Day Traders

Day Traders

A few days ago, I talked about the night crawlers, those guys who haunt the hook-up sites on the graveyard shift. But when the sun shines, they crawl into their Dracula coffins, and another group of horny men take over, who I would like to collectively call the Day Traders.

They’re the guys who hit you up at eleven in the morning or two in the afternoon. Some are off from work or out of work, others retired, a whole other bunch just plain losers living off the system, and still others surfing the web or phone apps while they’re working for The Man. (How the hell they have the time is beyond me – no wonder the Federal Reserve says productivity in the U.S. is continuing to decline.)

Now, you on the opposite end of this little cyberspace tete-a-tete, may be home, off, out of work, retired, or living off the system yourself, and his naked body shots with his big, fat dick as hard as an iron pipe intrigues you, and creates a stirring in your loins. Especially when you see he isn’t hitting you up from some fucken country you never heard of, but according to the GPS God, is just 7.2 miles away.

You: “Hot pics. Wish I had that dick in my mouth right now.”

He: “Before or after you plow me with yours?”

You: “Anyway you like it buddy. So when?”

To which He responds:

“Hey, man, just surfing.”

Or better yet:

“I’m at work right now. Maybe later.”

That glorious hard-on you had just a minute ago like when you were thirteen suddenly vanishes like the time your mother caught you masturbating in the basement.

Oh, yea, hope springs eternal, and you may even exchange numbers, but as all of us who are addicted, like me, to the web know too well, “maybe later” never ever comes.

But I guess that’s why God created the Night Crawlers, right?

Wonder why our dicks don’t know which way is up anymore?

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