One my way to lunch, I checked my mailbox. “What do we have here?” Two weeks later, my copy of “Hogg” was finally delivered. Pleasant surprise. Taking the package with me, I thought I’d thumb through a few pages before returning to work. To get all of the introductions and character development out of the way. The cover art was obscurely designed, no one would have a clue about the subject matter I was reading.
Sitting with a dish of spinach pakora and a mango lassee, I began to read, “I’d nose between the brass teeth to smell his sweat. He would push his penis and two testicles into my mouth.” I feared that I’d tip my table over! I didn’t expect to be so forcibly aroused by what I was reading. I didn’t expect the sex to begin so soon into the story. Delany’s words sent a surge of blood and electricity to my crotch, making me fully erect. I couldn’t stand up like this in public.
That aroused me further.
“Holding his thin hips, I toweled my tongue inside his foreskin till, leaning and grunting, he would spurt his greasy juice.” To read something so filthy next to a family eating their meal. To be rock hard in an Indian restaurant at 1 p.m. Fighting the compulsion to give the head of my cock a little squeeze, I’ve never felt such a division between my reason and sexuality. In addition to this internal conflict, I found a special arousal in the fact that I was engaging in this battle amongst the general public.
An erotic echo.
On the Stairmaster. At work when my office is completely empty. While my brother watches reality T.V. Reading erotica in public tugged on my exhibitionism in a very satisfying manner. There’s something about sharing space with someone who’s oblivious about the filth of my thoughts. Stoking my sexual energies while they click away on their iPhones. Wipe their children’s runny noses. Giggle with their friends. I was standing next to their everyday moments with a throbbing erection (bound by two pair of briefs).
My favorite place to read: public transportation. On the BART. On the bus. A taxi. Sitting behind a fellow passenger, I begin to incorporate the person’s fragrance into the storyline. I imagine the guy behind me glancing over my shoulder and catching the words, ‘cock’, ‘cunt’ and ‘cum‘. I think of their potential response. Having the seat to myself and another half an hour of travel time ahead….I secretly give myself a little squeeze and pray the wetness dries before my stop.