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“Hands behind your head,” she said. My heart dropped a bit, but I did so.“You seem to enjoy watching your wife be tormented. Is that true?” she asked.“Yes, Ma’am, I guess so,” I said.“You think it’s ok to get an erection while I torture your wife’s nipples and shove a finger in her ass?”“Um, no, Ma’am, I guess not,” I said. I wasn’t really sure what the right answer was there, but I suspected it didn’t matter anyway.“No, it’s not, of course,” she muttered. She walked over to one of the drink trays and took one of the empty glasses still holding ice.She walked back in front of me and withdrew a cube that she rolled about in her hand. She went behind me, spread my cheeks, and rammed the cube there. “Squeeze!” she barked. I nearly fell forward, but she reached around and grabbed my cock to pull me back. I settled down and tried to clench my cheeks on the frozen cube.Once she was confident I was holding it, she went back around to the front and picked up two more cubes. She put them in. There was really no reason to leave. Keeping to himself was better than getting a job. Dealing with others was the hell to avoid, and he had no problem running from people’s curiosities, their nightmares, their attitudes, their likes and dislikes, their sensitivities. Actually it was the ideation of meeting interesting people, more than the labor it took to meet real people, that proved to be more pleasurable. The idea of sleeping with the woman near him on the platform was more attractive to him than sticking his hand out and actually meeting her for the first time. A form of dementia, he mused, but a form that worked for him, and if he were not careful, a form that would be the end of him.When the train arrived he stepped into an air-conditioned car and wondered what was so wrong with him. The basics of being a social human being had eluded him. He thought people either wanted money or else wanted to justify their own strangeness in some way. They all wanted something out of him,.
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