fantasy #1
4:54 p.m.<>2001-07-22

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jodie and i spend a great deal of time sharing our fantasies with each other. it's one of my favorite things about our relationship. i once dated a young woman who steadfastly refused to talk about her fantasies with me, and it was frustrating. i respected her boundaries, of course, but i regretted that she did not care to reveal that side of herself to me. as long it's done with respect and trust on both sides, the act of sharing your interior erotic life with your partner can bring a world of richness and intimacy to your relationship.

in my experience, erotic fantasies fall into two general categories. there are those that you love to think about, but which you would never want to come true for whatever reason. and then there are those that you wouldn't mind one bit if they came true, and the sooner the better. my own fantasies usually fall into the latter group. given the opportunity, and provided that i wasn't hurting jodie or anyone else, i'd jump at the chance to fulfill them. my lover's fantasies, on the other hand, tend to be in the former category. she loves to think about them and talk about them, but wouldn't necessarily want to experience them firsthand.

jodie has kindly given me permission to share one of those fantasies here. this is one we have gotten a lot of mileage from since we started telling each other our secrets in bed. and although i agree with her that this is not something that i would feel too comfortable about if it actually happened, i have no problem admitting that she's not the only one who gets turned on by thinking about it.

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she's riding the metro home from work. it's the height of rush hour, and the subway car is packed with tense, tired commuters, anxious to get home. finding no seat empty, jodie wedges herself into the dense, faceless tangle of people and grabs an overhead bar to steady herself as the train lurches forward.

the air is thick and cloying in her nose. people try to read their newspapers, listen to their walkmans, talk to their traveling companions as best they can, but the press of humanity restricts movements and inhibits conversation. for lack of anything better to look at, jodie focuses her attention on a magazine being perused by the woman in front of her. she soon becomes engrossed in celebrity gossip, and loses track of the train's jostling and the swaying bodies, listening for her station with only half an ear.

when she feels the hand moving slowly along her leg, she tenses. indignant fury replaces the shock that initially paralyzes her. she can't believe it. in all the years she's ridden the metro, she's never been felt up by a random pervert on the train. sure, she's heard stories, but she never thought that it would happen to her. she clamps her hand around the wrist snaking along her skirt, preparing to punch the creep's lights out.

just as she's getting ready to launch into a volley of abuse at the top of her lungs, something stops her short. a couple of things, actually. for one, the wrist she's holding is large, powerful. the owner made no move to draw it back when she grabbed it, and she's amazed by the strength it radiates as it hovers scant centimeters from the swell of her hip. the second thing she notices is his scent. when she reached back to snatch the offending wrist, her nostrils picked up a dark, spicy odor. the mingled fragrance of clean skin and musky cologne. against her will, her eyes close and her mouth opens ever so slightly as she breathes in the pungent smell.

whether it's the scent of her unknown assailant, or the power she feels pouring from him, jodie does something that she never in a million years would have imagined herself doing. taking a deep breath, she lowers the hand she's holding back down against her thigh.

her eyes dart around the rocking subway car to see if any of her fellow passengers have noticed what has transpired in the past few seconds. but it's been a long, hot day and everyone is tired and distracted, so jodie sees nobody who is looking in her direction. once she is sure that no one is watching, she closes her eyes and abandons herself to the sensations produced by the anonymous man behind her.

the tiny hairs at the back of her neck prickle when she feels the man's warm breath against them, his lips perilously close to her flesh. his hand, bolder now, is roaming confidently along her flank, curving around to the front of her thigh. jodie feels the heat of his body as he uses a sudden bump in the train's passage to press himself more tightly against her. through the expensive material of her black, professional looking skirt, she can clearly feel his hardness against her rear. though a part of her still wants to break free and slap him, or to run as far and fast as she can, she is unable to deny the warmth and moisture gathering between her legs. she even stuns herself by pushing her hips out ever so slightly, grinding her bottom softly against his pelvis.

jodie feels her temperature rising, and shoots another furtive glance around the car to make sure no one is watching. she makes no move to stop the stranger as, emboldened further by her response, he moves his hand from her leg to her torso and begins to caress her right breast through the fabric of her blazer and blouse. jodie's cheeks are on fire as she feels the point of her breast stiffen. she looks down at the hand at her chest. it is large and strong indeed, with long, finely formed fingers and dark, dark skin. the veins that stand in proud relief across the knuckles run along the massive wrist and disappear into the bright french cuff of the man's dress shirt. jodie imagines herself naked under that hand, imagines it probing the darkest, most secret parts of her body, imagines it commanding her to open, like a fruit or a flower.

behind her, the man seems harder than ever. his lips are actually brushing the back of her neck now, landing feather-light kisses at the top of her spine and behind her earlobe. his scent fills her nostrils once again as the train jostles them against each other. the strong fingers slip beneath her jacket and begin to stroke her breast lightly.

jodie is past caring whether they are discovered at this point. in a haze of desire, she reaches back, touches the wool of his slacks, cups the bulge there. she gasps. he is huge. and he is hard, harder than she has ever felt a man to be. she thinks about that enormous hardness penetrating her, opening her, sinking deep into her, and she bites her lip. he has undone the two top buttons of her blouse now, and his sure fingers are travelling across the flushed skin of her braless breasts.

jodie feels ready to burst, feels a desperate need to get out of the cramped car and go to a room with him, get naked with him, feel him naked against her. dimly, she hears the conductor announce the metro center station, feels the train jolt to a stop. she waits, breathing hard, for the usual rush of people to exit the train, so that she can turn around and see his face, when she abruptly realizes something.

he is gone. he joined the crush of bodies leaving the train and has left her there, hot, shuddering and unsatisfied. jodie grits her teeth. she wants to cry out in frustration, she wants to kick something. she looks out with hooded eyes into the crowded station. the doors on the subway car chime as they prepare to close.

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"and what do you do then?" is the question i always ask jodie when she reaches this point in her story. sometimes the fantasy stops there. sometimes she continues, the story taking on new twists and variations. the ending i like best has her leaping out of the subway car just as the doors are closing, then standing on the platform, waiting to see if he is still there.

what would you do then? what are some of your fantasies? would you like to see them fulfilled, or not? if so, why? if not, why not? and let me know if you would like to hear one of jodie's possible endings to this particular fantasy.

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