Sunday, May 29, 2016

Unusual Liaison

I am looking up at him with my big brown eyes. I know what I am doing is illegal and yet it does not stop me; it thrills me.

I look up to see if he is looking down. He has looked down on me before but today the situation has changed and I am taking control. His eyes range from being screwed up in concentration, occasionally he casts them about to see if he can catch anyone's eye in quiet desperation. Of course no one looks, this is the London Underground in rush hour. Everyone is too focussed on their own internal worlds, hurrying from A to B. Even if he did make eye contact with anyone, we are British and it would be too impolite to ask for help.

He smells of alcohol, stale fags, with an unwashed manly stench. It repulses me and excites me as I suck his average sized cock. Everything about him is average and slightly dishevelled, as though he has come on difficult times which I am certain he has. Scruffy jeans, crappy trainers, second hand coat. Perhaps it came from a charity shop and that is why it smells as it does. No, I think he has just not washed in a few days. That thought makes me scowl but I am enjoying sucking him off too much.

This man has flashed me at least a dozen times this week, and to be honest I was getting pissed off with it. Most people are at armpit height so they have the wondrous joys of body odour to contend with. I am in a wheelchair so I am automatically at crotch height. I think this has excited this dirty flasher which is why I have received so much attention. I know he has done it to others, I have seen him. I am not sure what his motives are. Does he want to get laid? Is it a thrill of being caught? Is this his only sexual contact? Does he actually just hate women? All of these questions swirl in my mind as I slurp and suck.

Flashing is illegal, but then again so is sexual acts in such a public place. Indeed I have not asked for his consent before I started giving him a blow job and we are packed in here like sheep so he cannot escape. I am violating him, just like he kept violating me. That knowledge makes me feel powerful. It makes me feel as though I am getting a little bit of justice even though I know this is not right.

Looking down at me, his chin doubles slightly with little silver flashes of grey in his stubble. He is panting and nodding to tell me that he is going to cum. His chest heaving and eyes screwed he spurts averagely into my mouth. Everything about him is non descript, even his orgasms.

Spitting out his dick I look up at him with a sarcastic, 'don't fuck with me' smile. "Same time next week?"

He nods, still panting and breathless at this unusual liaison.

I reach for my wheels to make them go, out of badness and just because I can, I make sure that I run over his fucking toes.

Please scoot on over to @RebelsNotes to see who else is playing this Wicked Wednesday


  1. All those years I spent travelling on the tube and I never came across anything like this. I must have been doing it wrong :-)

  2. I love it when you write. Don't you dare stop again *looks at you sternly*! Love this!

    Rebel xox

  3. I have read this three times and each time a different little detail poked into my brain. However the final line about running over his toes makes me smile every time I read it. As Rebel says.... don't you dare stop again


  4. Oh, those toes needed to be run over. Nice to see you back.


  5. I love how the character runs over his toes

  6. So good to see you back in the saddle. Even better to see that you haven't changed at all. Still brilliantly wrong.