The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies by Sonia Florens

Author:Sonia Florens [Florens, Sonia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Toothin’ It

Robin (New Haven, USA)

The Brits have it down pat. Cruising, that is. First they were out doggin’ it in the countryside and now they’re toothin’ it on trains everywhere. Damn, but they’ve thrown caution to the wind and, living here in today’s America with its reawakened Puritanism, I long for a revolt that would get us wild in the streets. Or at least in back alleys. If only we’d motivate ourselves to upgrade our PDAs and cell phones so we can ply each other with requests for anonymous sex!

Sitting here on a Metro North train, nursing my chai tea, I wonder who I’d pick “to tooth”. I spy a lot of Gold Coast wealth – women coming home from city shopping, weighed down by Bloomie bags and designer purses, and Wall Street stiffs, their faces drawn serious by five o’clock shadow and by the strangle of red neckties (power ties, they call them). It’s not the delightfully democratic mix that you get on AmTrak, but there’s a scattering of interesting individuals who liven up the surroundings with their body art and alt-whatever wardrobes.

So who would I pick? Who would I aim my lust at? My gaze wanders until I spot a certain young woman. She’s reading Bertolt Brecht so she’s likely college-aged. Given the fact that her short spiked hair, conch-embellished earlobes, and tattoos shout “suicide girl”, I bet her parents were relieved to see her off to college. I imagine texting her.

“Toothin’?”

“Yes.”

“Restroom.”

“M or W?”

“W.”

“Wow.”

There, in the restroom, I kiss her hurriedly, hungrily, and I hike up her shirt to get at her young breasts. I’m not surprised to find them pierced and I get my hands on them before she pulls away from my mouth and mumbles something about me being a lot older than her.

To which I answer, “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

She doesn’t get it – it’s too old a saying for her generation to recognize – but her “huh?” doesn’t stop me from caressing her. I dip down to a luscious nipple made tight by my touch and take it in my mouth. As I tongue it, it gets even harder and flicking its little barbell makes her moan.

I push her legs apart, eager to get my hand under that little pleated skirt of hers. It takes seconds to caress my way up to her cleft and – silly me! – I gasp when I find she’s wearing a thong. Yes, I gather that most young women do, but I’m old enough to be among the old lady cotton undies crowd. Still, that doesn’t keep me from pushing it aside.

Touching her cunt sends a shiver through me. Such sweet lips, so petite. I stroke, I probe, I feel my way about her labia. I find her hole and discover her clit. My touch is light and, as I search, she grows wet.

I pull away from her breast, kiss her again, then remark, “You like this.”

“Oh, yes!”

Her voice is breathy, heated by arousal.

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