Old Girl's Fantasy
I see you on the bus every morning, sometimes sitting, mostly standing though, a few feet from me, in your work attire, jeans, oxford shirt and tweed sports jacket, everything fits perfectly and once in a while I get a waft of your after shave.
You look good enough to eat, you smell wonderful and when you aren't too preoccupied with the problems of your world, you actually look around and smile at people, but seldom at me.
I'm an older woman, of a certain age, that you wouldn't think twice about in a sexual way, the only smile you send my way is one of benevolent patience as you wait politely for me to exit ahead of you.
Little do you realize that you have been the focus of several of my fantasies in recent months. Young man of the hard body, the beautiful chiseled features, deep soulful eyes. My poor heart flutters if you get near me, if I even imagine your arm brushing against me.
But when I get home from work, and have finished with my daily chores and feeding poor old Darwin, who curls so lovingly around my ankles as I enter my spinsterish apartment, he lets me know in no uncertain terms how hungry he is, that I'm a cruel, hard-hearted woman to leave him to his own devices daily.
When everything is done and I am relaxing in my bath, candles aglow, a glass of wine within easy reach, a beautifully haunting piano melody from the stereo, my mind drifts to you, sweet young man and how I would have you laying before me, naked..... so hard....there for my bidding.
