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I knew her every move. I knew when she got up, when she went to bed. If she was late coming or going, I could feel my pulse began to race, my palms would sweat, and my heart began to pound in my chest until I saw her. When I fucked my woman Christine, I saw her in my head. It got so bad that I couldn’t get a hard on unless I could imagine my cock sliding in and out of her tight pussy. It had been a long time since I obsessed over anything. I’ll admit that I am prone to obsessive behavior, hell it’s the reason I became a biker. Saw a bunch of Hell’s Angels roaring down the street. I was just five years old and we lived in Oakland, CA back then. From that moment on it was all that I ever wanted to be was a biker. Hooked up with the Devil Dogs when I was twenty-two years old, that was ten years ago, not one moment of regret yet. I’m not crazy, I’m not a nice guy either, though I wont fuck with you unless you fuck with me. I don’t do fags, and I ain't some pedophile, it was her, that. Obviously these two were gay, I could not help but think what a waste of prime cock meat.Suddenly the train lurched forward and my stomach did summersaults, these bloody balls were going to be the death of me as I let a low moan escape my lips. I looked around and hoped no one had heard my lustful moan; no such luck though as a man around mid forties leaned forward and asked if I was ok. I muttered my apology and excused it as travelling by train always had this effect upon me, must be the motion of the train I suggested. (If only he knew, the real reason, why the motion had such an effect upon me.)Suddenly he was sat in the spare seat beside me and taking my hand he attempted to calm me. Calm me my foot, for as he rose to move to my side I saw the semi hard shape of his cock clearly defined in his pants. I wanted so much to reach out and stroke it, I suppose the sight of my erect nipples on my unfettered tits had caused his discomfort in the trouser department but he seemed.
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Me?" gasped out Victor. He had pulled himself up a bit and was staring at me."I keep telling you, Vic. Aversion therapy. You can't do anything in anger now to anyone. It'll make you really sick whenever you try." You fucker! You..." He winced. "I didn't do anything!" Save it, Victor. Please." This won't last, you know. When I get my hands on ... on ... you know, on the thing..." he stopped talking, a growing look of puzzlement on his face. "Goddamnit," he spit out, "The thing that does the thing!" Which thing?" I asked innocently."The thing with the ... the ... the stuff!" he said. "The ... the stuff!!" Oh, that thing," I said. "Yeah, you can't remember that. You can't remember where it is, or how it works, or the last four or five crucial insights that let you take control of it." I paused. "You can't even remember what it does, exactly."I knelt down to look at him. "You can't even remember what it does. All you can remember is that you used it and it helped you. And now you can't.

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