Good Vibrations Magazine

Nicole’s seat on the trolley car bit into her back, caused her to sit too upright and she squirmed. Her skirt rode up her thighs, and she pulled at it. He sat across from her every morning on her way to work. She pretended to look out the window but instead caught glimpses of him out the corner her eye. He had to be in his early twenties, maybe even nineteen. A fresh young man at college. She thought of him long after seeing him on the trolley. Once she went to the bathroom, undid her pants and felt herself pretending her hand was his. Nights she thought of him in bed beside her, and she caressed herself.

She wondered to herself if he ever thought of her. Looking at him, he didn’t even seem to notice her at all. She looked back to the window. She thought of standing, walking to him, lifting up her skirt and pressing her pussy in his face. Bend him to her will, force him to taste her, to feel her dampness against his lips. But no. Instead the trolley stopped and she got off, walked past him and out to her building. She worked in financial aid. No, she thought; he doesn’t want me.

While at work she couldn’t focus, her thoughts kept going back to him. His hair and how it framed his face. She wanted nothing more than for him to look at her, savor her and devour her. Every inch, she thought. Her thong clung to her skin, moist. She felt warm and heavy and needed release. She needed him. The clock read 11. An hour until lunch but she couldn’t wait. God, she thought.

She went to the bathroom, in the stall and shut the door. She propped herself against the door then, and slipped her hand down her waistband. She let it go its own way, carve its own path through her pubic hair and over her mound. Fell the warm flesh full of life that wanted more than anything to be filled. She slipped her fingers between its folds and explored. She braced herself with her free hand against the stall. She tickled her clit with her index finger, slowly twirling then brushing it gently before going faster and harder. Her orgasm came over her from her feet up, running up and over her. She wasn’t satisfied.

Returning to her work, she read the clock: 11:36. She worked until 12. She clocked out and waited on the sidewalk for the trolley car. Her flat was two blocks from campus. She had an hour. The trolley car arrived at 12:10. She climbed on and went towards the back and saw him. She took a seat across like before. She slipped her purse from her shoulder and set it down. He had a book. She looked at its cover and read Naked Lunch. Naked Lunch, she thought: If Only!

The trolley car stopped at the edge of campus, and she exited like before. She stepped off the trolley car and walked on past sycamores that grew next the brick wall that lined the street. Down the street she saw a traffic light and past that she knew her building waited. She shook her head. Why didn’t she say something to him? Anything. Disappointed, she looked behind her and there he was. She turned away. God, she thought. Never had he made this stop: her stop. She kept walking.

She didn’t want to turn around. Be casual, she told herself. But she could sense him behind her. Was he following her, she thought. She had no way of knowing. Sooner than expected she found herself at the traffic light and the crosswalk and it said: WALK. She did. She went across, her high heels clicking. She tossed her head back, to see and yes he was there. Her heart beat fast. Her building was straight ahead and she fought with herself to gather the courage to ask him inside. She didn’t have to.
“Excuse me,” he said.
She stopped in front of her building. Her window two flights above. She turned to him. He held her purse outstretched. “You forgot this on the trolley,” he said. “Oh,” she said. “Wow. I can’t believe–how stupid of me.” “I forget stuff all the time. It’s not stupid.” “No,” she said. “Thanks.” “Yeah. Don’t mention it.” They stood and looked at each other. “What classes do you have,” he asked. She laughed. “None. I work there.” “Oh. I thought maybe you were going there.” “Are you an English major,” she asked. She pointed to his book. “This,” he asked. “No,” he said. “This is just for pleasure.” “Pleasure,” she repeated. “You wanna come up?” “Sure.” She shot him a smile and moved for the door. He held it open for her.

Here she found herself with him in her apartment alone. He sat on the couch. She went to the kitchen, to the refrigerator, opening it and staring at its inside. “Want anything to eat,” she asked. “I’m fine,” he said. She shut the door. Her heart still raced the same as it did outside. Maybe it raced more. She couldn’t tell. All she could think of was the fact that she had him here alone. She thought back to the trolley car, thought about her pressing herself into his face. She felt faint. She took control.

She slipped the straps off her shoulders, standing in the kitchen. She unzipped her skirt and let it fall, stepped out of it and out the kitchen. He turned to see her standing in her high heels, thong and her shirt barely hanging on. She stalked towards him, heart beat after heart beat pounding against her chest, she felt so alive. He sat there and watched her approach. She stood over him, leaned over him, placed her hands on his head and ran her fingers through his hair and pulled him into her. His mouth kissed her thong that hid her pussy. It was wet, he could taste her. He grabbed her ass, pulled her nearer, and with his thumbs pulled her thong down to reveal her pussy. His tongue went over it, in it and she tugged at his hair.

She pushed him on his back and began unbuttoning his pants, he unzipped them and she ran her hands over his tight stomach. She leaned in kissing him, slipping her tongue between their lips and touching his. She bit his bottom lip and took hold his cock within his boxers. She let go, stood, stripped herself of her thong and her shirt. She stood there in her high heels and black bra. She reached behind her as he watched and unbuttoned the bra. She took it off, let it fall at her side and let him see: her breasts that had waited to feel his touch, her nipples hard and anticipating.

She pulled his jeans off, his boxers and stared at his cock. She grabbed its base to feel it in her hand. She let her other hand rub her pussy. He watched her captivated. “You want this,” she asked. “Yes,” he answered. She climbed atop him. She guided his cock into her pussy, felt it inside her. She lay over him, grabbing the couch’s arm, her breasts in his face brushing it, and she satisfied herself in her movement atop his cock. She let it fill her. She rode him and rode him. He held her hips and thrust from where he lay. His cock entering her, penetrating her and filling her. She clutched the couch’s arm. Getting closer, closer she bounced atop him. Faster, faster. She cried and he obliged. So young, so willing to please. “Yes,” she cried. “You wanted this…”

She fell on him in her orgasm, totally surrendering herself. The clock read 1:27. She didn’t care. She’d get to work when she was done. Maybe he had a class soon, she didn’t care. She wanted to go again, and she knew that he wanted her and that’s all that mattered.