Are you staring at my boobs?

The Sweet Escape:

Oh dear, that lagging necklace thingy you have got going on there, it is mesmerizing. Its curvatures are ridiculously tormenting, with darling sparks of glares. I just can’t take my eyes off it. It seems to be embedded with darkish tones of silver, with a surface having a smooth appearance. Oh, am sorry, what were you saying? I got carried away, am in to precious things. Worry less, you now have my full attention. And forgive my manners, it has been a long day with lots of bullshit. Things are not going exactly as I expected, but who am I kidding, it is a roller-coaster of total chaos and disaster lately. Does anything ever go according to plan?

I know what you are thinking: you think am insane. That is not totally true, okay, alright, to a certain extent, I may be insane. But really, have you taken a closer look at your life? I mean, you look retardedly gorgeous and beautiful. I am all here like whoa, she seems to have everything going perfectly her way. Am I right? Don’t worry honey, you don’t have to answer that. Am sure you will simply play all humble, but inside your soul, you will be feeling all merry and peaceful. Well, you may start uttering out phrases such as: no, my life is also messed up; trying to make I feel better, how sweet. But seriously, look at I, here I am, admiring a complete strangers necklace, imagining how it would look like on I, yet she has a vibe of I seeming to stare at her succulent boobs.

On second thought, now that you mentioned it, pretty, gorgeous miss, your boobs are ridiculously charming. I mean, they look too even for life. I can’t imagine how you sway them around without hitting them in people’s faces. Alright, that sounds a bit inappropriate, but come on, one needs to appreciate good things once they encounter them. I may never bump into you again, so please, allow I to appreciate your boobs too. But my focus is still on that lagging necklace. Where did you grab it from? As in, purchase it from? Forgive I, I tend to get all clumsy when I see extremely good stuff. I would ask to touch it, but it’s too close to your skin, and I don’t think I washed my hands earlier on after taking a shit.

Don’t blame I: please, I know all about proper hygiene and the five F’s, so allow I to shit blame unto my supervisor. I mean, she’s hot but she has this high pitched super irritating voice. At times, I wonder how she screams like, while having fun in bed? You know what I mean? Right? She at times makes I run eranes for her, so I could rig her condo with sound recorders, but I don’t think she has a sex life. She is too focused and ambitious. The other day she skipped out on a dinner date, with this hot smoking hunk, to file reports, which could be done on a next day. Not that I am gay, but I see myself making out with this guy. His hair, oh my, sleek and smooth, I wonder how he curls it?

Oh shit, my supervisor’s lunch is getting cold, got to go, but that’s a cool necklace.

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