It is an amazing sensation, and the searing release that floods over him feels just as good as anything else he could have ever wished for.
But as Lucas opens his eyes, he is greeted by the familiar sight of a garish plaster ceiling, and he does not feel the awkward and antediluvian bar chair under his ass; instead, he feels the familiar warmth of a mattress.
The man has a blanket draped over him and pillows stacked beneath his head. How did he get here after having his cock sucked at the bar and end up in his own bedroom?
He jolts awake in a state of surprise and confusion, having no understanding what is taking place. There is no sign of Christine anywhere, and there is no explanation for how he might have returned; nonetheless, this does not make any sense.
There is no way that he was drunk enough to pass out, especially considering how quickly he arrived, and even if he had, he would have had some recollection of what was going on even if he did pass out.
But what was even stranger was that he didn't feel sick at all. He does not suffer from headaches, and he does not experience any stomach cramps or body aches.
It's as if he didn't drink anything at all, and now he's left sitting there in bed wondering what the fuck happened. It's like he didn't drink anything at all.
A minute later, his alarm clock goes off, startling him into looking over at it and revealing that it is really time for him to get up and get ready for work.
The day has just begun. Somehow.
It's not that any of this makes any kind of sense at all, but as he stares at the clock, he's left with a plethora of questions that he knows he has no time in the world to answer. Not that this makes any kind of sense at all.
The insanity of the situation notwithstanding, he must carry on with his day and proceed to the bathroom to take a shower.
Before he goes, he will send a text message to his pals, asking them where they went and if they helped him in getting him to his home.
There is probably no means to aid him in locating that Christine girl again, but the fact that she sucks cock like a freak makes it quite likely that he will attempt to get more of what she gives him.
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Even if the lights in his workplace are constantly turned up so high and cast a bit of an excessively harsh glare over everything around him, he can at least say that he is strolling in sober on a Wednesday morning, which is more than he can typically say.
Even though it is strange, he just accepts it and looks forward to getting through the rest of his day so that he can start preparing for what is unfortunately going to be another day of work after that.
Then another one to get him through the rest of the work week and into his weekend. He has become accustomed to the pattern, and he has come to terms with the fact that life in general consists of a certain degree of rigorous repetition.
Lucas received his degree and accepted his position in life, and he continues to roll along with it, assuming that in time things will look good; stick at it, and he will move on to a promotion and a better location past the typical fare of office grunts.
He has already achieved a satisfactory level of success in that endeavour and has advanced sufficiently in the establishment; however, he is still required to spend his entire day working at a keyboard in an office because his status is insufficient to qualify him for lunch meetings and the large paychecks that his superiors receive.
Therefore, at this point, he is in a holding pattern. He is working as hard as he possibly can while he waits for the monotony to end and for life to start getting interesting again, whenever that is scheduled to occur.
He has a cabin and a great chair for the time being, and he is holding out hope that his conservative new boss isn't going to be stomping about the floor again making sure that everyone is pulling their weight.
Given that he actually bothers doing his damn job and doesn't need the sword of force or other forms of intimidation hanging over his head in order to do so, he does not appreciate the attitude that he is being shown because it is an insult to his dedication and perseverance, and all of the ambiguous warnings and expecting shouts are just that.
But what more is there for him to do in this hopeless situation?
Talking back to his new employer is the surest way to end up being regarded as 'trouble' the next time his review comes up, and the more he stays in the swarm of cabins, the more he is likely to start building a relationship with the types of people who climb up church towers with sniper rifles.
It's still early in the morning, so most of the employees are milling around the aisles chatting to pass the time before they begin their shifts.
This is perfectly normal, but he can't help but notice one particular blonde who doesn't behave in any way that would be considered normal.
As Lucas looks onward, his chest tightens, and he almost drops his briefcase in surprise. He sees his neighbours talking to none other than Christine, and this causes him to be shocked.
She makes herself comfortable by leaning back against the external wall of his cabin as other adjacent workers make idle conversation with her.
Someone interrogates him before he has even finished coming closer. "Oh, and a pleasant morning to you! Have you met Christine yet? She came to us from the Chicago office, where she worked previously."
She says with a grin, "We actually have," and she moves away from the wall while extending her hand toward him. "We actually have. It's great to have you back," the speaker said.
The fact that he ran into the lady who had licked his cock the night before at the bar is the kind of coincidental meeting that he can overlook.
Even if it's not the best possible resolution to practically any problem, it's not the kind of thing that he won't be able to get over.
At least not in comparison to what Christine is wearing, which is completely inappropriate for her age.
She wears a white blouse that has a big opening all the way down her breasts, which aren't even truly supported by the tenths-of-a-cup that the top has beneath her plump double Ds because the blouse has a wide opening all the way down her breasts.
Her perky, lovely tits stand at eager attention, hanging out there, and she appears utterly casual about that fact, as though nothing is actually a problem here, and it's just a fully normal thing to wear.
The contrast makes her extremely short skirt look like it was made for a formal occasion, and he can't help but stare at her chest with a mixture of wonder and admiration in his eyes.
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This is a re-edit version and I have fixed almost every grammar mistake I found, but if you find some point them out. And don't forget to send gifts, golden tickets or some power stone.