A snippet from my mind on the journey from London to York...

By the time I get onto the train to York I've fucked 17 people. I know, because I counted them.

I don't remember them all, though I'm guessing they'll remember me. At least for an hour or two.

It started with Monserat, the only one whose name I know - not that I bothered to ask, but she was clearly proud as it was displayed over her chest. She was the black girl at the tube station, who didn't flinch when I bent into her booth to suck on one of those named breasts, and barely seemed to notice as I stuck my fingers into her, rubbed her clit, paid her my 15 quid and, with a click of my cuban heels, positively waltzed down the escalator.

She was number one, and you never forget the first. In the platform, I tried the two London Underground workmen, chunky and with those sleeveless yellow jackets, but no, not a flicker. I guess they get offers all the time.

From then on it was madness. I started with the old guy opposite; short, heavy-lidded, dressed in those grey/beige trousers and jacket that pensioner guys seem to be given as a uniform. He wasn't having it. My second rejection? But no, we'll get back to him. A family got on, grandparents and a kid - middle class, and the grandad had that air of once-was about him. He sought me out. Bam. And the game began. So I'm sitting on the tube, you know what I'm looking like... rock chic hair, leather jacket, brown boots, dress, today all rounded off with brown lipstick, dripping with shiny things... I think of a name... Hell, mindfuck works for me. Wanna play?

So I fuck the grandad. He wants more, and more and more. Fuck him. This was a start and to me, it barely counts. However, it's given me confidence and I, truly, feel fired up. Hot-tish. Wet-tish. I fuck three black guys in succession, but they're too easy. And beige-grey guy is starting to annoy me. Who-the-fuck does he think he is? I lay my head against the glass panel that separates me from the damn fine pretty boy, 30s, jeans, whatever, who is standing beside me, and, hell, I'm sure he won't be too distressed if I just, why it's a perfect height, me sitting and all... So, I do... I reach my hands, both arms, around, and I guide his arse around that panel, just right in front of me.

I remember that I'm being trained; trained to cum just through sucking your cock, and I guess any practise can only be a good thing. And so - and I'm not sure exactly when he notices - I unzip him, lift his soft cock up to stare at me, and lick the tip. I guess he notices now, because he kind of looks down, but no-one else seems to and I lick some more. No fuss. Casual. Like an ice-cream cone that's starting to drip, I lick, one day holding him, the other - as instructed - slips down to myself, and I notice that my legs are wider open than I'd realised. I also notice, with an increasing irritation, the beige slacks man is still seemingly oblivious. Pah.

So... I am definitely awakening 30s-boy, but, out of the corner of my eyes, I notice a smally-blondly-softly-plumply blond woman I recognise from a previous fuck. She, and I'm counting this as one of my 17, fuck you, mate, no arguments here, has noticed my tongue, and fuck me if she isn't damn splayed out, cocky bitch, one leg on the arm of her seat, damn cunt out for the whole world to see, though only I notice. Not true, I think beige-man might be starting to see, but... Nope, I look down, still ice-creaming me, at his crotch, and see the same shapeless nothing as before.

She's staring at me, legs open wide (she's wearing a little dress, was too damn little, but, all-credit to her, it presses the buttons), finger-fucking herself, all tit-squeezy. Okay, I'm kind of doing the same, but I reckon the cock tongue gives me extra points. And I wonder - if I'm being trained up to cum as I suck your cock, does it count if I make someone else cum by watching... Count? I reckon this is extra points and, fuck me, you, if that awakening cock doesn't suddenly take on a familar form... But anyway...

Grandad fucked, the three black guys, blondy, and, yes, I'm going to gloss over as the rest becomes a blur.

As the ice-cream begins to drippily meltily I lick round the tip a little more. Jesus, you. I know that damn cock, better than its face, I do, and the more familiar it becomes (and I see from those veins you've finally noticed me, cocky-boy) and at this realisation I just want it inside me. Now. Right fucking now. But, given the current situation this would. I reflect, be entirely inappropriate, and so I look up at you, and I look at that cock, and, you, no word of a lie. I just love it.

No mouth. Just tongues, I lick the whole goddamn-ness of you, rub my cheek against that cock, trace its veins with my tongue. Lick the whole damn area. No mouth. Just tongue. The inner thigh, while your balls rest, the smoothness of your balls. Just rub my soft damn cheek around the whole fucking lot, on a tube train to king's cross station.

And then I just stop and look at what we've made. Fuck. Fuck but I want that inside of me. No mistake, no fucking mistake. I'm so wet and sooft and aching, fucking painful here now, remembering it as I sit in my first class carriage, sipping tea and heading speedily north.

I take that into my mouth, you standing in front of me, one hand pulling your arse back and forth to me, the other, trying to focus on myself, but honestly, I don't care. My lips, those damn fucking lips of mine, around your cock, just taking in as much as I can, leaving you just standing, me doing most of everything, just now thinking, fuck, I just want you to come, with that force, into my mouth and down my fucking throat.

Just, truly, giving up on the pussy and focusing on the thought and the reality of what I'm going. You just smooth and hard in my mouth. Down my damn throat. And now babe, woah. Cum, just please. I'm feeling, not thinking, just feeling. And all, in this world, right now, you, on a fucking train, with the world rushing past, no word of a lie, I sneak into the toilet and fucking finish this damn thing while thinking of you, your cock, just fucking shooting what it so much has for me, and we both know this, down my throat. And babe? My eyes are still dazed and glazed now

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