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Wednesday, October 26, 2005


Dear Man On The Tube,

You may think I didn’t notice how you scanned the carriage as you entered and made eye contact with me before sitting next to me.

Perhaps you observed how even though you were clearly a handsome chap, I only looked at you once before pretending to fiddle with my ipod.

Maybe you knew that I would find someone like you, very appealing. It is true that in your tall, blue-eyed, sexy mid-thirtyish way, I would consider you ripe and perfect for picking.

So when you kept staring at my reflection in the window, and I turned to look away, I shall have you know that it was because I was practising my willpower and self-control, rather than it being due to disinterest.

Even when you half-smiled at me.

You see, you kept making it difficult for me with your ingenious calculating manly ways. When you spread your legs and ensured they rested against mine at all times, you must have known how hard it was for me not to place my hand on your thigh and squeeze it gently.

And when you slid your forearm alongside my own so that I could feel your skin against mine, it was surely obvious that I was fighting the urge to rest my fingers on yours and stroke them gently.

But when you then began to tense the muscles in your leg so that I could feel the movement up against my own thigh, it really was most out of order: don’t you know that a woman like me is unable to resist such a gesture?

The fact that it made me want to,

  1. Slide my hand between your legs;
  2. Raise my leg over yours and squeeze your thigh underneath mine;
  3. Place your hand between my legs so you could feel my wetness;

and I managed to gently move my own thigh away, whilst trying to maintain an air of decency, shows that I do in fact have some willpower and even when faced with such a pussy-tease as you, can enforce some self-control on my part.

Or course it didn’t help that,

  1. I was thinking about what your cock would feel like inside me;
  2. I was wondering whether someone like you could be boyfriend material;
  3. My ovaries were fucking shouting at me that they were ready to pop at any moment and that if I didn’t take the opportunity to get to know you/fuck you/have you as a partner, it would all be too late and they’d dry up like some old prunes;

but I managed to contain myself, even when challenged by someone like you.

I appreciate that you helped me strengthen my resolve, enabling me to delay acting out my desires until I got home later and was tucked up in bed.

I am proud to say I behaved like a lady, treating the situation with dignity and elegance: a truly classy performance all round, and one to be repeated.

(Except that moment when I bent down slightly to give you a better view of my boobs, but let’s not go into that now).

(Even if it did give you some issues in the trouser department).

Yours thankfully,


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