The day I started working in my current job, two years ago now, I had the feeling that this was the place I wanted to be. The place is a small office with only two people in it: my boss and myself. It's a quiet place, so quiet that you could even say it's boring, but for what we do there it's more than enough. My boss does investments and, as he says, that's a job that requires calm, a lot of calm to be able to stay focused on every decision you make. As for me, I am my boss's secretary. But there was something else that influenced me to feel good in that place from the moment I arrived there: my boss. Manuel, that's his name, is a man nobody would probably notice: older (63 years), not very tall, chubby and a person who in everything acts in an unremarkable way. That's what made me notice him from the moment we started sharing a workspace. Well, all that and something else: the prominent bulge in his crotch. Although Manuel doesn't wear tight clothes, that part of his anatomy doesn't go unnoticed. Almost from day one, when I got home after work, I felt the need to masturbate thinking about that naked body, with his belly on my back and penetrating me until I was filled with his hot semen. And it got worse when, on one of the first hot days, I saw Manuel change his shirt for something more comfortable; before me appeared a man with a body full of thick, black, shiny hair. My God, that night, I couldn't sleep because of the tremendous excitement. I was unable to get my penis to become flaccid and only the tiredness and the pain of my penis after an inhuman amount of masturbation, made me fall asleep. But the next morning I decided that this could not go on; I had to find out if Manuel could become my lover. But, according to Saramago, "when you want something, the whole universe conspires to make you get it". And sometimes it does. That same morning, Manuel arrived at the office changed. His clothes, though still discreet, were a little more daring than usual. And he was awkward, distracted, not paying attention to what he was doing. And every now and then, he would throw me fleeting glances over his glasses, as if he didn't want me to notice those glances. It was obvious: he wanted something and didn't know how to ask for it. So I decided to help him. Are you OK? I asked him in a tone of voice that sounded very "sweet", fearing that Manuel might think so too and not like it. But, of all the answers that might have seemed unexpected, he gave me the one that I would never have imagined: "You pass me", he said in such a direct way that, literally, I was left with my mouth open.