Stranger

Is it so bad that when I see you walk by in your short, short skirt with your shapely delicious legs, that I desperately want to reach out and run my fingers up them? You are a stranger on a bus, but I have to clench my fists to stop myself from touching you as you pass by.

But oh, to imagine running my tongue up those legs; tracing my fingers just under the edge of your skirt. Kneading my fingers into the firm roundness of your ass. Kissing from your knees all the way up your body. Searching under that heavy coat you are wearing to find your hidden breasts; to discover their terrain. To discover what your nipples look like so I can place my lips upon them. To press my own breasts against you; to sigh gently in your ear; to kiss your neck; to slide my hand between your legs; to hear you gasp; hear you scream for me...

And you will never know how you affected me. Some strange woman peeking at you as you walk by... You will never know the sex I have had with you in my mind.