You’re sitting in my usual seat on the 6:23am train I take to work. Your deep-set eyes are closed and your thick, strong hands are resting in your lap. Your head is leaning against the wall that is encapsulating us for the duration of our commute. I admire your distinct jaw and the dark stubble that covers it as I take the seat next to you.
“Hi.” I offer as I pull my purse on to my lap noticing you turning to look at me. The sleeves of our puffy coats are smashed together due to the tight proximity at which we’re seated. No one likes these seats, the ones that are sideways and face the windows. It feels unnatural to sway from side to side with the train’s every movement instead of just facing forward.
You nod a hello, offering a sliver of chocolate brown eyes before closing them and leaning back again. I steal an extra glance at you, admiring your profile, your full lips that are now slightly parted. My mind dances around the idea of slipping my tongue between those lips. I imagine tasting coffee on your breath, and smelling soap on your skin. Desire mixed with nervous elation swims around in my belly. I find myself more awake than I was a few minutes ago.
The train slams on its brakes nearly sending us out of our seats. Your body is shoved against mine with the force of coming to an abrupt stop.
“Sorry.” you say, eyes wide with surprise at being woken up.
“’S ok.” I smile mischievously, holding your gaze for a second too long.
You smile back, picking up on my flirting before closing your eyes, leaning back as the train starts moving again
Even though we’ve straightened ourselves, your leg is touching mine now, rubbing against it with the motion of the train. My hand moves close to you, wondering what would happen if I touched your thigh.
My heart pounds with nervous anticipation. I stare outside so as not to be conspicuous as my hand moves over to the edge of my thigh, the last two fingers touching your leg now.
Snow swirls around the train car outside and I try to focus on its erratic movement, while attempting to keep my breath steady. I raise my pinky so it’s on your leg. This catches your attention. I keep facing forward, watching the snow but I can see you turning to see if I’m meaning to do this. When I don’t emote anything, you face forward again but move your hand moves toward mine until the backs of our fingers are touching.
My face and chest flush pink. I’m curious as to how far we can take this. I put my entire hand on your leg and you match this gesture, both of us hiding simultaneous grins. Your palm slides over my inner thigh, under my skirt, and between my legs. I chew on the inside of my cheek, silencing the urge to gasp. The warmth of your hand heats up my skin as I part my knees while centering my purse over my lap concealing your hand.
I slouch, hips pushing forward, offering full access to my dampening slit. Your hand presses between my legs, fingers lightly pushing against me as I struggle to keep my breath even. You cross your ankle over your knee so your foot is facing away from my legs. This movement makes room for my hand as I ease it up your thigh and under the hem of your coat. I stop when my pinky reaches the crease where your leg meets your hip. I think about whether or not you’re going to let me take your cock out and stroke it. I wonder how fast I can make you come.
I don’t have much time. My stop is coming up soon and I also want to come. I place my hand on the rigidity straining against your jeans. It’s your turn to hide your surprise as my hand grips you through the fabric, squeezing your thick base, and working my way to the tip before I unbutton and unzip your jeans.
You slip your hand inside my sweater tights, fingers pushing between my dripping pussy lips. You pause there, teasing, allowing me to feel the heat of your hand on my skin. I push my hand into your jeans, excited to get at you. I pull your cock out, careful to keep it concealed under your coat. I stroke it using my wrist instead of my forearm in an effort to be discreet.
Smooth ribbons of pleasure snake through my swollen cunt, and down my legs as you work on me. I tilt my hips up to meet your fingers every time you press them against my clit. I imagine you, deep inside me thrusting hard against my body. I want to be taken, rocked, and fucked.
People are filing on and off the train at every stop. No one even glances in our direction. I take the opportunity to buck my hips against your hand a little more. I move my hand up from your base, exploring your length feeling the ridge where the head meets the shaft rub against my fingers. A drop of pre-cum emerges from the tip and I rub it into your skin with my thumb, swirling it around the underside of your cock’s head. I hear you exhale and notice your eyes closing briefly before taking a deep breath.
Your fingers push inside my pussy sending me into a frenzy. My stop is approaching. I have to come, I need to come. I hold the image of your cock buried deep inside me as the rising of an orgasm threads its way through my cunt, the muscles of my ass and belly tightening. I no longer care I’m getting off in public with you. I will never meet you for coffee. We will never take long walks through the snow or share pints of beer at the dive bar down the street from my apartment. All that matters are your fingers sliding in and out of me, your palm pushing against my clit, the jolt of pressure releasing into a burst of exclamation that I can’t audibly emit. My body shudders beneath the pressure of your fingers before I settle for a moment and take in a long drink of air. My hand is still wrapped around your cock. When I’ve got my bearings I see that the doors are open. This is my stop. My fingers release your cock and stand, a little lightheaded, and walk out the door.