I'm calling this series "Train Erotica" and whether it becomes a series or not remains to be seen.

I guess it's entirely dependent on how horny I am on morning trains. I'm horny a lot of time so I guess this could go for a while.

A girl in front of me. A girl behind me. Girls all around me.

The constant problem of man: an erection around every corner and a stagnant point stopping you from relieving the burden that you carry at every stop.

It is the thing that many men carry around with them so frequently and yet I usually don’t feel afflicted by it all.

But then today I happen to glance upon a young lady of about twenty-five, young to me and a Lolita to the older generation. She’s of an Indonesian background with a fleshy pink lipstick covering the full lips where she’d kiss something that I can only suspect would be incredible.

A gold cross sits above the top of her breasts, her goosebumps showing me that perhaps it was too cold for her to wear something so short and yet irresistibly sexy at the same time.

I yearn to lean in close to her, the abruptness of the train crowd removing the happenstance that two commuters so frequently have to endure and kiss her hard, a rare stranger even rarer in a hat kissing someone who has never been met, heard of, or cared for. I would kiss her and grab that soft ass under the jeans which I didn’t pay attention to: something which would certainly be given now after a long, tongue-heavy, sultry kiss with a stranger.

In my dreams, I want to free her breasts from the confines of their cloth prison, a jail to which I have the keys for. My tongue would deliver warmth and clear up her case of the cold while still delivering the shudder that she would get from the idea of doing this with a complete and utter stranger.

Something so weird and yet so utterly fucking brilliant at the same time.

And in an instant, it’s gone. Off at the next stop with me left to me thoughts and hopes and fantasies and erection.

The erection at every corner, every pace, every stop and all I can do is hope it goes away before work starts.

She was amazing. Naked with just the right amount of shine on her. He knew what he'd do when he approached her.

It would be simple. He'd put it in. He'd put it in hard. Then he'd push down on it and let her feel his white piece. The warmth would flow all around them and they'd both be intertwined, connected, in mind and in goal.

It would be simple. His piece in her slit.

It would be glorious.

He looked around at his furnishings. The bare kitchen with the checkered floor. The flickering fluorescent light over head. The hum of the fridge reverberating the room all around them.

He looked at her and he looked at her naked slit, licking his lips once again.

The crevice, that part, the rift where everything happened. 

It was all he could do to contain himself from thrusting himself forward.

'Fuck it,' he thought. 'If I'm going to enjoy myself, I might as well do this right.'

He approached the tasty slit, an opening sitting on the kitchen counter waiting to be filled. He looked at it and could smell what was inside. Paul imagined all who had come before, all who had been. 

What pieces had gone in and out of this aperture? White? Brown? Black? Were they more experienced, were they better off from when they went in?

With that last thought, Paul undid the bag surrounding his loaf of bread and pulled a slice out. Paul licked his lips as he thrust the slice of white bread into the toaster pulling hard on the handle to warm it up. As the heater glowed red, Paul almost let out a sigh of relief as he realised it was really going to happen: he'd finally get to eat something tonight!

But before I do… a warning:

The following lines of text might make you aroused, confused, disturbed, bored, annoyed, irritated, disgusted, or convulse and explode. Reader discretion is advised.

Ok… so we start with the following statement…

"Oh yes. Let me fuck you. I'm fucking you in your tight ass. You're tight because I'm so big. Yeah bitch."

…and then with a bit of literary tact (I'm lying about that bit), we can turn it into…

"Such joy as I pound your tight virginal asshole with my throbbing member the size of a small Ethiopian child! I let it breach your insides, in and out, in and out, until war is made with several countries!"

Shakespeare would be proud.