Flashback

As we push through the crowd, you start to grumble. Disneyfied, you gripe. Sanitized. You miss the pre-Giuliani peep shows, you claim, although I know you never indulged. You were still an innocent then, another wholesome midwestern boy newly arrived. But you like to reminisce.

I grab you, ford the stream of passers-by. "Peep shows, huh?" I murmur, stealthily unbuttoning underneath my coat. You catch on fast, lean in, shielding me from view so you can get your eyeful. I really only mean to flash you my bra, but you slip your hands inside and undo the front clasp, cupping my tits. You kiss my neck, push me against the wall. I realize too late that you've pinned me there at the elbows, nudging my coat open to expose me.

"No," I whisper, but I can't free myself. My nipples throb and ache in the cool air and my cheeks burn. A lanky hipster type stops to look. "Hold her," you say, and the guy grips me hard enough to bruise. Kneeling, you grin up at me, neon reflecting in your eyes. "Crossroads of the world," you muse, lifting my skirt. "A juncture. Everything converges here." You pull my panties aside and dive in, burying two fingers in my cunt. My captor sucks on one nipple, bites down on the other as I groan and start to come, oblivious now to bystanders.

-- Yeah, I didn't know about that webcam either. Broadway and 46th Street. Um, oops.

I ❤ NY.

[written for Alison Tyler's ❤ contest]