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He lifted it over his head to show herbefore he started briskly walking back."Do you think there's anything in it?" Sara asked.Dave took a moment to catch his breath again before he answered. "Idon't think so." He gave the bottle a gentle shake. "I don't feel likeanything's shifting around in there. I don't hear any rattling either."He glanced down at the bottle in his hand. "Still there's only one sureway of knowing."He tried to pull out the stopper. "Won't move," he muttered."Try turning it," Sara suggested.It worked. "Feels like it's moving on a groove," he told her. "Thanksfor the idea." At that moment, the stopper came free. He let it dropand held the bottle upright. "No sense in anything spilling out."Nothing did. Dave pulled his lighter from his pocket and opened it. Hewas about to use the light to look down into the bottle, when a smallpuff of dark green smoke shot from its mouth. "What the hell..." heexclaimed in surprise.A column of the same dark green smoke. I decided to open it up a bit, since if was relatively safe. So I scooted my chair back away from the table so as to remove the cover a bit more. Then it was a full fist stroke this time, unlike the others that were more single finger on the sweet spot. I looked straight ahead at the girls at the counter as I shot ropes of thick cum out onto the carpet of Wendy’s. I then finished my meal, and decided that cleaning my mess on carpet was much easier. I dropped my sixth public load in my pants. However, there was a woman standing only feet from me, and I just missed eye contact with a young hottie at the point of no return. I had been wanted to blow a load while placing my order at a restaurant or something like that. I wanted to experience an orgasm while close to a stranger. I had to make a bank deposit, and so went to the bank. Upon approaching the teller and making the deposit, I had my hand in the “pocket” of my masturbation pants. Luckily she took a bit longer than usual to.
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I was ready for Tammie to say a word, a fucking word, to me. I was pissed. When she came into my cube, around ten-thirty, I was ready to let her hold it, then I noticed the ineffable sadness etched onto her face. ‘Jeff,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t now she’d run off like that.’ ‘Yeah,’ I replied sharply, ‘you coulda mentioned to her I had kids. And she’s not as friggin smart as you made out to me. She assumed I was divorced, and never asked me. Like, is she retahded or something?’ Tammie lowered her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated. ‘Tammie?’ I said. ‘You don’t EVER play matchmaker with me again. You got that? NEVER. I will personally file a grievance against you. I love you, but you’re a fucking busybody.’ She repeated herself, and left my office. I’d probably lost a friend, and friends like that I did not need. ++++++ Three weeks later, on a Friday evening, I was busy in the kitchen fixing our family favorite Friday evening repast. The doorbell chimed, and though it broke a home.

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