PSALMS OF DEPRIVATION

Eight: "SPILLED MILF"

The world is a crazy place. I was thirsting over this broad for the past few weeks but had never even spoken to her. I never even planned on it. I was completely content with appreciating her from a distance. Yet here I come to find out she's sitting in her car discussing me with her husband. It felt good. It made me feel as though, had the circumstances been different, I would have been able to clap her butt cheeks. Too bad she has a husband, I thought to myself. Then again, what does that matter?

Another announcement came from the speakers, this time informing us that our train had been canceled. The next one wouldn't come for another hour. People began exiting the platform to find other means of transportation.

"I'm not even surprised. Public transportation cannot be depended on," I jokingly said to her.

"You ain't lying. So, what are you going to do?" she asked.

"I take this train in preparation for it being late or canceled. I'm probably just going to wait here for the next one. How about you?

"I'm going to wait for the next one too. I only live a few blocks away. I guess I'll go home in the meantime and come back."

"Shit. Yeah, you might as well," I replied.

We said our goodbyes and she started walking away. Then she stopped and walked back. "I feel bad leaving you here to wait all by yourself. Why don't you come back to my place with me? I'll make us some coffee while we wait," she offered generously.

Needless to say, I was quick to take her up on the offer.

We got to Michelle's place and I sat down at the breakfast nook as she started making the coffee. I watched her ass wiggle back and forth as she made her way around the kitchen, her high-heels clicking all over her hardwood floor. I was floored and had a bit of hardwood, myself. I noticed that her legs were all oiled up. I started having this fantasy of her spilling the coffee on herself and having to take her clothes off. Next thing you know I envisioned myself tossing her on the kitchen table and treating her pussy like breakfast, lunch and dinner. I looked down and noticed that my dick was visibly erect. I started doing multiplication tables in my head so the hard on would go away.

Once the coffee was ready Michelle suggested we go into the living room to drink it. We sat on the sofa next to each other and got to talking. I made up my mind that I was going to try and finesse a quickie out of this interaction. The train wasn't coming for another half hour. I knew I couldn't be too heavy handed in my proposition. This situation needed to be handled delicately. I wanted to rub her booty, not rub her the wrong way.

I noticed that there were a bunch of framed pictures on the coffee table. I zeroed in on her wedding photo. Her husband was a short, round bald man with a buck-toothed grin. She was way out of his league. He must have bread, I thought to myself. That's the only possible explanation. I decided to use this to my advantage. My plan was to belittle her husband and see how she would respond.

"Is that your husband?" I asked. The surprise in my tone of voice was evident.

She started laughing and put her hands over her mouth. "Oh my god, why did you say it like that?" Some wives would have taken offense to what I said, but she seemed giddily embarrassed. I found it very cute. It also let me know I could go push the boundaries a little further. She was playing right along with my flirtatious advances.

"I'm not trying to talk shit on your dude," I told her, "But you're way too beautiful to be married to that."

"Hey! Knock it off. You're about to have me divorcing my husband," she laughed.

"Shit. You could do a lot better than him. That's all I'm saying. There ain't no way in hell that guy is fucking you right."

"Psssh. Fucking me right? He hardly ever wants to fuck me at all," she told me.