Dreaming of Jizzy by Y. Falstaff

goodbye to him.
     
    “Awesome! I'll see you later when I get home. Make yourself at home, all right?” Rick quickly told her.
     
    “I will, Master! I will! I can't wait for you to return!”
     
    As Rick shut the door behind him, he found that he had a long smile on his face and felt like he was on top of the world for the first time since he could remember. Somehow he had this smoking hot genie from out of a bottle making all his wishes come true. She had just literally made his dick into something he could be proud of and allowed him to titty fuck her until he blew all over her face, even if there wasn't much cum involved. Plus, she couldn't wait to get fucked by him later that night. Honestly, Rick realized, this was more than any man could want in the world. Skipping down to the elevator, Rick marveled how last night, passing through that exact same hallway, he was so down and dejected, but now, he felt like he was a completely changed man and things were finally looking up for once in his life.
     

 
An Innocent Mistake
     
     
     
     
    Rick was, of course, fifteen minutes late to work that morning because he missed his train, but that didn't stop him from spending his entire subway ride daydreaming of stuffing Candace like a Thanksgiving Day turkey with his new and improved super-dick. All his lustful thoughts on the way to work that morning literally had his prick almost permanently stiff in his slacks, and he was happy that he had purchased a newspaper, which he kept half-opened over his crotch on the subway, to hide his many dreamy erections throughout the train ride to work.
     
    Unfortunately, Rick knew that sneaking into work was next to impossible, and he also knew that he'd more likely than not hear something from his boss, Tanner, about his tardiness some time that morning, even though he couldn't honestly remember the last time he was late for work. After skipping through his department floor and sliding into his cubicle, Rick threw his things down, turned on his computer, and he waited a few seconds while it warmed up. Once the screen was finally up, Rick immediately opened his company email folder, his client database, and then his office instant message service. He knew the instant message service would immediately give his tardiness away, as company policy was; if you were at your desk, you were to have it on at all times.
     
    All around him, Rick could already hear his coworkers on their phones with clients, talking shop and trying to coax their clients down whatever road to financial success his managers had laid out for them. While each individual employee had the liberty to sell whatever financial products were available on the market, the company always had its own agenda and fed their employees particular investment products that would be more beneficial to the company's bottom line. Rick honestly thought the whole thing a bit underhanded, but it was just the nature of the business in that particular industry, not only at his own company, but pretty much everywhere else he had worked as well.
     
    As he quickly clicked through the emails in his mailbox, Rick deleted some emails and then prioritized others according to their particular urgency. Taking a quick peek over at his phone, he saw the red light blinking, indicating he had messages. Every day at his company was the same old shit, and Rick kind of thought of every single day like he was a race car driver in a race against time. He knew he had an enormous number of tasks to accomplish daily, and if he didn't get through them all that day, they'd backlog onto tomorrow, which is honestly the last thing he wanted to have happen. Not only would he effectively fall behind in his workload, but when you didn't tend to your clients' needs right away, they tended to complain. If they complained, then you were placed on the managers 'radar', as he and his coworkers so fondly called it. Being on the radar was a recipe for disaster and a mountain of