Been a while for this one too…
The trains been interesting lately.
I’m fixated on the obviously gay young guy standing across from where I’m sitting, my music throbbing in my ear as I wonder about his proclivities when we reach a stop on the line. Out of the corner of my eye the peacock parade catches my attention and I can’t help what I text to my friend in that split second.
“These guys on the train beside me have ‘one night stand’ written all over them.”
As though I’m the queen of knowing such things, I’m sizing them up as they preen by the door. Maybe I’ve labeled them as such because at least one guy in the pack is someone I’d consider a one night stand with.
Her response to her text makes me chuckle as I eye them surreptitiously. It’s a Saturday night so it’s a no brainier to figure out where they’re off to.
I like men that are overt in their masculinity and these guys are checking the box for me right now. Muscles, facial hair, swagger that’s more arrogant than confident. Yes, yes, yes.
I’m on the edge of diving into some kinky fantasy involving the one with the shaved head. I’d peel off those faded blue jeans and tight blue t-shirt and let my tongue dance along the muscles hidden under those clothes. The minute quiver of his body, the salty taste of his skin, his smell, his groans. I’m just about there, just about ready to let my imagination take off…
When the parade exits the car and something a little more colorful hops on.
Now these girls are bright birds. Brown skin on display, slim bodies barely covered by colorful feathers, bikini bras and panties, and strategic pas and piercings. They’re loud as they file in and find a seat, and I’m unable to take my eyes off them.
I look away, they’re chatter very much reminding me of the squawk of birds of paradise. They are loud, beautiful, exotic, and tempting.
They’re human beings, not defined by the clothes they wear, but I can’t help lusting for them just a little. For their daring, their brightness, their vibrancy. They scream sex and I want to be the meat in their girl sandwich, our matching brown skin and breasts pressed together.
I have to remind myself I’m not into girls, but it’s hard not to dart glances their way and wonder. There’s too much going on with them to speculate where they’re off to other than a parade A La Mardi Gras. Hips shaking, breasts bouncing, asses moving to their own rhythm. Too yummy for words.
My stop. Just one more glance at the birds before I step off.