Post Traumatic Stress Erectile Dysfuntion

Today I am in the middle of a week of training at work. Colleagues from the area offices take me and others into the small room and tell me about things that make me into a better worker and more kind person. 

I am in love with the people who train me.

I love you Trudy. 

Trudy is the most beautiful and clever woman I have ever met. She is tender and kind and sweet. Trudy, you will never know the secret and burning passion I have in my fragile heart for you. You will never understand the silent adulation which you cause.

When Trudy leans over the desk I do a small growing. 

I also love Mildred. Mildred does the morning training sometimes. I wrote a poem for Mildred:

Mildred,

Oh Mildred,

Mild Mildred,

When will we wed?

Mildred?

My Mildred

It is called Mildred.

I also love Rowena. Rowena is willowy and lithe like a silvery winter branch. She hands out all of the training booklets and it makes my heart pound to touch the pages she has touched. I wish that her glasses would fall off. There is nothing saucier than a ladies little spectacles falling all over the place. It is as though she is saying "For what I have planned, I would rather not be able to see."

I love you my three beauties.

My dream is that they are my wives and we live on a small canal barge somewhere inaccessible and private. In my dream they all have sex with me all of the time or rather whenever both parties agree in a loving and tender manner. 

I don't really love them I just want to have sex with them. 

I only ever had sex once and it didn't go very well.

I want to try it again some time in case I put it in the wrong bit or whatever.

OH NO