My BBC Stories: The Cuckoo Cuckold! (eBook, ePUB)
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On his way home from his engineering job, Tysheem encounters a woman on the subway with a special proposition. After some public fun, Tysheem agrees and they return to her upscale home. As they enjoy each other, her husband discovers them and asks Tysheem to perform with his wife. Tysheem counter-offers with the services of his friends. That next evening, Tysheem, Ty, Tyrone, Tyleek, and Tyrone's girl, Keisha, give the couple an experience they will never forget.Until the next time."The train pulled in, the doors opened, and we waited for a green signal, as so often happens. A few pub-crawlers...
On his way home from his engineering job, Tysheem encounters a woman on the subway with a special proposition. After some public fun, Tysheem agrees and they return to her upscale home. As they enjoy each other, her husband discovers them and asks Tysheem to perform with his wife. Tysheem counter-offers with the services of his friends. That next evening, Tysheem, Ty, Tyrone, Tyleek, and Tyrone's girl, Keisha, give the couple an experience they will never forget.
Until the next time.
"The train pulled in, the doors opened, and we waited for a green signal, as so often happens. A few pub-crawlers boarded as the clubs and bars closed for the night, but not many.
One of them was a stunning middle-aged woman in a dress more appropriate for twenty-something doing a club-crawl. She walked from the other end of the car to sit on one of the forward facing seats that punctuate the benches of the D-line trains. Everyone else sat at the far end,
Maybe that's why she did it. A nearly empty car. A good distance to go before her stop.
Whatever.
She must have spotted me and made her decision right then, because, as I said, she walked up the whole length of the car to sit.
She was hot. At first, all I saw were her legs. They were long and shapely and pale white. The only reason I'd didn't see all her goods right away was because they were primly held together, even though they disappeared under her very short dress. That dress was the next thing I noticed. It tightly enclosed a nice body. In that dress, clinging to every curve, she must have been fighting them off all night.
Then she crossed her legs - dancer's legs. Slowly. It was like something out of that old movie. One leg came up (just a little too high) to free itself from its companion. It hesitated a moment before coming down, leaving a gap that drew the eye like steak to a man dying of hunger. then the other leg rose (again, just that fraction of an inch too high) to slide down across the other. Was that a flash of gash I glimpsed there? I felt my heart thud and my cock throb and stir from its slumber.
I glanced up at her face.
She stared back at me. Oval faced. Broad, warm smile, below petite nose, below wide, blue eyes. Framed by thick, golden hair. Glanced down. Lean shoulders (anchoring slender, toned arms with delicate hands), that emerged from her tight, sleeveless sheath. Generous tits strained the fabric. I looked up at h face again. Crow's feet at her eyes. Suggestion of a line at each side of her smile that looked like it would be more permanent at rest.
Forty-five?
I returned her smile. Gave a little wave. Turned away. It was the polite New York thing to do.
The doors finally closed and the conductor mumbled something over the loudspeaker. The train lurched and staged into motion. Her legs moved again, catching my eye. So I looked - who wouldn't. Who couldn't?
Of course I looked!"
Until the next time.
"The train pulled in, the doors opened, and we waited for a green signal, as so often happens. A few pub-crawlers boarded as the clubs and bars closed for the night, but not many.
One of them was a stunning middle-aged woman in a dress more appropriate for twenty-something doing a club-crawl. She walked from the other end of the car to sit on one of the forward facing seats that punctuate the benches of the D-line trains. Everyone else sat at the far end,
Maybe that's why she did it. A nearly empty car. A good distance to go before her stop.
Whatever.
She must have spotted me and made her decision right then, because, as I said, she walked up the whole length of the car to sit.
She was hot. At first, all I saw were her legs. They were long and shapely and pale white. The only reason I'd didn't see all her goods right away was because they were primly held together, even though they disappeared under her very short dress. That dress was the next thing I noticed. It tightly enclosed a nice body. In that dress, clinging to every curve, she must have been fighting them off all night.
Then she crossed her legs - dancer's legs. Slowly. It was like something out of that old movie. One leg came up (just a little too high) to free itself from its companion. It hesitated a moment before coming down, leaving a gap that drew the eye like steak to a man dying of hunger. then the other leg rose (again, just that fraction of an inch too high) to slide down across the other. Was that a flash of gash I glimpsed there? I felt my heart thud and my cock throb and stir from its slumber.
I glanced up at her face.
She stared back at me. Oval faced. Broad, warm smile, below petite nose, below wide, blue eyes. Framed by thick, golden hair. Glanced down. Lean shoulders (anchoring slender, toned arms with delicate hands), that emerged from her tight, sleeveless sheath. Generous tits strained the fabric. I looked up at h face again. Crow's feet at her eyes. Suggestion of a line at each side of her smile that looked like it would be more permanent at rest.
Forty-five?
I returned her smile. Gave a little wave. Turned away. It was the polite New York thing to do.
The doors finally closed and the conductor mumbled something over the loudspeaker. The train lurched and staged into motion. Her legs moved again, catching my eye. So I looked - who wouldn't. Who couldn't?
Of course I looked!"
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