I’m becoming a fan. Is this where all the sadochists of masoism migrate too? Not typos, I make up my own words.
Most of the public assumes I don’t work at all during the summer. They’re absolutely right. I haven’t gone to campus since June 8. For the past two months, I’ve been starting my day with a pitcher of frozen margaritas on my back patio. I have limes flown in from Cuba every morning. After my third margarita, I go for a swim. All professors have Olympic-size pools in their yards. People tell you it’s dangerous to swim while drunk. But I’m a professor. I’m smarter than you, so me drunk is more like an average person sober.
Next, I have sex with my pool boy. I don’t know his name, but I call him Jacques because he’s very tan and muscular. Our foreplay involves him giving me an hour-long massage while I read Foucault in the original French. Then we make love in my home spa. Our love leads us…
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