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There's an Armed Forces recruiting booth on the traffic island in the middle of the square, and I walk over and check out their posters. It seems half a lifetime ago, but the poster with the clean-cut, steel-jawed Marine DI in his Smokey Bear hat brings back memories of a dark morning in Parris Island, South Carolina, a lengthy bus ride through the darkness, and yellow footprints on faded concrete.There are news stands everywhere, hawking everything from newspapers to magazines to porno DVDs. Just ten years ago, I would have picked up a newspaper and searched through the classified ads for housing and employment, but times have changed. Now everything is at our fingertips instantaneously through the Internet, and the only people skimming the newspaper classifieds for jobs are old-timers without computer skills, or poor slobs who can't afford even the five bucks it takes to log onto a loaner at the Internet café for an hour. Every little hole-in-the-wall coffee place seems to offer. “Yes…” Marianne whimpered, “Oh God yes…”“Tell me to fuck you.”“Fuck me, fuck me Jack.”“Beg me to fuck you.”No hesitation, no tut or rebuke for my coarse language. Instead, a soft gasp of defeat, her hips tried to take me in.“I’m begging you.”Fiercely hard, it was too easy to breech her. She coated me quickly, broiling hot, so wet that I could pound her with ease. The precariousness of our situation made it a different kind of slow, not out of boredom but torture.I paused, half-in, half-out and felt how snug she held me. Pressing on, Marianne shuddered with a yelp.“God, you are so hard.”“Would you like to fuck there? There with them so they could watch?”I had to say it, I had to push the boundaries, this might be a one-off, nothing more than a fantasy fuck. I felt determined to make it real and the compulsion to know felt too great to resist.“Uh huh.”It was not a gasp but a deep groan; she tried to fuck me in short movements. Words were superfluous, we communicated through.
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