A metafictional Roland for my anarchic Oliver. But we’ll give the literature a rest for the moment because adjacent to the basement coffee shop was...a little barber shop. For some reason Jane found it stimulating to be sitting next to a room where men went to be shaved. Whether she had Delilah in mind or Sweeney Todd, I can not say, but something in the conjuncture gave her libido a tweak. ‘James’, she would say, ‘I want you.’ We didn’t use the four-letter words, not to each other. But ‘I want. I could feel every vein and the shape of his cockhead like a big mushroom. I wondered if that bastard was going to fuck me right here on the crowded subway...Suddenly, his dick somehow found my pussy down there and I felt him rubbing against it, making my own juices begin to flow…My hand slipped down between my thighs and under my skirt.I touched my clit, but then I felt my tiny thong was being pulled aside, exposing my now wet and ready cunt for him and his cock.The train suddenly lurched and. More

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