Mr. cold fingers!

The worst thing about going to work with this London weather is to get to a place and being greeted by clients with cold hands. Of course I am not talking about the odd shaking hands but those ones that love to stick a cold finger in your ass. It is not nice, at all.

Yesterday I had a busy Saturday, going back and forward from Central to East and then from East to Central and west London too. It wouldn’t be that bad if we didn’t had so many delays but, well, we can’t expect public services to work properly when the weather changes.

I honestly think we started with the wrong foot because even before saying hello the client complained straight away that I was 6 minutes later. Shit! Only 6 minutes!

For those ones not familiar to England, don’t start thinking that here everything is sharp on time.
Bulshit!
British have that reputation of being very good with time and lots of them are indeed, specially the old generation, but there are delays everywhere and people always have something to blame: the snow, the rain, the tube, the road works for the 2012 Olympic games, the police stopping you for a quick searching as it has been increased due the terrorist attacks 4 years ago and a lot of teenage gangs fighting recently.

There is always an excuse. I was so fed up after a journey full of disruptions that I even didn’t bother to give him an excuse, I just politely said sorry – even thought in my head I was thinking of saying more something like: 6 fucking minutes? I had problems with the transport you son of a bitch!. Instead it was more like: ‘Oh, I am sorry about that. But I am here now and it is nice to meet you’.

The guy, a 50 something with a very short neck and fat nose, wasn’t that bad in bed, a part from the fingers issue as he constantly insisted of using his fingers down my anus. I distracted him with an intense blowjob and less than half an hour later I was back the tube. It still felt cold and dump but, at least, I got rid of Mr. Cold Fingers and kept my bum warm!