV's unwisely chosen by the state police for pursuit. Given that I was too tired to enjoy a good high speed dash through mountain passes, it should be no real surprise that I wasn't that ready for sex when I got home. My brother-in-law does similar long shift work and his wife had reported that I would likely be in no condition to put out when I came home. I believed my superior libido would overcome this notion but I was wrong. It took several naps and about 15 hours of decompression before I worked up the urge to ravish the wife.
Guiding her head under the covers to my less than fully erect cock quickly reminded it what its purpose was in life. Fully turgid I found that I needed to bury it to the hilt in her. I was plunging away hissing dirty filthy things in her ear until she quickly turned the tables. I am constantly amazed how I can spin some long, involved fantasy that makes her writhe in enjoyment, and how quickly a few succinct words from her can turn that fantasy on its side and make me come long before my plans to ravish her endlessly are through.
**My last trip home a tanker laden with highly corrosive material attempted to intimidate me into exceeding the speed limit of 65 mph by a large margin. I am not opposed to speeding per se for he or I but I don't take well to bullying. Since we seemed to be playing a game of who has the largest cock I wasn't about to concede as my rig at work is easily 4 times the size of his. I finally forced him to pass my sub-compact which by the way can and has done easily double the speed limit at times. I got on my phone and was reading off the numbers on the back of his rig when he decided to slam on his rakes in a silly attempt to make me rear-end him. Turns out a 2,000 lb car with four wheel disk brakes and speed rated tires slows faster than an 18 wheeler driven by a nimrod. The local police department when I attempted to have him subjected to a sobriety test told me that I was lucky it happened in their jurisdiction as they would have cited me for impeding the flow of traffic.