Vintage stains this entire scene.
I'd say it was the 1930's?
There I was.
I'm looking at me.
My posture was excellent.
Sitting their I looked like an intelligent virgin.
Caged in a Deluxe Corset.
Eager to share my story with someone.
I'm on a train.
On a train to no where.
Train of chance.
Path of mystery.
The ride is smooth.
This is all drenched in classy.
Fashionable and feminine.
Slender and young.
Luxurious black face netting covers my luscious rose stained lips.
Still as can be. Yet, I scream so much.
Smelling of Blackberry Vanilla fragrance.
Clinking of wine glasses near the back.
Jealous of me.
I eagerly watch this dream.
I see him facing me just a seat ahead of mine.
I catch his eyes for a very small moment.
Quickly, he looks down.
He knows I am staring at him, I can feel it.
I want him to.
Then again I don't.
Funny how it goes.
Clean facial hair defines.
Adams apple succulence.
Bet he is real soft and rough where needed.
Hands like a God.
He's an Artist.
I almost smelt, Poet.
Wonderin' how them lips of his moved.
What noise he made.
How he touches himself too.
His hands were his eyes.
His hands were his hungry mouth.
His hands were his heart.
The shifting light through all the pass-bys hit his figure perfectly.
Primmed and pretty.
Thin white button up.
Hey! He keeps slowly moving his finger tips against one another!
His shirt, oh his shirt.
Yes, it's a white button up.
Snap buttons I believe.
Lovely noise when snapped apart.
Cuffs rolled to the elbow like them Artists always do.
Black nicely fitted vest and even a worn out bow-tie, dark blue.
Hugging that beauty of a chest.
Black slacks laid on those lengthy strong legs of his.
Standing, I bet he's about 6'2"
His eyes were Alien.
Collected dust specks from water stained paintings.
And hints of golden rays shoved in from the sun.
Sliver cracks send shivers up the spine.
His forearms looked like a delicacy.
Edible veins flowed and pulsated.
He looked so alive.
More alive than they.
I tried to keep in the saliva that was flooding my mouth.
Mm, deep throat.
Wish to taste him.
I hope he hasn't noticed?
I must look like a fool in awe.
Sepia taints our clothes and skin - All except my rose red lips.
He looks at me - I am quick to look away.
Stare out the window act like your sane.
Outside in the sun, outside with you.
The sun feels like warm coco butter milk moisturizing my skin.
Dance with your eyes, dance for him.
Okay, a quick look and a flirty youthful side smirk.
-- I did it.
HOLY SHIT, is he gorgeous.
Thirsty for his cum.
His hair is combed back.
But he's a wild child, I can tell.
Messy wet hair hanging down as we shower together.
Hey! Don't let your fantasies run away with you!
God, I'm lonely.
Lost in my day dreaming.
Then . . .
With a quick wisp around and a slick sorta slide of his
classy black shined shoes he plops into the seat directly in front of mine.
We are now but an inch apart at the knees.
-- I play.
Hard to get but wanting it so, so bad.
Take me in.
Hold me close.
Go in deep.
Crossed slender legs shift to the side.
Flatten out my dress upon my hungry thigh.
He watches me closely.
Classy and clean.
Tight and soft.
Want his fingering.
I know exactly what I'm doing.
This is beauty.
Sunlight sinks in his eyes so deep like it wants to be there and never leave.
I think I just melted.
I stare, stare, stare.
I'm in a trance.
I'm good at this.
High on this mystery man.
"So where are you headed?"
Oh God, he spoke!
I (gracefully) choke and reply:
"Mm, no where in particular - Just going I guess."
The apple in his throat moved beautifully when he spoke.
He spoke like a truth.