Nonopoly

You should have seen her. With her thick sweatshirt and her heavy, stiff jeans padding her swan body. Her neck craning from the hood like a swan's. The hairs at its nape feathery soft, a nod to her infancy. Girl, fresh as juice. 

It led me somewhere dark, pressed against her as trains raced past, hot as lightning, inches from my back. The yellow-lit windows were a foot above our heads, so that passengers gazed aimlessly at empty stone walls while my doe screamed beneath the thunder and roar. It made my blood rush, my heart race, my skin sweat. O My Bride I could Not Wait! I ached for a suckling. I pulled myself to stiffen, and let it in her mouth as the metal cars shook and screamed behind me. Her lips were puckered and smushed, like the mouths of the video girls, stuck to dirty bathroom floors like parasites You dirty, Dirty! I cried out into the empty, gray tunnel. 

I felt myself lighter as I lifted from her tear-wet face. 

She passed out sometime along the walk  and I was burdened to carry her slumped body the way back, and considered, twice, just leaving her where I stood. My cock was flushed and disinterested, but such fresh girl was rare. I'll admit, what a pleasure it was, to lay her down on the crates and unveil her myself. Slowly drawing the zipper from neck to navel. Pulling the hem of her shirt above her breasts. And then the again, with her cotton knit training bra.

They hung. Like fruit. Fresh juice. Fresh as juice.

I found great pleasure in the way my cracked, yellow fingertips looked as they traced her skin from neck to navel. And I liked the vulnerability of her gullet, the way her belly gave. When my peeling, wind-whipped fingers explorations reached the damp pit between her clenched thighs she crooned, "no, no, plea-"

nonoplea nonoply nonopo-ly  I sang in my head to the rythym of my hips. I stared into the dawning sky pulsing and throbbing to blurry whimpering and creaking docks. nonopoly. I savored her reactions to fingers and fists and meat pressed to fit into her warm groin. How we'd struggled against each other in the beginning as I'd pushed blindly trying to find her ends, and how she'd scrambled like a fish out of water. no. no. no. please. please. please. 

I was gone by the time sunlight lifted over Nonopoly's body, which was left with my fillings on the main way. Her pants were left ruffled at her resting ankles. The streets began to fill. She was still alive, muttering, weeping, sobbing, blubbering. But softly. Respectably.

The men who passed enjoyed the way her trembling made her pink flesh quiver, and walked on.