Turkish delight and walnuts

My guy recently returned from Cairo. He is a thoughtful, sweet guy. He tends to bring me a souvenir back from his travels.

He brought me Turkish delight, but the Egyptian version. It's basically a long cylindrical piece of Turkish delight, with whole walnuts inside.

On Thursday, my guy came into work at roughly the same time as I did. It shocked me. I tend to get to the office sooner than he does. He was obviously still adjusting to the time difference. I was obviously still waking up.

We both have rolling laptop bags. We rolled them into the elevator.

"The Turkish Egyptian delight is delightful," I said to my guy. "It reminds me of your member when it's happy."
"I'm glad you like it," my guy said, laughing.
"The walnuts are so fresh. So are yours," I said in a cheeky way.

Last week, I was working from various meeting rooms on the second floor of our office building. My guy was on the third, so we wished each other a good day when I was about to leave the elevator. Of course, we'd be having lunch together in a few hours. Still, he blew me a kiss before the elevators closed.

His sweetness never goes unnoticed.

Souvenir from Amsterdam

My guy claims that he is horrible at the art of gift-giving. I disagree. Well, he is better now at it than he was a year ago.

As you know, my guy travels quite a bit. When we first started seeing each other, we bought me chocolates and a mug from Portugal. He then went to Germany and bought me another mug.

Although I have always appreciated that he thinks about me when he is away, the trend of getting a mug each time was a bit scary. He agreed and has mixed things up quite a bit since our little chat. Frankly, it was difficult to delicately tell him that I can only drink out of so many mugs in a week. He was incredibly understanding.

Last Friday, we were talking in the office. My guy opened one of his desk drawers and took out a carefully wrapped package. He told me that he has had it all week and meant to give it to me. I thanked him and unwrapped it.

He gave me this cute momento from Amsterdam:

"It's nice," I said. "The couple reminds me of us. We kiss a lot."
"Yes," my guy agreed. "There is some assembly required. The windmill requires screwing. So, if you need screwing, you know where to go."
"The blue reminds me of how good you look in that colour," I pointed out.
"Too bad the boy doesn't show how hard his cock is," my guy stated with a sheepish grin on his face.
"It's just anatomically incorrect," I said factually. "There's also a hole at the bottom of the windmill."

Yep, I had my finger up the windmill. My guy laughed at our sexually innuendo-laced conversation.

My guy wanted to get me salt and pepper shakers that were penises. That would have been funny if they said something or moaned while I had my hands wrapped around them.