I've Been At Work For 28 Hours With 20 Left To Go. My Partner's In Taking A Shower And Blasting A Yeehaw

I've been at work for 28 hours with 20 left to go. My partner's in taking a shower and blasting a yeehaw cover of I Write Sins Not Tragedies. My boss is at his desk snoring loud enough to make his keyboard rattle. His partner is changing and washing his uniform for the 3rd time in 4 hours. Who knows why. I haven't left this building since I walked in 28 hours ago.

There's a special intimacy in sliding an arm around someone's waist between layers of clothing. Like, under a jacket but over a shirt or vest.

.

That cut away in Sexy Beast of Ian McShane getting railed in the shower, throwing his head back in slow motion as water flies off his dark curls, his face contorted in pain and pleasure and his mouth crying out in his ecstasy

We knew he was dead. You could tell from the road. It was work to get him out. "Take your time," my partner said, "There's no rush." He cradled the man's head so carefully as we worked him free. "No rush, no rush. There's time to do right by him."

I think I might eventually nuke this blog. If I do, this post will stand as a way for people to know this isn't an ageless porn bot. Maybe I'll make a sideblog and let that run things for awhile