Subway Sex on the Number Six

On the way home from work yesterday I gave in to some freaky Subway Sex.

It had to happen eventually, I guess. Being that I'm single and, therefore, allowed to do it whenever and with whomever I want. Bush and Campbell can't say that, now can they? Ah yeah, bitches. AH YEAH.

So I was on the way home and decided I was hungry and that I needed a Subway Club. That shit is good. All the best meats (however "specific to Subway" they might taste, and whatever that means. I've grown accustomed). So I pulled into the Subway off of Powell, right past the Ross Island bridge, to go and get me some grub. Little did I know the only guy there behind the counter would be adorable and horny. Just like me.

"What'll ya have?" he beckoned.

Oh, goodness.

"Um...I guess a number six?" I answered.

"Good choice. Why don't you have a seat and I'll bring it out to you. It'll be on me."

I wasn't sure what he meant or what was going on. But I was okay with it, whatever it was.

"Don't you need to know what I want on it?" I asked.

"You want everything on it," he demanded.

With this statement, I shuddered and went and sat at a table in the corner, anxiously awaiting what might happen next.

A few moments later he delivered it to me. But as soon as he sat the Number Six down, he lifted me up and sat me down on the edge of the table, and then laid me down right over the top of it, where he delivered it to me again.

---- Right, so none of this actually happened. If you know me, you know I've been home sick for two days. Otherwise it's likely that it might have happened, given my tendency towards Subway sandwiches and Hot Guys in Uniform (apparently ANY uniform).

Mostly I wrote this for Bush and Campbell. To go ahead and live vicariously through.

Housewives dig this shit, right? That's what I hear.