I love my tape player and I take it with me just about everywhere I go. They’re really great. Put on the earphones, pop in a cassette, press the PLAY button, adjust the volume, close your eyes and presto! you’re in another world.

Every morning before leaving my apartment for work, I toss a couple of soft-rock tapes into my pocketbook for the subway ride into Manhattan. It’s as much a part of my weekday morning routine as brushing my teeth and combing my hair. I don’t think I could cope with the stupid New York City subway system without my tapes.

Well, on this particular day, I overslept and then had to race around getting ready. The last thing I did before dashing out the door was grab a tape and toss it into my handbag. I didn’t know what I had and I didn’t care. I was late for work.

Once in a subway car, I settled into a seat with an exhausted sigh and then automatically pulled the tape from my handbag. Without even looking at the label, I inserted it in the player. With the earphones in place, I pressed the PLAY button and turned up the volume.

At first I couldn’t hear anything, and then, just as I started wondering if there was something wrong with the cassette, I heard a faint moan, then a whimper, then a second moan, this one louder than the first. Weird. I turned up the volume and seconds later heard a woman sigh with pleasure. What the hell was going on? And then I heard “Oh, baby, don’t stop. Yeah, that’s it … right there.” It was my voice! “God, babe, you taste so good … mmmmmm.” And that was Barry’s voice!

The image of my boyfriend eating me in bed flashed across my mind and I immediately opened my eyes, afraid that those passengers around me could see into my head. I realized, happily, that they were either engrossed in their newspapers, sleeping or staring off into space. Swallowing hard, I closed my eyes again and started sorting it all out.

Barry and I had last been together four days earlier, on a Saturday night. After a movie and a bite to eat, we’d gone back to my apartment and, as usual, fucked our brains out. He’d left about midnight and, now that I thought of it, with a funny look on his face. No wonder. He had taped our lovemaking session that night and left it in the apartment, knowing that sooner or later I’d find it — and play it!

On the tape I moaned real loud. I winced and immediately lowered the volume. I heard Barry say, “You’re pussy is just dripping, babe. I’m gonna lick you all up.” And what had I said in response: “Oh, God, I love your hot tongue.” Yes, that’s what I had said, all right. I remembered how I’d lain squirming on my bed as down below, curled between my legs, my boyfriend mashed his face into my steaming pussy.

I wondered if Barry had put a label on the cassette, and if he had, what it said. In my hurry that morning, I had just scooped up the first tape I saw, not even bothering to look at it. I thought about stopping the tape and taking it out, but decided against it. The man next to me was reading a paperback, and for sure his eyes would wander over to the cassette should I take it out, and he’d find scrawled on the label something like “A Fabulous Fuck” or “Banging Brenda.” Just two of the titles I wouldn’t have been surprised to see, knowing the wicked pleasure Barry derives from making me blush.

As I continued listening to the tape, my initial shock dissolved into arousal, which, I knew, was what my boyfriend had intended. I was more relaxed now, convinced that no one knew what was going on, and with my eyes closed, my head tilted back against the wall of the subway car, I felt my pussy juices oozing into my underpants.

” … take it all, babe,” my boyfriend was saying. “Suck it for me.” Our roles were reversed, and now I was pleasuring Barry with my mouth and tongue. As he continued to urge me on, I remembered how I had been crouched between his legs, one hand cupping his balls and two fingers of the other pinching one of his nipples as my head bobbed rhythmically over his rigid cock.

I squirmed in my seat, hoping like mad that I wasn’t being obvious. The tape was remarkably clear, and what with all the slurping and sucking sounds, I could almost taste my boyfriend’s cock. In my mind’s eye, I saw the look of pure delight on his handsome face when I took all of him down my throat.

Thanks to this tape, I was reliving the moment and getting wetter and hotter with each passing minute. In my mind I fast-forwarded to when Barry and I were actually fucking, and I tried to remember exactly what it was we had said to each other in the heat of our passion. But not to worry. Barry would soon be fucking me all over again, on this tape, and every word of lust would be like a long-delayed echo. I was even getting impatient, eager for the moment when my boyfriend urged me onto my back on the bed. What had he said then?

“…now I’m gonna fuck you to heaven, babe.” Yes, that’s what he had said, all right. “Oh, God, do me, honey. Put it in and fuck me hard.” And that, of course, had been my response, my voice charged with the almost painful desire for the feel of Barry’s big, beautiful cock thrusting in my soaked pussy.

Soaked pussy? It was soaked at that very moment, I realized, squeezing my legs together. I had to choke back a moan as I listened to Barry penetrate me and heard my answering moan of gratitude. My face felt hot, and I wondered if I was blushing. Should I open my eyes and see if anyone was watching me? Better not, I told myself. Why let the real world enter my nice little cocoon?

I have always been vocal in bed, uninhibitedly giving voice to my pleasure. And as I listened to myself talk dirty to Barry and heard again his response, I smiled inwardly at the realization that I was indeed a “great fuck,” a compliment I had received from more than a few boyfriends.

“Fuck me, baby, fuck me,” I heard myself say on the tape.

“I love your hot, tight pussy,” my boyfriend growled.

“Go deep!” I pleaded passionately. “Harder!”

It was at that point, I remembered, that Barry paused to throw my legs up over his shoulders and then surged forward, bending me almost double as he resumed pounding his cock into my heated flesh. My cries of delight grew even louder — so loud that I instinctively went for the volume button on the player — and then I heard Barry say he was coming.

“Give it to me!” I whined, seeing my face twist with pleasure as, a moment later, with my boyfriend’s semen shooting into me, I came with an otherworldly shriek.

My breathing was uneven as I listened to the end of the tape: Barry and I talking softly as we cuddled in the aftermath of one of our best love-making sessions. I pressed the STOP button and, almost fearfully, opened my eyes. To my great relief, I saw that no one was paying attention to me. To my despair, I realized that I had ridden right past my stop. Throwing the naughty tape in my handbag, I rose from my seat and got off at the next stop, where I took a train back to my station. Once in the office, as soon as I was at my desk, I phoned my boyfriend at work.

“You’re crazy,” I said, laughter in my voice. “Was that tape on my night table all the time?”

“So you found it, huh? What did you think, babe?”

Lowering my voice to a whisper, I said, “I think I’m going to have to go jerk off in the ladies’ room — that’s how hot your tape made me.”

“Is your pussy all nice and hot?”

I started to answer, then realized what he was up to. “Oh, no, you don’t. Not over the phone, too.”

Well, that was about two months ago and we now have four tapes of us making love. Wild? I’ll say. The most recent tape is of Barry fucking me in the ass for the first time. I listened to it yesterday afternoon in the supermarket and got so turned on that I had to cut my shopping short and go to my car and masturbate. I was able to time my orgasm to coincide with Barry’s on the tape, and the mental picture of him spilling his hot cream into my upturned bottom made me come that much harder. I was a wreck.

Lately, Barry’s been talking about getting some video equipment. I’ve already told him that I can’t see myself doing it in front of a camera. But the truth is, the more I think about it, the better it sounds.