The door was secure, or so he thought. With the windows closed, and the blinds drawn, he felt invisible. There was no room for mistake, he thought. He dragged the black leather chair from one corner of his office and positioned it just about two feet from the door- far enough to allow him ample time to adjust himself, but close enough to shut it, upon sudden intrusion. With his left side facing the door, he eased into the black leather chair.
His body was beginning to generate heat, leaving his armpits and temple with mild sweats. His heartbeat picked up speed, and was throbbing with ecstasy. Overpowered, he reached below. His left hand was halfway down there when suddenly he remembered he was to attend a board meeting scheduled to begin in about five minutes; he hesitated, hand suspended amid tension, but seized by the urge gnawing at his reasoning, he dismissed it as inconsequential, and dug further into his underpants. The turgid god below was a raging evil that needed immediate appeasement.
Legs slightly spread, back comfortably arched against the chair, he unzipped the brown khaki trousers as slowly as possible as the bulge wouldn’t permit any sudden access. He paused for a moment as his eyes darted back and forth, left and right, in search of something. “Oh, there it is,” he mumbled, leaping to his feet. He scurried towards the shelf and reached for a roll of tissue, and hurried back. There was only one thing left- a visual aid. His imaginative skill had grown rather weary and lethargic on account of his fading memory. It was the reason he had bought a phone with a high resolution display- he wanted a sense of verisimilitude. Quickly, he fumbled in his trousers’ left pocket, and brought out the shiny, black phone. He pressed his right thumb on the phone and it came to life. Faster than the cash counter, his wiry thumbs typed the obscene words, using the google feature on the phone. A myriad of pictures surfaced, stoking further his flaming urge.
Finally out of its cage, the turgid member- somewhat crooked in appearance -and standing with intent, had risen to a humongous size like a cassava flake soaked for hours. Now more tensed, and jerking to the trickles of dopamine wetting his brain, he grabbed his member, and with the dexterity of a conductor, stroked it up and down. Up. Down. Up. Down. He continued in a rhythmic sequence. Mouth wide open with tongue sticking out, he moaned with each stroke.
Meanwhile, the board meeting had commenced. His boss, Mrs. Grundy, looked around hoping to spot him, but he was no where to be found. His second absence in a row. Enraged, she excused herself from the meeting.
Back in his office, still, he was pulling and stroking like a driver dealing with a stiff Nissan gear. Just about when he was well settled in cloud nine, about to finish off, and utterly blind to the precarious state of his situation, the door burst open. Entered was his boss. Furious.
There was a brief pause. It seemed like eternity. They locked eyes. In his hand was his now flaccid member, still disgorging a whitish substance. He let go. His khaki trousers was instantly smeared with the gust of the raging tsunami. Befuddled, he sprang to his feet, gawking at his boss whose face had turned pale with horror. The woman, with her right index finger raised to the eye level, made a quick crucifix sign, and with a swift turn towards the door, bolted out of the office. No words exchanged.
Having regained his senses, like a madman, and with his trousers still halfway down, he chased after the woman, his member dangling along. “Oga, wait! Oga, wait! It’s the devil!” He screamed, cursing the day he discovered pornography.
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