Hey, big boy. I saw what you just did right here on this crowded train. No need to turn away. I liked it. Yeah, that’s right I like what you just did, you filthy little man-pig. Hock another one of those sweet loogies onto the floor of this train. Come on, do it!

The way you just brazenly cocked your head back and hacked up that sweet load right there by that older woman’s loafer on the train floor? It does something to a girl. That guttural hheckth you growled was insatiable. Let’s go to Rome.

When you locked eyes with me as your body contorted in preparation for prime hocking, did you also feel that lump in the back of your throat? Not the one from the impressive thick coat you were about to deliver… but maybe a lump of love… for me?

Ah, look at me. I’m talking crazy. I know once we get off of this crowded train our paths will divert and I’ll just be another woman wandering the phlegm covered streets alone. But what the hell, I’ll just go ahead and say it: size and consistency MATTER. And baby, do your loogs got it. I want to wear that thick, opaque loogie like a glove. Do you want kids?

Ugh! How do you expect me to get any work done today? You drive me WILD with lust! I could watch you hock sweet loogies all over the damn place! Outside of Nordstrom Rack, mid-conversation, in my grandma’s kitchen, on Planet Fitness’ inside basketball court, even right here again on this very train car. JUST HOCK ANOTHER BIG BOY!

I’m sorry. I am so sorry I am coming at you like this in this cramped train car. It’s just… I mean, you looked me dead in the eyes as you catapulted that brownish goop from your throat. Don’t make this nasty baby — this is just natural pure lust. How could I ever resist the raw masculinity you gave off when you spat that wad here in this contained space?

Now, now, now. I can hear all the men in my life saying, “We don’t hock up these sweet loogs for you! We do it for OURSELVES.” And to that I say, if you didn’t want me to ogle, you wouldn’t do it in public. You looked me right in the eyes after all. You knew what you were stirring inside of me.

I envision you and me, basking under the Tuscan sun while our two children, Timothy and Cassandra, frolic in our vineyard. You pull me in close. I feel the heat from your thick breath against my neck. The back of your throat lets out a growl as you hock up a sexy, Chianti-stained loogie. My knees go weak and our children witness true love.

JUST GIVE ME ONE MORE HOT LOOGIE BEFORE THE — oh, damnit. This is my stop.

Until next time. Big boy.