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After two years of working at a below the line advertising agency, I decided to start my own business. I had been moonlighting for several months, and realised that with the work I was doing at night, unbeknownst to my fulltime employer, I could actually make a reasonable living going it alone. With frugality, and a substantial reduction in travelling expenses, I would get by. It was a nerve-racking decision, but within a couple of weeks I knew that I had done the right thing. Working from home was fucking awesome! A friend working at an opposition agency, told me about a brief that had been sent out to several agencies. He informed me that apart from my former company, several other agencies would also be submitting art work to a well-known paint company, to redesign the artwork on their paint tins. Having met the lady in charge of that division on a few occasions, isvecbahis I phoned her, and after explaining my situation, asked if she would allow me to make a submission. Somewhat condescendingly, she agreed to consider a proposal from me. I was very familiar with their current packaging, as my previous employer had done the artwork years before. I slaved night and day over the next two weeks, and presented, what I believed to be a fantastic concept. Upon delivering it and asking for her, I was dismissively told to leave it at the reception desk. I was now in the hands of the advertising gods. Five days later, I got a call from Ms Condescension informing me that I had won hands-down, and that my tender had blown her directors away. The following week I had a few meetings with her, and by Friday the deal was signed and sealed. I had just made a shitload of money, isveçbahis giriş with a promise of much more business in future. Totally elated, I decided to visit my favourite gay bar that evening to celebrate. With my recent hectic schedule, I had not been there in two months. Upon my arrival I encountered an acquaintance I had not seen in a while. We weren’t ever great friends, but always chatted when bumping into one other at the bar. When our conversation got down to recent sexual activity, my cupboard was bare. Carlin, however, was brimming with news. Excitedly, he told me that he was having sex twice a week with a hot policeman, named Rob. I smiled, reflecting upon the fact that my mother’s younger sister was married to a policeman, named Rob. When I asked where Rob was stationed, shock number two hit home. They were at the same precinct. Shock three isveçbahis yeni giriş followed later, when I learnt that he was also married. Passing this off as a huge coincidence, we continued our conversation. When he however told me that the policeman had a huge scar which ran from below his right ear, to within half an inch of his mouth, I almost shat myself. Coincidence be screwed, this queen was being fucked by my aunts husband, simple as that! A few other details followed, that left me in absolutely no doubt that Rob was leading a double existence. Gail, mom’s sister was married to Rob. Gail was about thirty-three years old, and Rob thirty-four. Gail was eleven years younger than my mom, and because of their differing ages, I had always referred to them as Rob and Gail, dispensing with the aunt and uncle formalities. Rob was a hot man, and I had always thought him incredibly sexy. Standing six feet two tall, he was hunky and good looking. I would, however, never have thought in a million years that he would be fucking boys. Every two to three weeks, Rob would pop by my apartment for a cup of coffee.