Summer in Australia is like two girls riding bareback naked, hotter than Hades. You can’t move without thinking of yourself and someone else and with someone else in some form of entwined position, hands roaming, lingering, tongues touching, licking every bit of flesh within reach. Sweat beading, running down in tear droplets on the back of the thighs, down behind the knees where it falters to go any further because your position has changed and it now runs back from where it came, adding to the moisture that is all ready accumulating in your g string.
Despite this wetness there is no relief from the hot feeling that courses through your body like the blood in your veins. Every bit on fire, yearning for some relief yet pleased by the sizzling sensations that summer sends.
Every day of summer makes me feel like this.
The intensity of this feeling is at it’s most strongest when I travel late afternoon from my work in Sydney, to my home on the coast, fifty minutes of torturous pleasure, especially when the air conditioning on the train is down where I wish so many other things would be. Most days the ride home is silenced by the noise of the train, everyone hot and tired from a long day at work, eager for their homes, families, backyard swimming pools or if lacking that, the drive to the nearest beach.
I wanted for none of those things. I wanted to savour the taste of this heat for as long as possible. It possessed me, made me think of nothing but the heat and what I wanted done to my body and what I wanted to do to others. It felt steady and constant like the flame of a candle, sometimes wavering in the burst of a breeze, but always lit with fervour.
It was on a day, early January that the temperature rose to 42c, you couldn’t eat lunch outside for it was like a fevered sickness from going from outside into the sun, to back indoors to the falsified air that was frozen.
The passion, the rage that had been building up since the first days of summer were about to erupt. I could feel it as I walked to Central Station. The tightness of my skirt confining it within, the high heels I wore with every step became tighter and tighter, binding me in blind rage to the pathway I walked. My pantyhose imprisoned my g string against my flesh, the jacket I wore constrained my breasts that wanted to spill out into the open, be damned to those I passed and feel the sun’s rays burning into my skin. Everything about my outfit screamed bondage to me at that moment. I could feel the devil’s teardrops running down my back, soaking my white blouse. I had chosen not to wear a bra this day because I knew it would send me over the edge, rubbing against my nipples. They too were now erect without the help of this rubbing and I longed to have someone’s mouth covering them, their tongue circling, suckling, taking me deeper and deeper into the madness I knew I was suffering from.
I stepped onto the train just before it pulled out. I was thankful that today’s ride home would be blessed in silence for it was still school holidays and there would be no children, teenagers to chatter as they do. It was also an earlier train then what I usually get, before rush hour so maybe I would have the carriage to myself ... just maybe.
I sat in back of the last carriage. There was no one else with me in the lower deck but I did hear someone upstairs. It still wouldn’t prevent me from doing what I had planned to do. The seats in front of me faced the way we going, both on the right and left hand sides, you could move them from one side to the other so you can travel facing either direction. I needed some room so I pushed the one in front of me forward. It was the tiny part of me that was of a cruel and evil nature that stopped me from pleasuring myself right then and there. I groaned in frustration at this decision but knew I wanted to wait for a few moments longer.
We passed station after station and as the sun shone through the windows, I was blinded by the light, my vision seeing waves of red and purple. Gently I closed them and begun. I removed my jacket and undid the buttons of my blouse, starting from the top working halfway down. This way if I had the worst kind of luck with some school holiday camp boarding halfway through I could easily fix myself without ruining any of the kiddies for life. Freed finally, I cupped my breasts in pure bliss, squeezing them gently, passing each finger over my nipples. I moved my fingers to my mouth running them over my lips, sucking each one, rolling my tongue around them inside my mouth.
Arching my back, I dragged my hand down my chin and neck, in an open palm like someone about to choke me with one hand but moving to the collarbone instead, gently brushing the fingertips back and forth as I trailed down to my breasts, circling the nipple of one side, and then moving to the other, increasing the pressure slightly until both were erect. I moaned as I had been aching for this touch for so long. I wanted someone else to be doing this to me, to be taken, to be touched, so my own hands were free to play.
