Rush Hour

It was already dusk as she walked into the train station, shivering in the late autumn chill. She was always cold lately. Her feet hurt and her brain felt soft enough to seep through her ears. As she looked for her card in her bag, a young man in an Army jacket bumped into her. The intense heat of his palm on her hip made her nipples hard. He looked at her, pale eyes half-lidded, languorous. Although her brain moved slowly, her body reacted fast.

She stepped into the train and held on to a pole in the middle of the aisle. She kept her bag close to her chest and adopted the wall-eyed, not-quite-there look of seasoned rush hour travelers. Someone breathed warm mint gum breath on the back of her neck. A man’s slim flank rubbed against her hip, stirring the memory of what had happened before. She exhaled tellingly enough to make the man behind her give her a questioning look. She pointedly ignored him.

Halfway home

Warmth crawled up the slit at the back of her skirt. Sweat made the tender flesh underneath her breasts wet. When she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, her thighs were slippery. The intense hit of her own musk made her self-conscious.  She looked for the source of  her discomfort and saw him again, sitting on the edge of his seat, elbows on knees. His gaze moved from her naked ankles to the tiny mole at the back of her knee. He licked his lips as they moved further up, his hazel eyes glittering feverishly. It was getting hard to breathe in the heat.

Five stops out

The train was almost empty but he had not moved. The atmosphere was too bright, cloyingly hot. She was dizzy. She sat far from him, but she still had to force her knees together. She heard  a rustle and smelled clean sweat and pheromones. He made a sound, a soft grunt, to get her attention. Her lip twitched instinctively. Her belly muscles burned with tension.

One stop out

Pebbles cut into the flesh of her knees as she slowly licked the sweat from between his legs in a dark corner. His hand turned to a fist in her hair when she finally licked up the shaft of his cock. Her tongue was just as languid on the silky skin of his balls. The slippery tip of his cock seared her lips but she still licked and sucked, licked and sucked, taking her time. Soon, he would return the favor and sear the imprint of his lips into the insides of her thighs.  He’d fuck the cold right out of her and leave her giving off heat like a quartz rod.

There was no hurry.

Latest Comments

  1. vanillamom says:

    oh.

    *hand between breasts*

    my

    *other hand fanning flaming cheeks*

    gawd

    *shifts in seat, changing pressure points on suddenly warm and damp flesh*

  2. paul1510 says:

    Ximena
    for most of my working life, I used the Tube in London, that’s what we called the underground train system.
    I recall many such daydreams, they never ended like that!
    I hope that I didn’t make the objects of my dreams that uncomfortable.
    I love it when your tales bring back memories of my youth.
    Warm hugs,
    Paul

    • ximenawrites says:

      I recall many such daydreams, they never ended like that!
      I hope that I didn’t make the objects of my dreams that uncomfortable.

      She was uncomfortable, but only because of the very strong lust he caused her to feel… after all, there are bold men everywhere and we learn to ignore them early.

      What she eventually realized is her attitude called to him – he was just what she needed, and he knew it.

  3. Anonymous says:

    If only commuting was really like this. Thank you for a lovely story…. there really is no hurry is there ;)

  4. Paul Weimer (@princejvstin) says:

    I found the use of stone adjectives interesting in the last paragraph Pebbles. Quartz rod.

    • ximenawrites says:

      I didn’t do it on purpose, but it makes sense, right?

      The Metro is underground… earth, dirt, pebbles, quartz, ha!

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