Transportation Challenge - Group C

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If you would like your entry to be included in the collection submitted to Lit, please go to Imp's opt in thread.

Guesses only on this thread, please. Please continue to post any discussions to this thread.

Deadline for guesses is noon GMT on MONDAY.

The authors are listed below. There is one wild card.

• CrimsonMaiden
• drksideofthemoon
• FallingToFly
• gauchecritic
• Jenny_Jackson
• Liar
• matriarch
• oggbashan
• past_perfect
• RedHairedandFriendly
• SelenaKittyn
• starrkers
• Stella_Omega
• The_Fool
• TheeGoatPig

If any of the links are broken or incorrect, please post a correct one so we can get it fixed.

 

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1 - Jenny Jackson

Mandy’s Mouth

So here I am on the top deck of a bus rolling through Piccadilly Circus with the wind blowing through my hair. Mandy is on her knees in front of me doing some blowing of her own, when the transport agent comes up stairs to collect our fare. This is a predicament. My trousers are around my ankles, so there is no way I can reach my pocket. Mandy’s back is turned and can’t see the agent coming.

“You really should get up now, Mandy,” I told her.

“And I suppose you just hate this, luv?”

“No, ducky. But I suspect he won’t,” I said to her, pointing toward the front of the bus.

“Oh, shit,” Mandy said under her breath, jumping on to my lap.

This was turning out to be an even worse situation. “I hope you have money somewhere, Mandy. I really can’t reach my pocket from here.”

By now the agent is suspicious. “Hey! What’s going on here?” he demanded.

“Oh, nothing. We are just enjoying a summer ride,” Mandy said, smiling.

“And what’s this? Yer pants around your ankles? What have you two been up too?”

At that point, I was feeling very much caught in the act, so to speak. Mandy, on the other hand, knew exactly what to do. She looked up at the agent and smiled sweetly.

“Here, now. We’ll have none of this,” the agent announced loudly.

Mandy’s hand went straight to his crotch. The agent’s eyes got big and started to say something. But Mandy was too fast for him. Already she had his fly down and her hand was holding his cock.

The agent could only gape while Mandy wrapped her lips around his flaccid penis. “Well,” I said, “It looks like she’s taken care of the fare, alright.”

Mandy’s ass was squirming all over the place. Her skirt was hiked up around her waist, so wasting no time at all; I let my cock slide into her wet pussy. This was happening somewhat sooner than I had thought, but why miss the chance?

Now Mandy was bouncing up and down on my cock and sucking off the agent in unison. I would have to say, this was neither the best nor the worst fuck I’ve had. But it was one of the most interesting, especially when I looked up and could see secretaries watching from their office windows as we passed. Some laughed and pointed. Others covered their gaping mouths. But I did not really care.

What really bothered me was getting off the bus with my trousers sticking to my legs from my cum that dripped out of Mandy and her face covered with spunk from the agent. We must have been quit a disheveled sight.

Then we were both started laughing when we heard the agent behind us yelling, “What about the two fares?” Fuck him! I know from experience Mandy’s mouth is worth far more than the price of a fare.

 

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2 - past_perfect

Now, this was something else. I could only admire the stewards still walking upright with trays of empty glasses, keeping their balance despite the ferry’s heaving and slanting in this heavy swell. Most of the other passengers seemed to be satisfied with remaining in their seats, and judging by the greyish to green looks of their faces, the contents of their stomachs were in sync with the ship’s dance on the rough sea. I wasn’t feeling sick at all, just very tired and bored, as both my friends had run off to the toilets more than half an hour ago and not returned since.

I needed to do something, so swaggering past these rows of collective misery and trying to get to the upper decks to watch this spectacle outside seemed like a good option. The first exit was closed and walking straight lines was much more difficult than expected. I studied the ship’s layout next to the staircase to figure out where else I could get access to a sun deck, when the door opened and a figure emerged. A woman in her mid-twenties wearing a white tracksuit and carrying several bags from the duty free shop in both hands almost fell into my arms and I hastened to secure her there. She grinned apologetically.

“Sorry… fucking bags.”

“No probs.”

Her rosy cheeks were a mark of distinctiveness and made me wonder whether she had succeeded to get outside.

“Um… do you know if are there still any open exits on the deck above by any chance?”

“Nope, I just asked a steward. I’m bored shitless. The cinema is on this deck and he said the show will start in a few minutes, so I’m heading there,” she explained.

“Good idea. Mind if I join you? I could carry some of your bags.”

“Sure. Brilliant.”

In addition I offered her my arm, as the sideways movements of the ship appeared to get worse. I was chuffed to have found someone else who was seaworthy, bored and quite attractive too. We dipsy-doodled to the cinema, which was completely empty. She used up several seats to secure her bags and offered me a sip of vodka. Judging by her chattiness and the looks of the bottle, this had been her source of entertainment before she had met me.

The movie started, some James Bond flick, which I had seen already, but that was only a secondary impression, since she huddled up to me, her head resting on my chest and it felt completely natural to place my arm around her. The warmth of her body, the scent of her hair and the ship’s movements began to have an effect on me. The subsequent waves of arousal dwarfed those tossing and turning the ferry within minutes and soon left a telltale swelling in my pants. When I felt her hand clasping my steadfast sailor through the fabric, I just knew I would consider the angry sea a dear friend henceforth.

 

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3 - CrimsonMaiden

Two more days passed and Brent convinced himself after waking up alone both mornings that Agent Johnson told him the truth. It couldn’t possibly be a nightmare. So on that fourth morning, he steeled himself and headed off to work. Nothing on the street looked different than normal, but he had only sat on the bus for a few minutes before something odd happened.

A young couple boarded and occupied the large back seat next to Brent’s place. Instead of sitting down beside her companion, the young lady threw her legs over his and straddled his lap. Brent tried not to stare but found it hard to resist as the couple proceeded to make out in front of the entire bus full of people. Instead of appearing shocked, some people openly watched while others acted as though it was a common occurrence as the couple kissed noisily, their hands roaming over each others’ bodies.

The young man lifted the woman’s shirt to reveal her firm breasts, and Brent gasped at the wanton display. He shifted in his seat to hide the growing bulge in his pants as his body responded naturally to the sight of bare tits. When the young man brazenly bent forward and sucked a rosy nipple into his mouth, Brent glanced around expecting any moment to hear a shouted admonishment, but none came. Instead, an older man sitting opposite him unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. Wrapping his fingers around the stubby shaft, he masturbated as he watched the young couple. Had the world gone totally mad?

Brent sat unmoving as the young lady fumbled with her date’s pants and then lifted her skirt and mounted him. Unable to tear his eyes away from the copulating couple, Brent watched while the woman bounced up and down in her lover’s lap. The sounds of their fucking were unmistakable in the small interior of the bus. The lady moaned and threw her head back, her raven hair swinging about as she rode the man’s cock. Brent could hear the wet sounds of the man sucking at the hard pebbles of her nipples. He could smell the scent of the woman’s arousal as her moans grew louder. The pressure in Brent’s pants became uncomfortable as his cock responded to the titillating display and grew more erect.

Because of his preoccupation with the fucking couple, Brent almost missed his stop. “Wait!” he yelled as the bus driver grabbed the handle for the door and began to pull. “Wait! This is my stop!” Shoving his briefcase in front of the protrusion in his pants, he scrambled quickly down the aisle and hopped off the bus.

 

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4 - matriarch

Her. She.

Sarah fidgeted in her seat on the bus, nervous anticipation written all over her face, in her body language, in the way her eyes darted back and forth over the passengers.

Then the bus stopped, the doors opened, and Sarah craned her neck to see around the mass of passengers already on the packed commuter bus, to scan the new passengers boarding.

One by one the passengers mounted the steps, entered her field of vision, passed her scrutiny anonymously, until at last… a small, almost inaudible gasp passed Sarah’s lips, fingers covered her mouth as if to still the sounds of excitement desperate to escape her mouth. Sarah’s eyes locked on the woman. Her. She. The woman she saw every day as she travelled to work. The one she had first seen on a cold, wet, dreary day, months ago, as Sarah nervously made the unfamiliar journey to her new job.

The woman had been forced to sit next to Sarah, in the only empty seat left on the bus. Her perfume was the first thing to enter Sarah’s consciousness…subtle, light, barely discernable, but once you were aware of it, it was if it became absorbed into Sarah’s memory. She couldn’t forget it, could smell it in everything. Several times since that day, she had found herself turning suddenly in the street as that perfume assailed her senses. Each time she had been surprised to see it wasn’t the woman. Her. She.

Ever since that first day, Sarah had made sure she caught that bus. Never had she been so regular in her work attendance, so punctual, so reliable. Her weekends were an impatient nightmare of imagination; where she lived, how she lived, what she ate, where she slept, how she slept; Sarah imagined her bathing, showering, dressing; she imagined touching her, holding her, kissing her. She didn’t have the courage to imagine further; wouldn’t allow herself to.

Several times, Sarah had positioned herself and her bag on the bus seat to prevent anyone sitting near her, until she saw the woman mount the bus, then moving to the seat by the window in the hope she would sit next to her. Today Sarah watched the woman move down the aisle, eyes glancing quickly over the bus, searching for a seat.

And then it happened. The woman caught sight of Sarah.

And she smiled!!

She smiled!!

Sarah could hardly breathe, but she did manage to smile back, moving sideways in the seat, so the woman could sit next to her, which she did, positioning her own bag on her lap.

Taking a deep breath, Sarah turned to the woman beginning to speak, only to find the woman doing the same. They both burst out laughing.

The woman held out a slim tanned hand to Sarah, and spoke her first words. “Hi, I’m Kate.”

 

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5 - RedHaired&Friendly

Carpooling Cheerleaders
____________


“What the fuck did you do?” Sally asked Steven.

“Blew a tire,” he muttered and shut the engine off.

“Another one?” Jessica asked from the back seat.

“Another one?” Steven repeated her question. “Tabby blew one recently?”

“Yeah, a week or two ago,” Sally answered.

Steven rolled his eyes and ordered his sister’s cheerleading friends out of the vehicle. He walked to the back of the SUV and opened the hatch. “Aww fuck,” he growled, slamming it closed.

“What?” Danielle asked.

“She never got the tire fixed, so no spare. That’s the donut we blew.” Steven kicked the flat, wishing he hadn’t agreed to car pool for his sick sister and her friends.

The women cursed while Steven pulled out his cell phone. He dialed Tabitha and then hung up to stare at the four women. “Well?” Sally asked.

“Tabby’s gonna send mom and dad out after they get home,” he told her.

“When will that be?”

Steven shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s their anniversary.”

“So we’re stuck here for God knows how long,” Jessica said, uncrossing her arms and reclaiming her seat. Steven and the other girls followed suit. An hour passed and then another before Steven leaned his seat back and closed his eyes, begging that the Lord would grant him Sainthood when he died, because he had not yet killed the three perky pests.

He wasn’t sure what had awoken him as his eyes fluttered open; he listened to what he thought was silence for the first time in hours. He was wrong. Steven turned and stared into back seat.

“Shh, Sally, he’ll wake up,” Jessica whispered.

Steven’s eyes adjusted to the light that silhouetted the interior of the SUV. The moonlight spilled over the four naked girls that were teasing and stroking each others’ full hips, narrow waists, and upturned tits. His cock jerked to attention as he saw Sally’s hair, free of her ponytail, in the clenched fist of Jessica, who was pushing the woman’s face deeper into her cunt.

His cock jerked in response. His gaze shifted and he watched Danielle’s mouth move from one of Jessica’s tits to the other. Jessica growled low, as her hips began to rise and fall with the motion of her friend’s tongue thrusting in and out of her.

Soon Steven had his cock out and his hand wrapped possessively around it. Jessica’s eyes caught his gaze and she winked, before licking one of her fingers and pushing it into Danielle’s upraised ass. He moved his hand in the same rhythm that all the girls seemed to be using, from Danielle’s nipple sucking and biting to Sally’s forceful fuck of Jessica’s cunt.

He listened to the sounds and watched the sights of the perfectly formed dames fondle and stroke, lick and suck. In time his balls tightened and his seed coated his shirt, soaked into the material, causing his stomach to become sticky with milk.

“Gonna car pool more often?” Jessica asked, grinning.

“Hell yeah!” he answered.

 

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6 - starrkers

Another grey seat on a grey platform in a grey station, waiting for a grey train; it suited his mood perfectly, even the weather was grey. He dumped his duffle bag between his feet, sat on the grey seat and checked the time.
There was still twenty minutes to kill. He could get something to eat, but railway station food was as grey as the decor; he just didn’t want to know what was passing for news anymore, so that ruled out buying the paper and he was too broke to buy a book.
Shrugging deeper into his coat and stretching his legs out around his bag, he settled into the only free entertainment – watching the other denizens of the modern transportation system. He spent a couple of minutes watching the pigeons, they were the only living creatures moving, busy in their self important posturing and strutting around the platforms.
Other people began to filter in from the street, coming up from other platforms. The well dressed businessmen intent on making a good impression with the boss; shiny shoes echoing on the cobbles as they dash for their buses to get to the office early – full speed ahead, damn the torpedoes! He smiled after them, poor fools. The boss didn’t give a damn, as long as the bottom line looked good, and was probably far more interested in the length of his secretary’s skirt than the cut of the lackey’s suit.
Next came the secretaries, jiggling along on their high heels. The smart ones wore runners and carried their office shoes, it was much easier to negotiate the stairs and the bus queues without having to concentrate on balance.
Slowly his platform began to fill. There was a different feel about this group. No one hurried. What did it matter if you missed this train, another one would be along later, there was no rush; no meetings to make, no deadlines to keep. They looked different too: no sharp suits, no power dressers in this group – clean and warm were the main criteria, fit and finish came second, colour matching a distant third.
Then he saw her. She didn’t exactly stand out from the crowd. She wasn’t better dressed or more purposeful, but she took his eye. She was like him, didn’t fit in here, was just passing through on her way to a better life. He could see her desperately clinging to that hope, that dream – that her destination would be better. He knew that hope, he too lived that dream.
The train pulled in, the hopeless and the hopeful, the desperate and the dissolute climbed aboard. He hung back, waiting to see where she went. He followed her into the second last carriage and sat in the aisle seat next to her.
Maybe, just maybe, even if the next destination wasn’t any better than the last, the journey might be fun. Perhaps they could share a little human warmth along the way.
Hell, he could dream, couldn’t he?

 

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7 - oggbashan

Commuter Train

Every weekday evening I caught the same train out of London, the last of the rush hour.

Sometimes I could curse the British reserve. Every evening I was travelling in close proximity to a woman I admired. She always looked well-dressed and calm, even in the crush of the early part of the journey. She wasn’t young but neither am I. Sometimes she would smile at me, or return my smile, but we never spoke.

The loudspeaker system on the train began to crackle... We still didn’t talk to each other.

“I’m sorry,” the guard said, remarkably clearly for once, “but a vehicle has hit a bridge ahead of us. We cannot proceed until the bridge has been checked for damage. We cannot divert…”

“…Shortly the current will be turned off and we will ask you to alight from the train and make your way along the track to the next station. I will advise you when it is safe to leave the train.”

For once railway buffs could impart their knowledge to an attentive audience. Apparently we had been stopped by the Dunford signals. From those signals to the next station, a minor halt at least a mile from the village it served, would be two and a half miles.

The woman I admired spoke for the first time. I had never heard her voice. She had a delicious contralto tone.

“Two and a half miles?” She exclaimed. “I can’t walk two and a half miles along a railway track in these.”

She lifted a nylon clad leg to show her black court shoes with two and a half-inch heels.

Someone laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh. It sounded like schadenfreude. None of us liked the idea of a walk that far in the frosty countryside but I could see her point. Her shoes would be ruined by the ballast stones of the track, if she could walk at all. I felt sorry for her. No one seemed to sympathise. I opened my briefcase carefully, hoping.

There they were. My old walking shoes that I had been intending to have repaired.

“Excuse me,” I said diffidently, “would these help?”

I held the shoes out towards her. She looked at the battered shoes and her face changed into a glorious smile.

“Yes, thank you, they would.”

She sat down beside me, took her glossy black shoes off and put my old shoes on. She threw her arms around me and kissed me hard.

“Now I can walk to the next station. I couldn’t have…”

We waited. She and I were in a world of our own. Her body pressed against mine as we introduced ourselves and started the ritual dance that turns strangers into friends. We had agreed to meet for a date before the guard’s second announcement came.

“Good news,” he said. “The bridge has been checked and is undamaged. The train will resume its journey shortly.”

But she and I had met and would meet again.

 

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8 - Liar

They went there. Things happened. They went back. That’s the story. And that’s what happened, at the heart of it all. They went there. Things happened. They went back. It’s what you clutter up those words with that make the story something that people want to hear.

So they went there.

They, the Him and Her, every newlywed young-and-successful cliché in the book. Let’s call them Hank and Joanna, real-estater and copywriter, three years into engagement, just short of thirty but still waiting with kids until “things settle down”. You know the kind, they think they need to live their lives before having a family, as if that’s something else. Think they need to travel to go places.

They went. By bus, plane, train. Let’s say by car. A cobalt blue BMW, slick enough to be sexy, sensible enough to be owned, speeding across the landscape, sun blazing, windows rolled down, Hank’s elbow resting lazily on the frame, Joanna’s bangs flopping madly across her face in the wind. But she didn’t mind. It’s part of the image, and it always looks good on TV. She lowered her sunglasses and flashed him a confident smile. He smiled back. Of course he did.

They went there. Wherever, really. Anywhere that people go to. Disneyland, Tijuana, the big apple, the moon. But let’s make it Vegas. The most “there” of all places. Things can happen in any place, but there, they’re bound to happen with flashing lights and a soundtrack.

And so, things happened. It was a good night. A night of cards, drinks, dance and laughter, of whispered puns, of bad karaoke, of Japanese tourist clusters, Black Jack crazy jocks, Elvis clones and young sex goddesses chatting up old big spenders, whispering hourly fees under their breaths. An evening of red wine and kisses, of more indulgence than usual and more lost control than ever. A night of barriers breaking, of hands gripping flesh, of lips sucking skin, of ripped sheets and forgotten protection. A night of want, that for once trumped the caution. A night of a tiny little question reaching a tiny little answer, changing the world.

They went back. They had pondered who’d drive, but realized they were both just as hung over for a breath test anyway. So they kept on the safe side, switched every hour on the hour, stocked up on mints and soda, and stayed at or slightly below the speed limit. Joanna stepped in, adjusted the seat, gave Hank a quick peck on the lips, and drove on. She popped a mint and tried to remember. She had worried about something, just before falling asleep, but now she couldn’t for the life of her remember what. Oh well, if it was important, it’d remind her. She was sure of it.

See? We have a story. They went there. Things happened. They went back. All except that, well, that’s just life doing what life does best. Happening, while we plan it.

 

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9 - gauchecritic

FOR SALE: ARIEL SQUARE FOUR. MINT. 4K NO OFFERS

"If you've got the four Grand love it's yours, I don't care if you're a lesbian gym teacher or what. I just need the cash."

Shelly smiled ruefully. She had given the guy a tour round her re-built Vee four Matchless, but he seemed more interested in her leather-bound curves.

"I've got three-two in cash." She said.

Shelly squirmed as his gut pushed against her when he draped a sweaty arm across her shoulder: "And I've got a punter coming round in half an hour with four and a half love. I'm losing 500 if I let you have it now, but you were first." He leered. “And it’s gonna take some persuading to make me let it go otherwise.”

“Can I at least have a spin on it? Just to see?” She simpered in her best little girl voice.

Shelly felt nauseated as his arm squeezed a little bit tighter. [ so that’s his hook! Shelly took a deep breath and turned beneath him, pressing the side of her breast into his chest. She looked into his eyes and breathed “Please Daddy.”

Now he shivered and took half a step away. “I really don’t want to be responsible for a little girl getting hurt on a big bad machine.”

Cunt “Well…” Shelly wet the tip of her index on her pouting bottom lip. “Would you like to ride my pillion so I can show you what a good girl I am?” She stroked the sharp nail of the finger slowly down his unshaved cheek. “Daddy?”

He stepped back again as his knees buckled beneath his rounded belly. “Y-yeah, y-yeah” he stammered.

Shelly straddled the bike, patting the seat behind. “Sit here Daddy. Hold me tight.”

The guy huffed and puffed eventually depressing 6 of the 9 inch clearance between the sump and the gravel surface.

Shelly took his sausage fingered hands and pulled them to rest on her ribcage. “You wouldn’t make your little girl pay all that money for one little motorbike would you Daddy?”

“three-nine.” He spluttered.

“How much?” she asked, lowering her shoulders and scooching back beneath his belly.

“Three-eight.” He paused and squirmed his finger upwards. “Three-six?” he whispered, clammy palms on each breast.

“What about three and a half?” Shelly asked unzipping the front of her jacket.

Shelly shivered again as his hands moved between the zippers, but before he could make any contact she slid from beneath him and off the machine to bounce on her toes as she clapped her hands. “I know Daddy.” She shrieked into his disappointment. “You can take me for a ride.” Shelly gripped her left wrist in her right hand and with a sliding motion.

Eyes aglitter he kicked the engine into life watching Shelly pull open the front of her leathers. Shelly climbed onto the pillion, pulled up the guy’s shirt and pressed herself into his back as her hands snaked forward to grip the inside of his thighs.

In a spray of gravel and cloud of exhaust they roared through the gates.

After no more than five minutes the bike wound crazily back onto the drive way and above the deep throbbing of the engine could be heard a male voice screaming “THREEEEEEEEEEEE”

 

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10 - SelenaKittyn

Love in An Elevator

“Thirty seconds.” Trevor pushed the elevator button. “Less if I’m not doing myself.”

Kelly snorted. “I don’t know if you should be bragging about this, Trev…”

“Why not?”

“I’m just sayin’…” She shrugged, checking her purse for their press passes.

Trevor grinned. “Hey, I wonder if there’s a world record…”

“You want to make Guinness as the world’s fastest ejaculator?” Kelly arched one blonde, finely plucked eyebrow.

“Why not?” He winked. “Everyone has to have their fifteen minutes of fame.”

“Thirty seconds?” she mused, pressing the elevator button again. “Really?”

“Less if I’m not doing myself.”

She gave him a steady look. “It seems…fast.”

“It is.” He nodded. “But what’s wrong with a quickie?”

“Nothing… if both of you get something out of it.”

Trevor straightened his tie, checking his reflection in the elevator doors. “Hey, I don’t neglect my duties in that department.”

“Oh, come on!” Kelly exclaimed as the doors opened and several people got out. “There’s no way these women are coming in 30 seconds!”

“Shh!” Trevor hustled her into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. “They are, too!”

“They are not,” she scoffed. “They’re faking it.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know the difference.”

“You do not.”

“Yes, I do!”

“Okay.” Kelly turned to face him, her eyes bright. “Let’s see if you can tell the difference.”

Trevor swallowed. “What?”

“Come on.” She pressed the Emergency Stop button and the elevator came to a jerking halt, the alarm buzzing. “We’ve got two minutes.”

“Are you serious?” His eyes widened.

“You know you’ve always wanted to...” She turned, hiking her navy skirt up, revealing black panties and thigh highs.

His eyes dipped between her legs. “Well… yeah… but…”

“Two minutes is more than enough time, right?” Her fingers nudged panties aside to reveal smooth, shaved lips.

Trevor groaned softly. “Damn, Kelly…”

“See if you can make me cum in thirty seconds.” She winked over her shoulder at him as her slippery fingers moved in and out. Trevor unzipped his trousers.

“Can I—?” His cock nudged her fingers.

She reached back, guiding him in. “This what you want?”

“Oh fuck…” He pressed forward, grabbing her hips. “God, you feel good.”

She arched, grasping the rail. “So do you.” Her hips danced, round and round. His fingers searched out her clit, rubbing fast.

“Fifteen seconds…” Kelly murmured, glancing at her watch.

Trevor thrust slower, groaning. “I knew I should have jerked off this morning…”

“Close?” She squeezed his cock, teasing.

“You?” He gasped, fingers circling her clit.

“Getting there… rub faster.”

“Are you really?” he panted. “Or are you just saying that?”

“Oh fuck… Trev… don’t stop,” she begged, biting her lip.

“Damnit, Kelly, don’t fuck with me!”

“No, don’t stop fucking me!” She rocked back.

He shoved in deep, shuddering. “Gonna cum!”

“Thirty seconds!” she moaned, her pussy fluttering. “Damn… you weren’t kidding…”

“Did you cum?” he asked, tucking and zipping.

She grinned. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“Um…”

“See, I told you.” Kelly turned the Emergency Stop off.

”Okay, so tell me.” He watched her pull panties up, skirt down. “The truth.”

She winked at him, straightening one stocking. “You’ll never know…”

 

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11 - FallingToFly

This is how it starts. A crowded subway car, and my stop coming up. I'm trying to squeeze past you to get to the doors as you're zipping up your jacket, and you catch my hair and necklace in the zipper. We're stuck, tangled together by happenstance and fate, and I can't help but laugh at the consternation on your face. We're jostling the passengers around us, trying to free my hair and your clothing, drawing grumbles of complaint and annoyed looks, as the doors clatter closed and we're still stuck, my stop sliding away as the train moves on. I hear you curse, your voice a lovely, soft depth in my ears, and you finally laugh too, pulling me into the shelter of your arm and holding onto a strap with the other hand.

"Let's just get off at the next one and fix this mess, shall we?" you say, and I have to agree, despite the fact that you're tugging at my scalp with every breath you take. I lean in closer to ease the strain, and sigh.

"I guess we'll have to," I say, and I can smell your cologne, something sweet and spicy and rich, mingled with the clean scent of soap. When the train slows for the next stop, you maneuver both of us to the doors and help me onto the platform and out of the bustle of other passengers heading home for the night. Under the fluorescent lights that buzz and flicker, we huddle against a wall until the chaos dies down, and then move apart as much as we can.

Our hands clash and fall away as we both reach for the snarl at the same time, and then you chuckle and reach for the long auburn curl caught in the dull gleam of my silver chain and the zipper. Slowly, you work the hair and jewelry loose and suddenly I'm free, rubbing the sore spot on my scalp and smiling up at you. Your eyes are blue-grey like Pennsylvania slate, so dark they must turn black with emotion, set in a face that reminds me of every Viking hero I ever read about in trashy romance novels. You're fingering the long curl you liberated, smoothing it between your fingers, and then you tuck it behind my ear with a sheepish, boyish smile.

"I'm Tomas," you say softly, and offer me your hand. I take it, your long, thin fingers wrapping around my gloved hand and squeezing gently. You have an accent, light and lilting, almost British but somehow gentler and more musical.

"Marian." My voice sounds higher, more girlish than normal, and I can feel heat rising in my cheeks as I look at you through lowered eyes, fascinated by more than just your accent. Your hair is pulled back in a long pale braid, and you're taller than me by six inches or more, even in the heels that bring my height up to a whopping five-eight. You huddle inside a battered brown leather jacket and faded jeans splotched with faded paint, heavy work boots on your feet, and I feel awkward and stilted in my carefully chosen wool skirt and trench coat, with the long black boots I bought because Jason said they made me look sophisticated.

I shove the thoughts of my ex-husband away and let go of your hand, blushing harder. "Thanks for, well, untangling me," I manage to blurt out. You smile, a slow, lazy curve of lips maybe a little too thin for conventional attractiveness, and tilt your head towards the stairs.

"It was nothing," you say graciously. "But, perhaps you would join me for a drink?" And I'm blushing and smiling as I manage to stammer out a polite acceptance. Out of the station, on the sidewalk, the wind whips our breath away and we quit trying to talk, until you touch my arm and guide me through a door into a hole in the wall that leads into a security-gated stairwell.

We almost make it to your front door. Almost. Instead we're in the stairwell, my legs wrapped around your lean waist. Your lips and warm tongue stroking mine until we're both breathless and gasping. The contrast of the cold rough brick and your warm, strong hands floods my panties with moisture-- I've never been this aroused, this fast- and brings a wanton moan from my throat.

 

[minsue]

12 - Stella_Omega

It's like riding horses. Not a free and easy trot, but a wild careen cross — country, where you are standing in the stirrups, hauling on the reins, sweating as much as your mount.

It's like driving the old leaf-sprung truck with manual transmission and no power steering.

It's like driving the train that lunges below the city streets, rattling on rusted rails through labyrinthine tunnels.

It's like the boat on the river; not the easy canoe, but the balky punt with its laborious pole.

It's fucking hard work, and that's the truth of it. But it is so worth it, to transport her this way; to hear her panting and sobbing, feel her fingers frantic on my arms and shoulders, her heels kicking at the backs of my knees— it’s worth the burn in my hips, the sweat on my back, the bellows-heave of my lungs. The hot scent of her, the silks of her hair flung across my pillow— makes it worth it, worth anything. I don’t care that the cock I’m fucking her with doesn’t actually feel anything. Ninety-five percent of me— is feeling everything.

Her breath is hitching, her face a snarling electric thing. All there is of her blue eyes is a glimmer of white between the lashes as she strains towards her goal. Whatever words she spun for me are spun away now. One hand of mine gets between us to feel for her clit, in the midst of the slip-and-slide— it’s so swollen, and my finger presses across that heavy rope of nerves just above it, while she arches and curls and shudders and stifles her cries in my shoulder; Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck… and at last her touch is gentle and my legs can tremble with all the effort that they’ve put forth so recently.

It’s like trucks, the great airbrakes shuddering all that bulk to a stop.

It’s like conning the tall ship into port, like guiding a racecar into the pit, bringing the freight train into the station.

Her legs untwine and let me withdraw from her, and she reaches down, lazily, and flips the buckle of my harness. Her hands are soft on my skin— but they travel over places that sting, or ache, from the mauling she gave me minutes before. With my arms around her back, I roll over, bringing her above me. I want her heat, like the warmest of blankets, and she kindly pulls up the duvet from the crumpled heap at the foot of our bed, pulling it over herself and me. There’s a deep, slow kiss. Her fingertip travels over my face, lifting the sweat-heavy strands of hair away from my skin, and the tip of her tongue lapping at the beads of sweat on my upper lip— and I feel my exhausted body responding, my hips pulling up against her, my head rolling back for her teeth on my neck, and I’m waiting for her hands to travel to my cunt. I’m so very ready..

 

[minsue]

13 - The_Fool

Uncomfortable silence. That was what David was thinking. He had never really understood that phrase. Until now. There was an uncomfortable silence in the car that weighed heavy upon him, leaving him struggling to breathe; but absolutely terrified at the thought of breaking it.

“What was that you said?”

Cherie’s words had a harsher edge, a tone that hinted at anger that she was suppressing

“I said that Diana and I were…”

“You fucking asshole. You wait until you get me in the car on a ride to her wedding to tell me that you were fucking that bitch. I was willing to go along because I though you were friends with them as a couple, but not with this staring me in the face. You fucking bastard.”

“I can’t help it if you waited till now to ask where I met Zack and Di. We were together. Zack and I were friends. We split. Then Zack took up where I left off. That makes it pretty awkward for me as well.”

David got more uncomfortable as the silence got longer. He kept his eyes on the road; Cherie was just a reflection in the window.

“Why did you split?”

The question out of the cold silence took David’s breath away. He hesitated to answer.

“Not sure what you want me to say.”

“I’m curious.”

“I’m not sure that you really want to know.”

“Just tell me.”

“Okay…Have you ever noticed how Zack seems controlling of Diana? She likes it that way. Diana likes to be bossed around…a lot. She has a taste for humiliation. I couldn’t go far enough. She found what she wanted from someone else. Afterwards, we never were able to go back to where we were.”

“You are leaving out an awful lot of details there.”

“You don’t want the details.”

“Don’t you fucking tell me what I want, you jackass!”

David flinched at her words.

“The most physical I could ever get was to spank her during sex. She wanted more. I didn’t know how. I heard about a cruise where you learn more about this stuff. We went, and I found out that I could not make her submit the way she really wanted.”

“And how did you determine this?”

“I…”

“David, you are going to tell me. Now.”

“One of the instructors took us aside because we were doing so poorly in the exercises. She worked with Diana and determined that she was a complete submissive. Then she tested me…”

“You are a fucking sub as well aren’t you?”

“Uh…”

“Fuck…That is why you are going to this wedding, for the humiliation.”

“Of course not.”

“Liar...”

David’s hands trembled on the wheel. His eyes were filling while he bit his lip. Cherie turned to look at him with a strange expression. She let out a slow sigh.

“Okay David, turn around at the next exit.”

“But…”

“Shut the fuck up. You have nothing to say at this point.”

Cherie’s voice left him shivering.

 

[minsue]

14 - drksideofthemoon

Duke n’ Earl

My Uncle Harry was an old man when I was young. Actually, he was my great-uncle, my grandmother’s brother. I can still see him, his black hair combed straight back. He was a giant of a man to an eight year old. In reality he was only about five-seven, maybe five-eight.

His face had been weathered by close to seventy Alberta summers and winters. A pair of bright blue eyes shone out from that wrinkle laden face. We used to laugh about his old fashioned pants that fastened up above his waist and held up by a pair of suspenders that had probably first seen action in the First World War.

He had his Sunday shirt on, with the same style of springy steel arm bands that all the old men wore. Around his neck was the same tie that he had worn to church, weddings and funerals for the best part of two decades.

Today was the opening day of the fair, and the day of the parade. All manners of tractors, trucks, combines and other farm machinery would be lined up with the Lion’s Club Marching Band. Floats from the banks and other local business were always a staple. Members of the RCMP would be in their scarlet tunics, Stetson hats, and tall riding boots, carrying the Union Jack and provincial flags. Veterans from the Legion would be wearing their blue blazers with their medals clinking as they marched proudly.

Uncle Harry was one of the few farmers in the district that still kept teams of horses. He had been invited to join the parade, near the front. He was to represent yesterday.

Duke and Earl were the horses he would use that day. They were a nearly match pair of Clydesdales. Uncle Harry had spent days grooming the two horses, washing and brushing them, and trimming their manes and tails until they were perfect. After the manes had been trimmed, my aunt braided them with red and blue ribbons.

The white stockings on their legs gleamed in the early morning sunlight. Each hair of their feathered hooves was perfect. Long hours had been spent polishing the harnesses and reins.

The old hay wagon had received a new coat of brown paint, and any missing boards had been replaced. Bales of straw had been stacked two and three high.

I was a young boy enamored with anything mechanical. I loved the tractors. I thought the horses were dreadfully old-fashioned. But, on that morning, seeing Duke and Earl hitched up to the hay wagon I saw something I had never seen before, the supreme majesty of the heavy horse.

To a young boy they looked absolutely massive standing there patiently, waiting for my uncle to give them the command to move. Earl ignored me. Duke looked down at me with his big eyes and shook his head

“You want to come along?” My uncle looked at me.

“Oh yes!” I exclaimed.

Harry winked at my mother and set me up on the hay wagon. “We’ll meet you in town.”

He took the reins in his hand and yelled to the horses, “Giddap there!”

We were moving, the sound of the horses iron shod hooves on the gravel and the bells on the harness broke the morning silence.

The two horses amazed me, it seemed that it took them no effort whatsoever to pull us down the road. Suddenly my uncle handed me the reins. “Here, you can drive for a while.”

I looked up at my uncle to make sure that he was serious. He smiled down at me and winked. “Just keep the tension on the reins.”

When we got into town my uncle took over the reins again. We made our way through town to the fair grounds where the parade would start and end. Uncle Harry stopped the team and talked to the man in charge of the parade. We would have to make our way around the horse track and get in line, we were behind the pipers.

As he pulled the team on to the track, Uncle Harry looked down at me. “Hang on tight, let’s show ‘em what we can do.”

I held on tight as he snapped the reins and yelled, “Duke, Earl, step lively now!”

Their big heads snapped up as they leaned into the harness. Moving at a quick trot their front legs came up high. People stopped what they were doing to watch. I swore I saw the horses’ chests swell up with pride as they moved to a gallop.

I could feel the air blowing in my face, my cowboy hat slipped from my head and hung by the braided string from my neck.

Here and there people applauded the sight of the Clydesdales in full flight. I looked up at my uncle. The wrinkled old farmer had disappeared and had been replaced with a man full of pride of his horses. His tie flapped wildly over his shoulder like a banner of yore.

“Yah, Duke! Yah, Earl!” He urged the horses on.

The end of the track was quickly approaching, I saw him tug on one of sets of reins. “Gee! Gee!”

The big horses leaned to the left and followed the curve. I had to hang on for dear life. I thought for sure I was going to be tossed off the side. Not a beat was skipped as they rounded the tight corner of the track. I could see their flared nostrils as their heads turned.

As we neared where the parade was lined up he pulled back on the reins, “Whoa, whoa laddies.”

He walked them the last hundred yards until we found our place in the parade.

After we pulled up to a stop, Uncle Harry looked at me with a grin as wide as the Canadian prairies. “The day of the horse may be done, but it’s not forgotten.”

He jumped down off of the wagon, brush in hand. He stroked the horses’ foreheads. His blue eyes glistened as he spoke to them. “You done us proud this day, lads. You showed them buggers how it was done.”

It’s not forgotten. Even all these years later, the sight of a team of heavy horses pulling in the harness still brings a tear to my eye.

 

[impressive]

Imp's

1. oggbashan (Jenny_Jackson)
2. past_perfect
3. TheeGoatPig (CrimsonMaiden)
4. CrimsonMaiden (matriarch)
5. Jenny_Jackson (RedHairedandFriendly)
6. gauchecritic (starrkers)
7. matriarch (oggbashan)
8. Liar
9. Stella_Omega (gauchecritic)
10. starrkers (SelenaKittyn)
11. SelenaKittyn (FallingToFly)
12. FallingToFly (Stella_Omega)
13. RedHairedandFriendly (The_Fool)
14. drksideofthemoon

3/14

 

[Liar]

And the third list.... Haven't read it yet. Just markking my presence, so that I can be nagged into completing the job

1. Oggbashan
2. TheFool
3. gauchecritic
4. Matriarch
5. TheeGoatpig
6. Starrkers
7. Fallingtofly
8. past_perfect
9. Jenny Jackson
10. Redhairedandfriendly
11. CrimsonMaiden
12. Stella Omega
13. SelenaKittyn
14. drksideofthemoon

And I've set me mahself and I as wildcard.

 

[FallingToFly]

1. matriarch
2. RedHairedandFriendly
3. Liar
4. CrimsonMaiden
5.Jenny Jackson
6. oggbashan
7. starrkers
8. The_Fool
9. past_perfect
10. TheeGoatPig
11. gauchecritic
12. Stella
13. Selena Kittyn
14. drksideofthemoon

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Red read this stuff too and guessed these folks. . .

1. ThreeGoatPig
2. SelenaKitten
3. StellaOmega
4. drksideofthemoon
5. starkkers
6. CrimsonMaiden
7. FallingToFly
8. matriarch
9. oggbashan
10. Jenny_Jackson
11. The_Fool
12. past_perfect
13. gauchectritic
14. Liar

Wildcard: RedHairedandFriendly

 

[Selena_Kitt]

Selena's Guesses

1. gauchecritic
2. Jenny_Jackson
3. Falling To Fly
4. matriarch
5. CrimsonMaiden
6. past_perfect
7. oggbashan
8. Selenakittyn
9. Liar
10. starrkers
11. TheeGoatPig
12. Stella_Omega
13. RedHairedandFriendly
14. drksideofthemoon


The_Fool

 

[oggbashan]

I'm not going to attempt this Group because I know whether I did or did not write an entry.

Og

 

[Nirvanadragones]

1. past_perfect
2. TheFool
3. TheeGoatpig
4. Fallingtofly
5. Jenny Jackson
6. Starrkers
7. Oggbashan
8. drksideofthemoon
9. gauchecritic
10. Liar
11. CrimsonMaiden
12. Stella Omega
13. SelenaKittyn
14. Redhairedandfriendly

 

[Lauren Hynde]

1. gauchecritic
2. past_perfect
3. FallingToFly
4. matriarch
5. TheeGoatPig
6. oggbashan
7. starrkers
8. Liar
9. Jenny_Jackson
10. RedHairedandFriendly
11. CrimsonMaiden
12. Stella_Omega
13. SelenaKittyn
14. drksideofthemoon

 

[Guest]

Group C guesses

1. oggbashan
2. starrkers
3. Jenny_Jackson
4. RedHairedandFriendly
5. TheeGoatPig
6. gauchecritic
7. matriarch
8. The_Fool
9. Stella_Omega
10. SelenaKittyn
11. Liar
12. FallingToFly
13. CrimsonMaiden
14. drksideofthemoon

Wildcard: past_perfect

 

[drksideofthemoon]

drk's divinations

1. gauchecritic
2. starkkers
3. theegoatpig
4. matriarch
5. Jenny Jackson
6. past_perfect
7. Liar
8. RedHairedandFriendly
9. oggbashan
10. CrimsonMaiden
11. FallingToFly
12. Stella_Omega
13. SelenaKittyn
14. The Fool

CrimsonMaiden
drksideofthemoon
FallingToFly
gauchecritic
Jenny_Jackson
Liar
matriarch
oggbashan
past_perfect
RedHairedandFriendly
SelenaKittyn
starrkers
Stella_Omega
The_Fool
TheeGoatPig