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All this girlish babble is swirling around my head as I sit in this railway station, called Glasgow Queen Street.I am en-rout to Oban, on the west coast of Scotland, to visit an aunt over Christmas, and too all accounts, I hear there are only sheep up there, if that be true, then I need to meet a few rams, and bravely bare my bottom amongst the herd, and hope for a sturdy mounting.I hate my uniform, the badge of St Georges of Edinburgh, but today as I sit on this wooden bench my bum freezing, I enjoy the long dark blue woolen stockings I wear, cursing they only come above mid-thigh, my thin cotton knickers, though designed for men's pleasure to see them so adorned, do fuck-all for my warmth.I swear if I dont board the train soon, my warm lubricity will turn to icicles and pierce a mans balls should he try to force entry into me.I am cold and seek warmth, the station is desolate and dark, except for the few shops behind me, offering warmth and papers, food and drink, though I am too. But he was my cousins husband, and that was that. After they split up, I stayed friends with Dan. They still lived together, I saw him all the time and she didnt leave him for doing something wrong, she had just grown apart from him. When he was sober, he would tell me how much he loved her, and wanted her back, but when he was drinking, he would make sexual innuendos, one time even sucking a blueberry from my fingers. As much as it turned me on, I stayed away and didnt encourage the situation. I would sleep over from time to time, if I was hanging out with Michelle and drinking a little. The first few times, I was worried, and almost hoping, that he would come downstairs when everyone was sleeping, but that never happened. Then one night, I was at Michelles, and we were all drinking. I got pretty drunk, and Michelle took my keys, saying that I was sleeping there that night. Nothing out of the norm. We proceeded to get rip roaring drunk, and Michelle went upstairs to her room and.
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