martes, enero 25, 2011

Metro Thoughts.

In the metro, there are eight men with me, all above 40 years of age. I could fuck any one of them. Not that I want to, but I could. I am between average and real good in bed, so, they could have a nice time; it wouldn’t be a burden or a punishment for them, that’s what I mean.

Imagine being 44 or 56, sick of your wife, of your nagging children, of the hideous metro smell, fed up with your job. Some woman, some 28-year old woman that looks a lot younger; hardly any tits, mess of a hair, not particularly attractive, but still, not ill-looking, comes close to you and simply starts to flirt.

    “Next stop, I know a hotel”
She says. Would you go?

With those old men around me I start to wonder about the eight possible endings to the story. I want to know. How would they undress? What kind of things would they ask for? Are any of them good in bed, any of them terrible? What do they like to be called? And what pet name would they give me?

That is my sickness; I want to know too many things, those casual endings, possible interactions. I find them completely interesting. And yet, as much as I am burning with doubts and desire to take action, I don’t, because… well… the hell!? This is the freaking metro! And those men are rather nasty! I am sick, for sure, I’ll grant that to anyone, but I am not that jaded. Not right now, thank you.

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