Donde Estas, My Scandalous Lover? (F4M)
It was raining. My red dress was soaked because I had forgotten an umbrella. I was alone riding the subway car to my nightshift. The train screeched to a halt at a stop in Spanish Harlem. Smoke billowed from the rails and you entered my presence like a scene from a teen-80s movie.
You sat down across from me and watched my every move. I uncrossed my legs and licked my lips suggestively. You seductively raised your pinky finger, encased in a gold ring, and beckoned me to follow you.
Weaving between the poles like a well-trained stripper, I followed your every move ignoring the judging eyes of passengers watching us. You stopped abruptly in front of a conductor’s cabin and raised one eyebrow. I responded with a devious smile. The train raced on as you slid the door gently behind us.
We had kinky sex in an empty conductor’s car. You came on my face and it got in my eye. I glanced up; blinking to unglue my eyelashes. Your caramel irises bore into mine and I couldn’t help, but mouth the words “I love you.” To my surprise you responded, “Shhh. No hablo ingles bonita. No nombres, solamente sexo.” They were the three most romantic sentences that I had ever heard. Maybe it was the cum, but a tear slid down my face as the train came to a stop and you exited the car swiftly.
Find me…Mi amore.