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 ï>¿Study Stress by cowboy109

   Upstate girl finds a way to relieve study stress in NYC.

   Starting life in NYC was a tumultuous time.  One day, I had been living
in Livingston Manor, an idyllic place in Upstate NY.  Fly fishing has been
the draw for people from the big city for decades.  They love to come up
here to stand for hours in streams covered by a thick canopy of forest.  My
mother was a grounds keeper at the Livingston Manor Fly Fishing Club, a
members only club with a history.  She'd stack the wood with care to
provide the right kind of dry tinder at the bottom and leave air gaps so
that the logs could breathe well.  The members could throw a single match
in to light up their evenings and leave beer bottles strewn around for her
to collect.  We lived tucked away in an old hunting cabin in the forest. 
Everyone I knew I had known since I can remember.  My afternoons were
exploring the forest and maybe making it over to Maddie.

   Now, I was in NYC.  My whole life I had prepared for starting my life
ones I would get out of Livingston Manor.  I had gotten into Hunter College
with a major for biology.  I figured that my background of growing up in
nature and a destination somewhere in medicine might make for a good path.
My dad had found me a place to live on the East River side of Alphabet
City, a little room in the apartment of a retired hippie.  Jackson was
always home, listening to Grateful Dead and smoking weed.  The place was
crammed with plants and indiscernible stuff that had yellowed a decade ago.
My room was bare, except for the camping pad, my clothes all over the
floor, and a shiny new iMac, that the CUNY system had gifted me.

   My first day in the city had been full of excitement.  All the colorful
people like a woman walking in a Victorian dress down the street or the
black gay guy in a thong and cowboy hat on the subway, the famous sites
everywhere like the Empire State Building seemingly peeking at me
everywhere from its high perch, and the energy of people yelling at cabs,
Grubhub bicyclists blaring music while going the wrong way, and beautiful
boobs everywhere -- a girl knows what she likes.

   But the first day of class had been disappointing.  I tried to make
friends.  This tall red head with a skinny chest and wide hips introduced
herself as Megan.  Yet her eyes were so empty.  They were like they were
glazed over and not present.  Right as, I sat myself on a desk top to relax
into getting to know her, she walked on to rush home.  It was so easy to
say hi to classmates, but their mind was always focused on something else.
I ended up walking home alone through the crowd.  And this time, I saw the
scarier parts of the crowd.  I saw the homeless, scrawny body of a man with
his pants at his knees and holes in his t-shirt the size of a water melon.
He lay across the sidewalk crowded with people, yet everyone stepping
around him.  I saw the drug dudes on St Mark's Place hitting on every woman
that passed.  A giantly big woman with flip flops hit me with her bag on my
head because I walked to slowly.

   When I was back in my room, I felt like a haunted animal locked up. 
There were people everywhere but nobody cared about me.  The city felt like
a swirling mass that made me go out of my mind.  I couldn't go back to my
childhood home because that place had suffocated me throughout my junior
years.  Jackson was howling to Grateful Dead outside my door.  Outside my
window, a drug addicted mom was yelling at her sobbing five year old on a
scooter, the hateful words echoing between the buildings on the narrow
street.

   I opened my book about plant biology.  Ms.  Anderson had given us not a
few pages to read, but we had to read each chapter start to finish.  There
were three chapters to be read.  Fuck my life, this wasn't Central School,
where we took walks through the forest to learn real biology instead of
sitting all day in class.  I flipped to the first page.  Learning the
elements of a flower was soothing because it was familiar and gave me a
sense of progress.  That was until the light outside started darkening and
my head turned into a pounding hammer.  Too much studying, but there were
still two more chapters to get through before class tomorrow.

   Pushing on, I felt worse and worse.  The tension in my head had become
such a strong pain that I couldn't think.  My stomach was churning from it,
only eating pop tarts all afternoon wasn't helping either.  The street
noise of intermittent ambulance sirens wailing and heavy trucks banging
through potholes had gotten to me.  My whole being had turned into feeling
pain and misery everywhere.  I wanted to puke -- the kind of dry puke
impulse that doesn't actually give you the relief of releasing.

   There is a strange thing about me.  The only thing that gives me release
from this bodily pain is masturbating.  I kind focus on something fun like
TV at this time, but the pleasure of sex can take me there.  And then an
orgasm is a moment, a few seconds of half a minute where the pain recedes
to bliss.  After with a little luck, I'll pass out and the sleep can cure
the headache.  My instinct had gotten used to connecting headaches with
masturbating.  When I reached into my pants, I only felt dryness that was
unhappy to touch.  The shriveled up petals of my flower weren't ready to be
caressed.

   I tried to study more.  Yet every word I tried to focus on made me
cringe from the burst of head tension.  I felt even more like an animal, so
reduced from my ability to function.  Out of desperation, I did a wild
thing.  I slipped out of my clothes.  I slipped into a pair of overall
jeans.  Those are the jeans that have a front over the body and shoulder
straps.  I wore nothing underneath it.  I checked in the mirror that the
area with the buttons for the shoulder straps covered my nipples -- but
barely.  The side of the front left the tear drop shape of my side boobs
visible to the passersby.  My breasts were unrestrained and flowing with
ripples and motions as I walked.  The idea alone of being exposed started
to get the blood flowing to my nether parts.

   I slipped out of the house.  I didn't like the streets of Alphabet City.
There was a mix of ghetto brothers hanging out in the street, substance
dependent people pushed their way past the police station, and there was a
ton of dog shit on the ground like nobody cared and the city sanitation
department didn't bother coming.  I walked swiftly southwest towards SoHo,
the pretty part of town.  Elegant fashion stores are set in quaint historic
light manufacturing buildings on cobble stone streets.  Throngs of tourists
mix with glammed up models.  That's where I liked showing off my body.  The
farmer john jeans were baggy by themselves -- nothing sexy, but not wearing
anything underneath it, let that baggy material move around me and give all
kinds of peeks through the side onto my body.  When I was bending over to
adjust my Doc Martin shoe laces, I believe that my breasts hang completely
free letting people look at my nipples.

   Nobody said anything.  The stream of people on the sidewalk simply
opened in front of me and closed back together again.  But I could see the
eyes of the boyfriends, holding their girl friends' hands while their eyes
were fastened on my chest.  A hungry, greedy gaze would erupt on their
eyes. One moment, their eyes looked dull, staring ahead into pedestrian
traffic focusing on nothing in specific.  The next moment, they focus with
intensity on my chest and track it as we moved past each other.  There'd be
a smirk, a mix of devil and happy child, would light up.  Sometimes, their
girlfriends' faces would darken, but often they kept the same empty
expression that New Yorkers carry in the street.

   As I walked, I could feel my sex moisten a little bit.  With each step,
there was a little bit more of a glide.  I wasn't aroused yet, but I had
enough of a sniff of how good arousal would feel like to want to push the
envelope.  In a quieter side street, where the fancy stores like Channel
and Gucci like to be, away from Broadway with the consumer brands like
Super Dry, I stopped to pretend to be on my phone.  That would allow guys
to have more of a look at me, as they could see me from the distance.

   A dressy guy walked up to me.  He had a sports jacket with a floral
print.  The jacket was open to reveal a shirt of one of those summer
textile textures that's so airy.  The shirt was unbuttoned all the way down
to below the chest to reveal a bit of bare chiseled chest.  That chest was
shaved smooth.  His eyebrows were carefully groomed.  The clothes on his
body were tailored to give that dressy fresh of the runway feel.  The heel
of his fine leather shoes echoed against the historically preserved store
facades.

   From the start of the block, he had his eyes on me.  They were festooned
on the breasts at first.  He was probably trying to make out the details,
and savor the juiciness of my young flesh.  Then his gaze wandered all over
my body.  He was probably picturing my naked on top of the sateen sheets of
his SoHo loft with floor to ceiling windows -- and perhaps a view of the
Hudson if it was high enough.  When he got almost into talking range, his
eyes fastened to my eyes.  He sent me a soft smile that sent shivers up and
down my spine.  There was so much elegant manliness in his face.  His
cheekbones had a chiseled thing like from a Photoshopped magazine cover to
it.  He knew what he was doing.  He let his gaze ooze his energy into mine.
I felt like screaming: "Make me one of your girls!  Take me to your fancy
restaurants!  I'll dress up real sexy for you to show me off!" Right as he
passed me, when I could see the details of his eyes and the pores of his
skin, my body felt soft like melting.  He gave a little nod like he
recognized me and walked on to disappear in the masses.

   I felt stage 1 moisture in my sex.  I also felt pounding in my heart
cavity.  Phew!  This was doing it.  I had all but forgotten about the
headache right as it was fading back in.  I needed more of that high.  I
felt hooked and at a point where I knew that I never had been able to stop
until I got my release.

   I knew I needed more of a surge, but I also knew that taking my top down
to bare my boobs would have been too tasteless.  How could I increase the
intensity?  How?!  And then it happened by accident.  I had drifted up
towards Washington Square Place, the center of NYU.  The streets had gotten
more crowded.  And after a traffic light street crossing, I had gotten
stuck in a particular dense pack of humans.  I had to slow my pace.  And I
was pushed right next to people from all sides.  I was very aware of
personal space and cautious about avoiding to bump into anyone or suddenly
slow down to let the person behind me step on me from behind.  So next to
me was this Latin college kid caught in the same situation.

   His eyes kept wandering to my side to steal a glimpse.  He'd always
follow it up by looking the other side as well to pretend like he was only
scanning the area.  Yet, his eyes came back, they tried to find their way
through the side of the front cover of my farmer john jeans.  He admired
the luscious side boob, but he was hoping to steal a glance of my nipples
that were pressed against the fabric.  And no matter how the loose fabric
moved around and how clear of a vision he got of my side boob, those damn
nipples eluded him.

   I could sense that he was moving as close as he could get to me.  He
seemed to be speeding up and slowing down just a tad to see if he could get
another angle.  His face was covered with summer night heat sweat pearls.
And his finger-long black hair looked wet as well.  I could almost get a
hint of his body odor.  He was so close, in such an intimate range.  And he
was so feverously obsessed with my body, while he was trying to pretend
like he was walking straight ahead.  I checked the front of his shorts. 
There was a bulge.  We were two strangers walking the city, arousing each
other.  If I had allowed him to finger me, he would have happily obliged,
but I was too shy for that.  I got my cheap thrills by being close but no
more.

   I ended up on Washington Square Place at all.  Because it's at the
center of NYU, the public park turns into a college place.  There are
college students having dance parties to loud portable stereos.  There are
skater kids running over every pedestrian in sight.  The cops are on the
sideline.  In between are vendors trying to sell bracelets and self-painted
art.  A pink flamingo float was left behind in the water fountain.  I much
preferred the grown, elegant men of SoHo ogling me instead of the young
kids.  I feel like they bring so much elegance to it.

   Not sure where to go from here and still driven to cure that headache
and nauseated stomach.  I stopped.  My gaze got lost looking in the crowd.
Streets and streets were tiring me.  I needed another hit of arousal.  My
pussy was drying up.

   "Hey, beautiful!" I turned to my side.  There was a dark skinned girl
with kinky hair sitting Indian style on the ground with her skirt covering
her knees.  She seemed had a Dominican look about her.  In front of her was
a scarf stretched out, presenting a dozen hand painted ceramic tiles.  She
seemed like she had painted it herself and was trying to make some money.
They were colorful motives of cheery scenes like summer, sun, and beach or
full moon, dance, and fiddle.  Her facial features had a roundness to her
that gave her a homely and very friendly feel.

   As I inspected her closer, the pretty skirt was actually a plaid skirt
and combined with the knee high socks played on a sexy theme.  Her nipples
held up the shapes of piercings against the ribbed wife beater top that she
was wearing.  She was quite well endowed and still firm from her youth. 
Her ear rings seemed like actual paper clips.  Her beautifully glowing eyes
were circled by black makeup.  The warm, friendly façade was peeling away
to give a sense of a dangerous, wild woman.

   "You have beautiful boobs!  They have just the right hang!" I gasped! 
She was so bold.  Part of the game of exhibitionism was that nobody would
talk about it.  My heart pounded.  I felt scared.  I liked hiding a bit and
observe the world.  Being on a platter and directly confronted was
intimidating.

   "Don't be scared!  You can have a look at mine!" With that the woman got
up.  Her body was agile and fast.  She came close to me and pulled her wife
beater top forward so that I could look over the rim of the neck opening.
They were beautifully full sized breasts.  They were nicely rounded and the
size of a cantaloupe.  They'd probably feel reach in my hands.  She did
have a barbell piercing in each nipple.  The nipple was a little enlarged
from it.  She laughed at me disarmingly because she caught me studying her
boobs so earnestly.  But I hadn't gotten to look at black boobs in
Livingston Manor.  It's a very white place.

   "Boo, you look like you need something to eat!" She took my hand.  How
bold!  She said something over her shoulder to the other vendor near her.
The vendor scooted his butt to the side to sit behind both fare offerings.
The strange girl simply pulled me by my hand through the crowd of WSP,
which was half keg party crowd and half nerds hanging out in groups.  Her
hand felt soft and warm.  As much as I felt taken aback and concerned, my
heart loved holding onto her hand.  There was finally someone in this city
you had reached out to me.

   We got a hotdog each from a food truck that was parked half on the
sidewalk.  We were standing next to a noisy portable generator for it
because the obstacle gave us a little space from constantly moving crowd. I
don't know.  There was something romantic about a hot summer night, a new
friend, and being in this unfamiliar environment.  She ate her hot dog with
so much gusto.  And I could feel a part of my headache releasing with each
bite of food that I got into my grumbling empty stomach.  I'm a light girl.
When my stomach is empty, it's probably not much larger than a walnut. 
That hotdog brought such welcome warmth and expansion to my belly.

   Rose was her name.  She still lived with her parents on the eastern part
of Brooklyn.  She was also studying at a CUNY college.  And selling little
things gave her a little pocket money.  Was a music lover of the old stuff
like nirvana.  She felt that the classics had a lot more substance to them
than the modern songs that are purely made to top the charts quickly, but
not meant to be played a hundred times while you develop a relationship to
the song.

   She seemed like a really nice and wholesome girl for five minutes of
talking.  That's all it took to eat the hot dogs.  Like everything else in
NYC, you pay more and get a smaller serving.  Then she bust out: "Do you
want to do a fun thing?" I had my guard down from the meal in my belly and
her friendly chart.  "Sure," I said.

   "I picked you because I could see that you like to have fun.  You were
getting off on showing your body.  I could see it in your face."

   I felt so caught!  I froze up.  She got a small glass vial out of her
panties.  She drizzled white powder, like a pile of salt onto the fleshy
bit on the back of her hand between the thumb and index finger bones.  She
held it up to me and asked me to sniff.  I was all tensed up.  Those were
drugs!  She noticed my reluctance and eased me with, "It's just something
to help your headache."

   That feeling that I got about Rose when she was pulling me through the
crowd by my hand.  I got that feeling again.  My heart loved that warm pull
from her to follow her, to trust her, to let go into her safe hands.  My
chest eased with an exhale.  I leaned forward and sucked in hard through my
right nostril.  The stuff hit like sticky salt.

   She quickly rushed to get a sniff into her nose as well.  I could feel
the eagerness in her eyes, like she was panicking a bit on missing whatever
I was about to embark.  And then my heart made a huge pound -- a pound that
was so huge like I had never felt it before.  It felt like the whole ocean.
The pounds in my chest kept being that huge.  Sweat started running in
rivulets down my neck and my back.  My whole body got shaky.  My eyes got
blurry with tears.  I kept snapping air like a fish on water.  My muscles
felt like they were sucking oxygen faster than I could breathe.

   I expected to fall over when Rose grabbed my biceps with both her hands.
I let my knees go out and surrender to her holding me up.  Her eyes looked
way worried.  They were giant.  The white of her eyes showed up so
intensely against the dark skin.

   "Jen!  You have way too much adrenaline!  You need to do something to
release it.  Do the first wild thing that comes into your mind!"

   The fabric of reality had been torn.  My mind was trying to hold onto
staying upright.  The intense bodily sensations were more than I could
handle.  Somewhere that earlier thought of needing a little extra kick to
get my pussy horny popped back in.  The distance between thought and action
had disappeared.  The moment I only thought it, the two buttons on my
farmer john jeans had already popped off.  My boobs were in full view of
the crowd.  I reached my arms straight out and pretended to be a plane.  I
started running in arcs left and right like I was soaring above the skies.
The crowd eased out of my way as I came running.

   Rose hurried to pull her top down to her belly and came running after me
with her arms stretched out.  She was drafting on my flight path.  We
danced around the square.  No crowd formed around us.  A lot of people gave
us tired eyes.  Just for a moment, they looked up -- there goes another
crazy New Yorker -, got out of our way, and continued their lives as
before. It felt so good and so freeing to have our boobs bob up and down
and side to side freely -- us girls -- sisters.  I saw the abandoned smile
on her face as she let herself fall back into childhood memories of running
through wildflower fields with bare feet.

   The adrenaline rush had turned into a blissful feeling of me being
invincible.  I could do things that I was too timid to do.  To use all that
energy and do something wild and free, turned the sensation into sparkles
inside of me.  It was like a rainbow was coursing through my body.  When I
felt he anxiety and bodily panic well up again, I stopped, turned around,
and offered Rose my boobs with both my hands.  She leaned forward and
latched her mouth to my right nipple.  That moment when I felt her wet
tongue on my sensitive nipples and her suction on my boob, I knew that I
was breaking the rules.  And that knowledge and sensation turned the
anxiety/adrenaline back into colorful rainbow sparkles in my body cursing
all around.  My face must have been glowing with joy and bliss.  Rose
gurgled happy sounds of nuzzling on my breasts.  We got a few looks but
nobody stopped.

   When we started coming down from our dance, the clock had advanced past
midnight.  We were covered in sweat from running in the summer heat.  I
started feeling really tired.  Rose said that she had to get home.  Her
organic chemistry class was waiting for her the next morning at Brooklyn
College.  I had my mown class to think about.  We connected on Instagram. I
walked home through the pretty empty streets for New York, reveling in the
memories with Rose and the feel of her touch.

   Oddly, I wasn't wet at all.  I didn't even feel the need to masturbate
anymore.  I guess with the anxiety gone, also the erotic arousal had
stopped.  I simply felt fulfilled, happy, and relaxed.  I snuck into my
room quietly and lay down on my camp mat, falling asleep instantly.

   You know when you wake up happy, you should pull your guard up?  I woke
up happy and relaxed.  When the sunrise tickled my face, I sang 'Three
Little Birds' from Bob Marley in my head.  An hour later, Ms.  Anderson was
handing out the first test sheet.  I did well on the chapters that I read.
However, I was two chapters short of doing the homework assignment.  After
the downfall of messing up the test, my body felt like I had been ground
between two millstones.  Everything felt yucky.  I couldn't get much joy
out of sniffing the flowers Ms.  Anderson was passing out.  Everyone was so
busy writing notes.  None of my classmates had said hi to me or even
smiled. I don't think anybody had smiled at all.  Everyone seemed like a
strung out machine of ambition.  There were a lot of yawns, probably from
studying late.  To my complete surprise, Ms.  Anderson allowed, actually
encouraged, students to bring coffee to class.  That would have never
happened at Central School.

   A few hours later, I was back in my room with the bare walls.  I sat
Indian style with my back against the wall and the textbook on my knees.  I
should decorate the room.  It feels so barren and loveless to come back to
a room with only a sleeping pad, mac laptop, and textbooks.  I read through
the pages.  Each time, I flipped a page, I marked a scratch mark on my
thigh.  It's a little habit that I started as a kid.  Each scratch mark
feels like a little success.  And seeing the number count go up made me
feel accomplished.  I made them high up enough on my thigh so that a skirt
would cover it.

   A message on IG distracted me: "Yo Jen!  I'm in your hood to pick
something up on St.  Marks Place.  I want to see you!  Can you come out and
play?"

   I was so happy.  My friend Rose wanted to see me.  She had such a
softness about her, the way how she held my hands...  and boobs!  I didn't
even check my study schedule.  I went straight to my clothes selection on
the floor.  I wanted to look cute.  I picked a baby blue tennis skirt and a
soft pink crop top.  The white sneakers finished the girly look.  I threw
my curled up thong and bra on the floor.  I knew what she wanted to see in
me.  She liked me being that wild thing that she had met yesterday.

   I looked in the mirror.  My nipples were showing a lot through the sheer
fabric.  I could even tell the color of my nipples.  I knew what to do.  I
slipped out of my room.  My hippie roommate was in the shower.  He'd often
be there for half hour singing Beatles songs -- Yellow submarine.  Under
the kitchen sink, he had a toolbox.  I quietly opened that big clunky
thing. I carefully rummaged through the partially rusted pliers and broken
up nail boxes.  The black electric tape was a little scummy.  After another
check to make sure that he was still singing in the shower, I pulled up my
crop top and applied a cross with electric tape to my nipples.  I put the
crop top back down.  Yep, the cross was nicely visible.

   With a light skip in my steps and a giddy smile on my face, I made my
way out of the rough streets of Alphabet City to the rebellious punk East
Village until I landed at St.  Mark's place.  On one side of the street are
drug dealers sitting on stoops.  The other side has Asians busily slurping
Japanese ramen soup and spicy Szechuan rice dishes.  All the while office
workers streamed out of the Astor Place subway stops onto their way home. I
looked out for Rose and found her talking to a shady black dude with bare
chest and his jeans below his butt.  His hair was all dirty.  His eyes
looked a bit crooked like the crazy homeless eyes do.  He quickly slunk
away when I showed up.

   "Don't worry about, Jesus," said Rose, seeing the worry on my face.  She
grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the seedy St Mark's place to the
wide open Astor Place where women and men in business attire ate salad
boxes from nearby takeout places.  The crisp gray formal dress was
reassuring.  The high heels and ties had a cleanliness about them that
washed away my concerns of the dirt and grime that I had seen on Jesus'
character.

   "Listen," Rose said, "I got an hour.  Then I have to head back to
Brooklyn for class.  Do you want to make the most of the time and do a hit?
You seemed to like it last time."

   I could feel her slipping away.  Last night, it felt like she had all
the time in the world for me.  I felt like I was the center of her world.
That felt so good.  A New York attitude had fallen over her.  She was
rushed like everyone else.  I did not want to lose her.  She was the only
joy and warmth that I felt alone in the city.  "Sure," I told her no matter
how big my reservations about drugs were.  I had doubt about last night. 
The intensity of everything and how I ran around half naked.  A sense of
losing my life to drugs had lingered like a doom over me.

   She carefully poured a cone of white powder in the same spot of her hand
again.  I felt nervous.  I didn't really want to do it.  I really wanted
her to be my friend.  I really wanted her to cuddle me, hold me, and her
soft, warm body pressing against me.  I didn't want to go back to that
place of overwhelming adrenaline.  Such ambivalence welled up in me, but
most of all, I wanted to keep her.  I wanted to light up her brown face and
make those cheeks twinkle with happiness.

   I steeled myself against chickening out.  I bowed forward.  I smelled
her hand.  There was a musk smell to it, something dull and deep like aged
incense.  I really simply wanted to lay in her arms and smell her -- to be
enveloped by her smell and being.  I knew she wanted to do that white
powder.  I sniffed.  It hit me harder than before.  All my muscles tensed
up.  I felt like at the end of a sprint that had gone on twice too long.  I
snapped for oxygen.  "Breathe!" I told myself.

   Then a furtive search in my mind for a thrill set in.  "Find a thrill!
It's the only way to flip the sensation!" I saw a traffic light post.  I
pictured showing all those people underneath my bare pussy under my skirt.
The moment that thought entered my mind.  I had already reached under
Rose's dress to pull her panties down.  No sane person would have done such
a thing.  Rose was still holding her head back to sniff the powder deeper.
A madly satisfied smile spread over her big mouth when she felt my fingers
rummaging for her panties and pulling them down.  For extra kick, I stuffed
the navy blue cottons into her mouth.  She joyfully showed me the gleam of
her white teeth with some of the panty fabric in between her teeth.

   I grabbed her hand and ran toward the yellow of the light pole.  I
climbed on top of the trash can next to it.  There was a bracket on the
light pole that I could get my white sneaker on to step up higher.  My
hands reached high to feel the cross beam.  The cross beam was angled
upwards.  The rough metal hurt the skin on my fingers.  I kept moving one
hand in front of the next, my body dangling beneath.  Rose was right behind
me, when hand over hand I swung myself towards the end of the cross beam.
We were over the pedestrian side, not the car side.  Rose was strong.  She
climbed after me effortlessly.

   The adrenaline intensity had gotten a little better from the physical
action, but the rainbows didn't kick in.  Then I realized that nobody was
really going to be seeing much of my coochie because my thighs were
together.  So I told Rose to kick and swing.  I'd kick with one leg
sideways to let my body turn that way.  And then let the momentum spiral me
back again.  And the motion swirled up my skirt and her dress to provide a
fanned out view for below.  The passersby could see our bare legs stretched
straight out.  Rose did a full split to give people a really good look at
her pussy.  But it didn't work.

   People were kind of looking up at us for a moment like we were circus
performers and moved on.  I didn't get that voyeur sensation that turned me
on.  I needed more of a kick.  I couldn't shake that unpleasant adrenaline
behavior and turn it into rainbows.  I felt frustrated.  My brain tried its
best to up the thrill.  When the light turned to "Don't walk", I yelled
"pee!"

   I let go of my bladder.  It felt freeing to let the current run.  The
warmth felt comforting.  I held my legs wide to not pee on myself.  Rose
followed me.  The shrieks down below felt wonderful in my ears.  Then the
"fuck you!" cursing started.  It oddly didn't affect me at all to have
people be raging mad at us.  People moved away and left two empty circles
beneath us where our pee splattered down.  A stray thought entered my head
that this might be the lowest part of my life -- lost to drugs and an
embarrassment (not a fun one but bad one).

   When I climbed down, I was somewhere still feeling the rush but that
rush was also somewhat dampened by the exciting activity of climbing a
traffic pole, showing off my pussy, and peeing on people.  "Why doesn't it
work?" I asked Rose.

   "Well, it's not personal enough.  You are too removed from feeling the
response of people.  You went too extreme.  You didn't let the emotion
built.  I'll show you what I like to do.  I got to playgrounds and turn the
dad's on." She took my hand.  We ran down the street towards Greenwich
Village, a fancy part of town where people really cherish their gourmet
coffee and wine.  We ran because walking was very hard with the rush.

   The gate clicked behind us as we entered Bleeker playground.  There were
swings, rope castles to climb, and even some water fountains to run
through. Rose had her focus right away set on a middle aged man with a
jacket and vest.  He looked like a school principle from a movie.  His
jacket had brown elbow leather patches.  His glasses were round.  The
expression on his cheeks was long.  He had a newspaper folded out in front
of him over which he occasionally peered at his offspring.  A leather bag
was next to him.  It had all the adorations of a golden buckle, an extra
strap to signify fortification, and stencil patterns punched into the
leather surface.

   Rose picked a bench that was only a couple feet from him so that he
could see us on the side of his paper.  She reclined back on the bench to
curve her back and push her gorgeous breasts out.  They were so ample that
they always changed their shape with her movement.  When she reclined back,
they pancaked a little bit.

   "Do you think the breast surgery worked out," she asked me.

   Those were natural!  I looked at her confused.  She gave me that look
that said: just play long.

   "Wow!  They are amazing!  I can't believe you went three sizes up!  Can
I feel?" I played along with a face that said: What are we doing?

   But I liked the chance to get my hands on Rose's breasts.  I had never
felt them.  They felt soft and firm at the same time.  It was like you
could really think your fingers into them, but they also languidly changed
shape to fit in between whatever spaces you created.  I guess I wasn't
simply checking her boobs, but I was playing with them.  I kind of wished
that I had such feminine body parts.  Mine were small and perky.  I kind of
got lost in feeling how they looked when I pushed them all the way up to
create a revealing cleavage and giggled at the sight of it.

   Then it dawned on me.  There was a feeling that had been there for a
while, but that I hadn't paid attention to.  It was the feeling of being
watched.  The father had raised the newspaper a little more to shield his
face.  And his eyes were all the way in the corner, staring at us.  There
was such an unabashed feeling about the way how he did it.  It felt like he
had learned in life to cover his steps, yet ruthlessly go after what he
wanted behind a pretense façade.  There was a sense of sly danger about
him.  That sense of that he would do anything he wanted and find some way
to make himself beyond reproach.  It scared me a little bit.  And that
little fear set off a little baby rainbow right in the center of my
sternum. That moment, I knew what Rose had meant with the thrill needs to
be personal and felt.

   Now, I know what to do.  I swung my leg around so that was straddling
Rose's lap.  She looked straight at my face.  Her big brown eyes looked
like that of a doe -- peaceful and relaxed.  It was like she knew what was
coming next, and she cherished the feeling of letting it come to her. 
While she was relaxed, slouched down, and reclined over the backrest, I was
the one making moves on her.  I was the one gazing over her body and face
to plan the way I was going to ravish her.  And then I gently got closer to
her.  I knew that this was the time that I would be able to bathe in her
energy and personality.

   My face got slowly closer to her face.  She displayed enormous
restrained not to lurch forward at me, but hold still to wait for me to
come closer.  Her pupils hungrily moved down to look at my lips.  Her lower
lips was big and standing away a bit.  I grabbed her lower lip in between
my lips to give it a little squeeze and tuck.  I was going to let the
satisfaction of a full on mouth kiss linger there.  I closed my eyes.  I
inhaled, pulling all the air away from her to savior that musk scent of her
that's smelled like old incense -- a dark and cavernous gothic church where
the smell of old rock, flowery incense, and aging wood blend.  I felt
secure here.  I'd want to stay here for a long time.  It felt like home,
but I knew that she wanted me to arouse that man on the bench near us.  I
just wanted her to hold me, but I had to pay to keep her interest.

   I let my hand glide through her kinky hair to feel all the webs that my
fingers got stuck in.  When I reached the back of her head, I pulled her
head forward to latch my lips onto hers.  I knew that she wanted me to put
on a show.  So, while I was full on mouthing her, I moved my hand up her
side over her ebony skin to reach under her top and caress the bare skin of
her breasts.  I made sure to pull her top up in such a way that the men
could see her bare side boob while my body covered her front.  Out of the
corner of my eyes, I saw the playground father with a red face, slowly
tilting his hips back and forth.  He couldn't let go of the newspaper that
shielded his face.  So he tried to rub his erection in the pants but only
got a soft simulation.

   Girls have never been my thing.  There was a different attraction with
Rose.  It was the warmth and the joy that radiated out from her and
attracted me.  Her warm facial expression and playful kinky hair gave of
that energy, but it was only a façade, a very compelling one.  She was
trouble underneath.  She was a dangerous influence.  But nothing stopped me
from being drawn in and wanting to be closer to her.  She touched feelings
in me that felt so closed up in this city.  I felt so damn good around her
that I couldn't get enough of her.  And to get more of that good feeling, I
couldn't help but kiss and fondle her.  It wasn't like guys who can get me
all horny and wet.  It was more like a delicious chocolate treat that melts
in your mouth and you can't get enough of.

   Rose stirred from her passive indulging repose.  She held me across the
back and swung us sideways on the bench so that my back was facing the
father.  I felt her lift up the back of my skirt to expose my butt cheeks.
She had carefully let the side of the skirt cover me from everyone but the
men.  She seemed to point at my butt.  I could feel his piercing eyes
burning on my butt.  She seemed to point at me and pimp me out.  I didn't
know how I felt about that.  I held still as in panic.  I held tighter to
her to comfort myself.  She seemed to communicate with the men through
facial expressions.  I could tell her focus was all on that and not on me.

   "Honey, I'll be right back." She told me while she slipped me off of
her. I felt a bit used like a prop that was no longer needed.  She got up
and walked over to the men.  When she passed him.  She let her hand run
over his shoulder.  Then she pulled the back of his jacket up to gesture to
him to follow her.  The man folded up his newspaper and followed Rose
behind the public restroom building.  They were gone.

   That powder makes everything be so instant.  It doesn't feel like time
is passing because every moment is so intense.  Being alone, time and space
suddenly came back to me.  I was sitting alone on a bench in the afternoon.
I had a lot of school reading to do.  The drug still gave me shivers.  But
I could choose to either ignore them or did something exciting to trigger a
little rainbow spark.  It dawned on me that as intense and intimate the
time with Rose had been, we were still strangers.  As easily as she had
entered my life, she could be gone from it.  This city left a strange sense
of impermanence.  I had had dreams where I dreamt about buildings growing
under my eyes.  Everything seems to always be shifting here.

   Five minutes later, Rose and the men came back from behind the restroom.
He had a looseness to his gait like he was walking on a cloud.  He walked
back to his bench but only stood there looking over at us.  Rose was a
little bit rushing towards me.  She lead with her lips as if she was asking
me to kiss her.  As soon as our lips touched, her tongue rushed into my
mouth.  I felt her pushing saliva into my mouth like she was feeding me
like a baby bird.  Acrid!  Her saliva was very acrid.  There was a
bitterness to it.  It was definitely sour.  And there was a bit something
rotten like three days old sweaty gym clothes.  It was cum!

   "Swallow" she breathed into my mouth when her wet content had fully
unloaded into mine.

   It dawned on me.  She had given him a blowjob behind the restroom.  His
cock had been all over the insides of her mouth.  I had his semen mixed
with her saliva in my mouth.  Well, I swallowed because that's what I was
told.  I felt a bit disgusted.  I felt tricked.  I felt dirty.

   The father was so quickly next to me.  He handed me a clean fifty dollar
bill.  His face was in the forties.  There were so many furrows and
character lines on his face that seemed to say so much about him and how
much he had experienced.  "Thank you!  You are real cute!" he said and
left. I looked at his butt as he walked away.  It was so strange to have
his most intimate juices inside of me even though we were strangers.  It
was such a conflicting sensation.

   "He offered fifty bucks if we exchanged his cum.  Look!  He got me three
hundred dollars for five minutes of fun!" Rose said.

   I had never seen prostitution.  It seemed like a foreign concept on TV
or the newspapers for sad and abused women.  There was Rose.  She was
smiling.  It seemed so natural.  It seemed like a fun thing and a nice
reward.  I felt dirty about a man that old.  There were so many ambivalent
emotions swirling at me.  And Rose left me to jump the F train to rush to
her class.

   I walked home.  The constant noise of people and buzz of traffic around
me dropped into the background.  I had adopted to be deep in my head while
walking through the craziness, ignoring it all.  When I got home, I got my
textbook on my knees and started studying.  I had two chapters to catch up
on in addition to the newly assigned chapters.  I learned about leaf shapes
and the classifications of plants.

   All the while, I kept thinking about the man.  In the safety of my home,
I could examine what I had seen and felt from a secure distance.  I was a
little curious on what his dick looked like.  I was a little curious what
would such an experienced man be like.  Would he be coy?  Would he be
rough? I thought about his wife.  She was probably a blond pretty lady with
a hard body from working out and a fancy degree from a top university.  I
felt a bit jealous.  I felt angry that I would never have those things.  I
had been proud about getting my public education, but coming face to face
with how fancy and successful some people are, I got angry.  I pictured the
perfect make up on her face.  And then I pictured holding his dick in my
hands.  And he'd become all doe like to me.  He'd lose her interest in her.
That moment that I stole him from her, I felt like I was better.  I was the
prize!  I had never had such fantasies before.

   For some reason in the safety of my fantasy, I got turned on by all that
disgust, oldness, and cheap jealousy.  I felt myself getting a little wet
for the first time.  That reminded me that Rose had told me the drug kills
the libido.  She said that as good as all the thrills feel, they don't turn
on while being on the drug.  To really feel the turn on, you had to do
those things dry.  Then all the anxiety and dread feelings would grow into
a stew that would cause arousal.

   All these thoughts and visceral memories of emotions kept flooding in
while I was trying to memorize three and five pointed leaf shapes.  The
hunger of my pussy kept stealing my focus.  I sometimes got these moments
were I craved the release from my pussy.  And to a point of getting me to
do mildly dangerous things, that craving would keep pushing me.

   Outside, the time was around 9 pm.  A lot of daytime businesses had
closed.  Office workers had finished their commute.  The nighttime dwellers
had come out in their elegant dresses.  I picked up a night gown.  It was
black and had an elegant satiny sheen to it.  The fabric light and silken.
It easily moved with my body motions in a smooth watery way.  The top were
two spaghetti halters that went down to two black triangles that covered my
breast.  It looked sexy.  I would have plenty of opportunities to flash
body parts at will.  I threw a light, small black leather jacket over it. I
put on heels with only strings on top to let me feet be visible.  I had no
underwear.
   I scurried out of the house.