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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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I blinked to try and adjust my gaze from the bright London morning to the gloom of the underground station as I carefully negotiated the stairs downwards. I was finally on my way home at 8:30am after my friend had dragged me from one nightclub to another and eventually to a house party that may or may not have been thrown by someone who knew someone who knew Daniel Craig. She had disappeared into a bedroom with a guy who definitely wasn’t James Bond so I managed to free myself from his octopus-armed friend and get the hell out of there. All I wanted to do was get on the tube, get home and get a shower. Oh God I wanted a shower! I was at that uncomfortable stage where I had drank too much alcohol to be sober and yet not enough to be properly d*unk and I felt awkward and out of place amongst the throngs of fresh, perfectly polished women on their way to work. I tucked my long, heavily highlighted blonde hair behind my ears and used the pad of my thumb to wipe away yesterday’s mascara from under my tired blue eyes.
The tube train pulled into the station and as I waited for the doors to open I self-consciously adjusted my sheer black lace-topped hold-ups and tugged my black leather skirt down to cover the pale skin that flashed above them. A couple of the ‘tailored suit and briefcase’ ladies waiting beside me were staring at me as if I had no business even being there amongst them, which pissed me off so much that I stood up straight, thrust my chest forwards and let my skirt ride up a little to show off what I’d been trying to hide just a moment ago. Fuck them. Just because I worked in a shop and not some fancy high-rise office didn’t mean I wasn’t as good as them. I didn’t realise I was smiling to myself until I caught sight of someone on the train smiling back at me. I squeaked and turned my head away, blushing a hot red. After a moment I decided to risk just one glance at him and saw to my relief that he was looking in the other direction.
As the crowds departed the train I took the chance to check him out a little. At first glance he just seemed like a typical suit on his way to work, completely not my type at all. A lot older than my 20 years, probably 35 or so, but still attractive. Although yeah, definitely not my type. I preferred musicians, younger and a little less ‘clean cut’. Certainly not the type to wear suits and work in the city. The guy was probably some big shot banker or a lawyer or something. Although I couldn’t deny he had something about him: brown hair combed neatly, chiselled features and eyes so dark I imagined a person could lose themselves forever in them. And his lips…
Realising I was openly staring now, I forced myself to blink and look away, feeling a fresh blush rising in my cheeks.
I was steeling myself for another look when the crowds started to board and I was surged forwards with them onto the train with little control of where I was going. I was pushed, pulled and squashed by the multitude of bodies trying to squeeze into a metal tube not quite big enough to hold them all. With the moving tide of people in control I only came to a stop by colliding face-first into a crisp white shirt. My first thought was ouch as my nose smarted and my eyes watered slightly — my second was to just how good the man I was squished against smelled. I inhaled deeply, taking in the tangy spiciness of the tanned skin sharply contrasting against the white collar. He felt solid, warm. Fit but not too muscular. Nice.
It took me a few seconds of bliss before I realised I had probably invaded this poor guy’s space enough. I tried to take a step backwards and after a bit of pushing and jostling I just about managed it, allowing the mystery man’s torso to come into view. Along with the white shirt he was dressed in what appeared to be an expensive black silk suit with a dark purple tie held in place with a silver tie pin. Not short of money then. My gaze continued upward towards his face. Oh shit! It was the businessman who had smiled at me through the window. Except he wasn’t smiling now. He was looking down at me with an unmistakable air of curiosity and, I realised with a small gasp, unashamed lust.
Embarrassed and flustered, I pretended to myself that I was uncomfortable with him looking at me like that, especially with our bodies so close together in such a tight, hot space. Except I really wasn’t. Although I knew that the sensible course of action would be to ignore him, I couldn’t seem to stop myself glancing up at him through my lashes. He was still staring, those mesmerising brown eyes sweeping appreciatively across the curve of my shoulder and my décolletage. Well, if he was going to be so blatant about it then so was I. I raised my head and defiantly stared back at him, which he seemed to like given the twitch I felt against my thigh. Despite myself I felt my belly flood with a tingling heat that quickly spread to my pussy, which immediately demanded attention. I squirmed and squeezed my thighs together, trying to get a little friction there to ease the sudden desire I had to reach between my legs and press my fingers against my clit. The son of a bitch smirked as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
I glanced down at his left hand: no wedding ring. Of course that didn’t mean that he wasn’t taken, but it made me feel a little less of a tart and gave me the confidence to try and fulfil an urge that I’d harboured for years. A shameful little secret that had lurked in the back of my mind since I’d read about it in a novel as an impressionable young teenager and had starred in many of my masturbatory fantasies since.
I took a deep breath to steady myself, still not quite believing I was actually going to do this. I put on what I hoped was my best seductive smile and reached out to run my hand up his leg, stopping at mid-thigh to gauge his reaction. He jumped a little at the first touch but never broke eye contact with me, his mouth forming a surprised ‘O’. To confirm I meant business, I ran my tongue slowly over my red painted lips and continued my journey up his thigh until I reached his crotch. I was thrilled to find that his cock was already semi-erect and getting harder by the second. I traced the outline of it through his trousers with my fingertips, impressed by the weight and thickness. I imagined what it looked like under his clothes; the firm, veiny flesh throbbing and hard for me. I wondered what it would feel like to open myself up for him, to climb on and slide my wanting pussy all the way down to the hilt, to coat him in my juices and squash his balls with my ass as I bounced up and down on him.
My own arousal grew and warm wetness seeped into my underwear; I couldn’t stop myself letting out a soft groan. This seemed to shake him out of his initial shock and with a low growl he grabbed my hand. For a second I was terrified that he was going to ask me what the hell I was doing, or tell the whole carriage that I was assaulting him. Instead he held me by the wrist for a moment as his eyes searched mine, his breathing heavy, lips parted. Then he nodded and gently guided my hand back towards his now fully erect cock. He pressed the flat of my hand against the rigid shaft and moved it rhythmically up and down until I knew I was stroking it how he liked it — or at least the best I could through two layers of fabric. I could still feel the wonderful heat emanating from him though, and I could just about map the thick vein on the underside of his cock. His eyes fluttered closed and he bit his lip, soft moans escaping as he melted against me. His hand dropped from mine and found a new place on my ass, snaking under the leather of my skirt and kneading the firm flesh beneath. I shuddered as his fingers dug into my skin to an almost painful level, but it just served to turn me on even more. I tried to grind myself into his hand, to make it slip between my cheeks just a little.
Somebody coughed and suddenly we were reminded of our very public surroundings. We both stilled, barely daring to breathe. I could see him scanning the carriage worriedly – was somebody watching us? If they were, did I even care? In fact, the thought of someone spying on us, perhaps even furtively trying to wank themselves off as they did so, was a major turn on. I let a small giggle escape and resumed the steady rhythm on his hardness. My handsome stranger soon got the hint and slid his hand off my ass with one final squeeze and started to move it between my legs.
I struggled against the pressure of the crowd to adjust my stance, opening my legs a little more to allow him better access. My skirt stretched uncomfortably so I wriggled it up as high around my thighs as I could manage, knowing that should the carriage empty unexpectedly at any of the following stops it would reveal at the very least the curve of my ass to the world. Thankfully my crotch would be hidden by his body, although we would no longer have the excuse to need to stand so close together. It was an embarrassment we were willing to risk, there was no going back now.
He ran his finger along the inside of my thigh, skimming the lacy tops of my hold-ups as he worked upwards in a gentle swirling pattern. I trembled and let out a low moan as his warm hand caressed my bare inner thigh. I could feel his cock straining against its prison of expensive black silk as if searching me out. I wished so much that I could move just enough to be able to unzip his trousers and reach my hand in to grasp that enticing thickness and pump it hard and fast, even fantasised about sliding my body down and taking the fat bulb into my mouth and swallowing it as far as I could take it. But because of my positioning, all I could do was hold him through the fabric and rub the shaft, massaging the cockhead with every stroke. Given how hard and thick he had grown in my hand it seemed to be working well enough.
He stared down at me, silent, commanding, in control. The liquid lust in his brown eyes and the tremble of his hand betrayed him though, and I knew he was in over his head just as much as I was.
I could feel the muscles of my abdomen clenching involuntarily as he caressed the entire length of my thigh before finally moving up towards my pussy, stopping to rub gently along the smooth, freshly waxed area of exposed skin where my thong panties had slipped into the crevice between my lips. He teased the lace even further aside until it was neatly tucked into the crease of my inner thigh, exposing me completely to his will. I knew he must have felt how damp they were and I flushed with both shame and arousal at my wicked behaviour. I let him know that I was keen to continue by rolling his heavy balls in my hand before I went back to lavishing my attention on his cock. It pulsed under my fingers in response.
I dared to glance up at him, our eyes locking as he played two fingers back and forth along my outer labia as if revelling in the slickness there. I squirmed against him, biting back a moan as he finally pushed one finger between the lips to search for my most secret place. My clit was swollen and desperate, my pussy aching to be filled. I whimpered as he probed my tight hole for a moment, collecting my juices on his finger before he moved to the throbbing little bud above, stroking the delicate hood a few times in a delicious torture before he finally made a brief contact with the place I ached for him to touch. My legs buckled, only the pressure of the crowd around me kept me standing. He smiled that sinful smile again and pressed his fingers to my tingling clit once more. This time he didn’t remove them but instead began to massage me, tracing circles around the luscious little bundle of nerves, often dipping the tips of his fingers into my soaking pussy for extra lubrication.
Around us I was vaguely aware of the train stopping and starting, of people getting off and on, although the crowd around us never seemed to thin out. Hopefully they were all travelling as far as we were – I didn’t want this to end. I rubbed his cock a little faster, my strokes more erratic due to being lost in my own arousal. My hand slipped on one stroke and I missed rubbing the shaft properly. He shook his head in mock anger at me and obviously decided to ‘teach me a lesson’ because his fingers immediately disappeared from my clit. I was just about to protest when I felt them press against my hole and with one swift movement he had penetrated me. I was being finger-fucked by a stranger. And oh shit it was so fucking hot. My pussy had to stretch to accommodate both fingers and the heat and fullness inside me felt so good. He experimented with positions until he could slide his fingers in and out and still rub my clitoris with the palm of his hand, then he began to slowly and expertly tease me.
I was sure that everyone in the carriage must be able to hear the sticky, squelching noises his fingers were making. God, I was so wet and he knew he was making me crazy. Well, if he could tease me then I could tease him! I leaned forwards and pushed my breasts together, displacing the moulded cups of my black satin basque just enough to pop them forward ever so slightly, exposing my stiffening nipples to anyone viewing from directly above. I didn’t have to ask had he noticed — the sharp intake of breath and the shudder from his cock was enough. Within seconds I felt a damp heat at my fingers. Not his orgasm, but a pretty nice showing of precum oozing into the silk. I knew he was close and that it would take very little to push him over the edge — but not until I had my fun first.
I clenched my deepest muscles, clamping myself around his fingers. He took the hint and began to move them a little quicker, scissoring them each time he pulled out to stretch me as much as he could. The delicious burn of it made me moan a little too loudly and I hoped the sound was masked by the rumble of the train — I certainly didn’t want him to stop. With every thrust his palm massaged my slick, engorged bud, driving me closer and closer to climax.
The sweet knot of pleasure tightened low in my stomach. My eyes were closed and I was muttering blasphemies under my breath, knowing that at this rate I’d be cumming soon. My whole body felt alive and thrumming with energy. I imagined that anyone watching me would see me surrounded in a bright light because I felt as if I was burning white-hot from within. I was so close…
I grabbed on to the handrail with my free hand for support, trying to keep my rhythm up on his cock but I soon realised that it was going to be impossible while I was lost in my orgasm. I buried my head in his chest, biting my lip to stop myself from crying out as his fingers worked to drive me over the edge. My clit pulsed, sending hot waves of bliss radiating from deep inside my pussy and through my entire body. I shuddered, my muscles contracting as the blistering orgasm raced through me. My mouth opened in a silent scream against the lapel of his jacket before I collapsed loosely against him, completely spent and panting heavily. Jesus.
It took me a few seconds before I remembered the needy cock still lying heavy in my hand.
Even though I felt weak and dizzy from my glorious orgasm I was determined to make him feel as good as I did. I regained my firm grip on his cock through the slippery fabric and began to pump him hard and fast, my hand a blur as I worked him towards that heavenly moment. He leaned forward, nestling his head into the curve of my neck. I shivered as his warm breath hit my skin, coming in desperate little huffs peppered with low moans. His heart was pounding against my ribs, his muscles twitching and stiffening as he braced himself against me. He was close.
I switched up my strokes to include rubbing my thumb over his damp cockhead with every sweep upward, making sure to massage the most sensitive skin just beneath. The low moans became grunts and I felt him grow unbelievably hard like granite and begin to pulse in my hand. I quickly moved my hand to the tip of his cock to feel the material start to soak through with spurts of hot cum. He sucked on the side of my neck as he came, perhaps frightened of making too much noise if his mouth wasn’t otherwise engaged. My pussy moistened with fresh arousal, not only at his orgasm but at the thought of him having to work in cum-stained trousers and underwear for the rest of the day. Every time he looked down he’d think of me and what we had done.
Finally we began to come down from the heights of our orgasms and tried to make ourselves decent. I fixed my basque and adjusted my thong, making sure I was completely covered. They were still damp but there wasn’t much I could do about that. At least I could throw them off and jump in the shower soon. My playmate tried to brush down his trousers, grimacing a little at the mess he’d made. That I’d made. I felt strangely pleased with myself.
What was the usual etiquette after you’ve just had sex with a stranger on a train? Did I say hi, introduce myself? Did I ignore him for the rest of the journey? I realised they never fucking told you about this bit in stories or in porn! I looked up at him awkwardly. He smiled and reached his clean hand out to run it through my hair before leaning forward as if to kiss me. Just then the train shuddered to a stop. I looked up at the station and groaned.
“My stop,” I said shakily, wishing it wasn’t.
“Oh… OK, of course. Sure,” he replied, looking a little disappointed himself. His voice wasn’t as upper-class as I’d imagined, but was deep and rich. Very sexy.
It occurred to me that this was our first spoken exchange despite what we’d just done. I wondered what he thought about how I sounded. With great regret I pushed my way through the remaining passengers and exited the train. As I stepped on to the station platform and heard the doors close behind me I stopped to look back at the carriage, feeling a little disbelief. Did that really just happen? Then I noticed my stranger watching me though the window with a mischievous smile on his face. As the train began to pull away he slid the two fingers he was using on me, still shiny with my juices, into his mouth and sucked on them suggestively. Immediately my pussy twitched and my clit tingled with the urge to be touched again.
Stupid sexy bastard. Just so not my type. |
