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There were many things on my morning commute that drew my attention away from the daily crossword puzzle I always tried so desperately hard to complete throughout my day. Perhaps I had an attention disorder, or more likely, I had chosen the wrong city to plant my roots if I wanted serene journeys. Nevertheless, I appreciated the banter and antics of fellow passengers.
The doors opened to a variety of things to look at: precious dogs who smiled at everyone, fashionistas trying out the latest trends fearlessly, groups of teens bantering and cackling at each other’s jokes. We all fell into our own routines, with me dragging myself to work Mondays through Fridays, off to one of the most bustling neighborhoods for offices. I watched as the older business man would fall asleep, only waking right at the moment his stop was announced. The pretty girl with the purple backpack had a new book every week, and I researched what they were about. A loud-mouthed skater boy who never had headphones when playing loud music. There was no such thing as privacy when so close to others, sometimes sitting thigh-to-thigh on the bench. Before I moved here, I did not understand how strangers would wave away bodily contact in favor of having a place to sit. I quickly learned; the city wears hard on the feet, especially when you wore heels like I did.
I was wearing a particularly high pair of heels the when I saw a stranger I wanted to know as a friend. Fall mornings were quickly turning chilly, so I wore a tight, v-necked wool sweater dress with my tights, and of course, my favorite heeled boots, leather with 4 inches of platform. At my boring office job, I could only find some excitement in amping up my appearance to impress clients. If I got some looks on the train, well, that was usually an appreciated treat, if they remained respectful. I was scanning faces worn by the sleepy travelers when my eyes locked with a man standing across from me.
He was bright eyed behind a pair of glasses, with a clear, freshly shaved face. Light brown curls framed his face, making him look youthful, despite him obviously being in his late 20’s or early 30’s. He was adorable, undeniably approachable with his patterned sweater over a collared shirt. His maroon chinos fit too short on his long, lanky legs, stopping above the ankle.
I held my gaze for too long as a flush traveled from my chest to cheeks. As the stops flew by, I kept tabs on the handsome stranger, drooling over his long fingers that held his phone. He must’ve been reading something, deeply entranced and swiping from page to page. What was he reading? I wished he held the book in his hands instead. Some validation, I guess, to justify my immediate obsession with this random man. He could be anyone, perhaps someone whose personality would otherwise disgust me. What if I didn’t want to know who he was? What if I just wanted to appreciate how, in the morning light, his eyes shone a brilliant forest green. I wanted to drown in the superficial? I found myself hoping he’d look up again, perhaps telepathically determine if the same thoughts flew around in his head.
No such luck. My stop approached, and I glanced one final time to the stranger. He was already walking in front of me, getting off too. He turned his head, catching my gaze again. I thought I saw him smile at me. Was it flirtation? I was too flustered to assume anything, I lost him in the crowd on the platform. My breaths were quick, and my body flooded with warmth from my feet to my ears, concentrating most in my lower body. I hadn’t felt like this in ages, the feral urge to run after him and pull him into the most private place I could find. I wanted to devour him; he was too cute to not have some hidden, disgusting sexuality. I had to be careful with my projection, my fantasizing. Was I really so love-starved that I would dream up a casual encounter with someone that smiled at me? That could be the case.
Regardless, I still had the curse of my office job and repressing all of my frantic responses to daydreams I couldn’t control. Where was he now? He didn’t seem dressed like a banker or real estate agent. Maybe a professional creative? Developer? Non-profit? What made him tick? There wasn’t any task or conversation that could draw my attention away from thinking about how I should’ve gotten up on the train and stood next to him, asking him if I could put my arm around his back, squeeze his ass and make him have to hide a hard-on before he could comfortably carry on with his day. I needed church, a confession. These thoughts felt presumptuous and scandalous. I was essentially wishing the train could have a glory hole set up where I could suck him off in a socially acceptable way before work. I decided to move on, be submissive to the hand of fate. If he were to appear again, I would consider what my actions should be.
The next day, I stayed vigilant on the platform, Beşiktaş escort people watching with tentative, but starry-eyed hopes that I might see him there. I hadn’t noticed where he had gotten on previously, but he matched the blueprint of the type of person in my neighborhood, so I grasped the small hope. But I didn’t actually expect to find myself sitting next to him on the train. I was buzzing, feeling every nerve of my thigh responding to he gentle touch of his leg on mine as the train shook. He smelled intoxicating, a musky citrus cologne, and a hint of tobacco, maybe from smoking in his baggy corduroy jacket previously. Had he sat next to me on purpose? Did he even remember me from the previous morning? I felt like I was going insane, reading so far into the average coincidence for my own good.
I decided to set up a small trap, a test to see if he was at least slightly interested in me. I pulled open the neckline of my wrap shirt, exposing significantly more of my cleavage. Leaning forward, I subtly squeezed my breasts together. Out of my peripherals, I caught him craning his neck downward. I tensed my shoulders more and lightly jiggled in my seat. On cue, his leg involuntarily shook against mine, and he turned his head, embarrassed. He bit his lip and clutched his phone tightly. With my newly found confidence, I placed my hand on his thigh, cautiously rubbing. His breath quickened, and he shifted his body closer to me, snaking his arm around my back and sliding his hand into the waistband of my pants. His touch was cold, and his fingers shook from nervousness or excitement, maybe a combination of the two. I knew he could feel that I was wearing a g-string, leaving just skin on skin contact between us as he stroked my ass. I wondered if he could feel the goosebumps scattering my lower back, reacting so his delicate touch.
The name of our stop drew us back into reality, and I didn’t ignore him holding his backpack over his crotch as we filed off the train. I knew I had given him goosebumps and even more. Before the rush hour crowd ate us alive again, he quickly exclaimed a goodbye, and a promise, over the noise.
“See you tomorrow?”
I was buzzing as I nodded and returned his wave. Tomorrow. Absolutely. Of course. I wanted to propose we turn around and get on the train back home. I didn’t want to wait.
That night, I returned home sweaty and emotionally spent from a day of disguising my racing heart as just commonplace workday anxiety. But no, I was just counting down the hours until I could find reprieve in my solitary home, no coworker or random passerby to demand my attention and time. I wanted to throw my bag onto the floor and toss all of my clothes into the hamper before hopping into bed and grabbing my vibrator. So, I did just that, running naked through my apartment with a mission on my mind.
I grabbed my large Hitachi wand, setting it low and slow at first to tease myself, as if I hadn’t already been teased enough from the day. Maybe I was truly a masochist, writhing already at what he had done to me, not giving me his number, not even a name, just letting my imagination go wild and ruin another day’s productivity for me.
I held the vibrator against my clit, spreading my legs wide and letting an exasperated moan escape my lips. I wanted to scream, run and knock on every door in the area until I found where he lived, yelling “Please fuck me now!”
My nipples hardened as my moans increased in volume, and I clasped one between two fingers. Easy, not too much, just the suggestion of a movement at first. I tickled it until I felt over-stimulated, then backed off slightly to focus on the other, circling my finger, then pulling hard. More moans, loud enough that I worried the neighbor would hear, but not concerned enough to stop.
I turned up the vibrator, pulsing faster, and I shimmied my hips towards it to grind my clit needfully against the rounded end.
Fuck me, Mystery Man.
Fuck me, Stranger.
What is your cock like, Daddy? Are you thick? I saw your bulge in those pants – it’s certainly not small. Will you stretch out my tight little pussy? I hope you’ll fuck me hard, hold my hands behind my back as you pound me from behind. I want you to be a dirty little freak for me and fuck me like you’ve never fucked another woman before. Don’t you want me? Don’t you want to rip my shirt off and see my tits bounce out in front of you? Is that what you wanted to do on the train?
I moved the vibrator quicker as I imagined what he would respond to the questions I posed. I wondered how his day at work had been, if somewhere nearby, he was also stroking his cock to this very thought, covering his stomach with cum and thinking about how beautiful it would look dripping down my lips and chin instead. I loved the idea of being covered in it, lapping up every last drop I could find and savoring the taste of him.
Fuck. I needed him, his hands exploring my body to find new sensitive spots, tenderly stealing orgasm after orgasm Beşiktaş escort bayan from me. I still felt a warm spot on my back glowing from when he touched me earlier. I was so turned on I forgot to breathe, gripping my sheets through a mind bending orgasm. I had just done the laundry, but what’s one more time? I couldn’t control my hips bucking upwards and releasing a warm blast of squirt. The vibrator buzzed loyally against my slippery clit, and I couldn’t stop.
My fantasies shifted to thinking about what would’ve happened if he had been bolder with his hands on the train earlier, if he had dared to tease my asshole and tickle it while I squirmed in my seat. What if he had slid his finger inside of me, letting me rock back onto it with the gentle movement of the train helping me grind it deeper? What would those fingers do to me if he were here with me now?
That was enough to make me squirt again, sending a shock up from my pussy to my brain. Exhaustedly, I threw the vibrator to the floor and fell back onto my pillow, buzzing in anticipation. Finally, I had some release from the day, evidence of the hours of denial seeping through the sheets to the mattress.
The next morning, I woke up with a mission and a dream. My night had been full of visions, some sexual, some romantic. But, one of those ideas stuck out to me, my subconscious’ brilliance: I wanted to wear a butt plug to work today and let him know I was wearing it. Standing in front of my sex toy drawer, I thoughtfully selected which was luckiest. I settled on my small, beautiful stainless steel plug with the shining gem on the flared end. It was shaped perfectly, curved and round, and always felt cool to the touch when I first inserted it. Happy with my decision, I fetched my bottle of lube and began preparing the toy and my asshole, sliding in two fingers to loosen myself sufficiently. I couldn’t help but rub my clit as I slowly slid the toy in, releasing a low, familiar guttural moan. Incredible. I was filled up and standing straighter.
To complete the look, I chose a pair of pants with an elastic waist, hoping to experience the same touch I felt yesterday. Easy access – I wanted him to realize there was something inside of me, that I was a dirty whore for him, a total stranger, and I had put this much time and effort into making myself a fucktoy for him. I fixed my hair and makeup, chugged a quickly-made protein shake, and then raced out the door, trying not to trip on my heels.
As promised, he was there on the platform, the first time I had actually seen him before getting on the train. He looked relaxed, more than me, cooly sipping on his to-go coffee cup and scrolling on his phone. I reflexively pulled down my shirt again and gasped excitedly as the train pulled into the track. He looked up, craning his neck around as if he was looking for someone. I knew who. We made eye contact, and he smiled at me, nodding his head in the direction of the train for me to follow him.
Everything was normal at first, me sitting next to him after escaping the crowd of fellow commuters racing to find a seat. We exchanged a few pleasantries, talking about the chilly temperature, asking each other how our days had been. Something about the way he asked “how was your night?” made me blush, wondering if my fantasy of mutual masturbation had actually come to fruition. Was he waiting for this moment like me?
As stops went by of neither of us making a move, I decided to cast my line, placing my hand on his leg the same way I had done previously. In response, he put his hand on top of mine, gently rubbing his fingers over my knuckles. I suppressed a needy moan and decided to guide him back to where he had touched yesterday. He released a nervous chuckle, then gave in to me. I felt his hands slide into my pants easily, his fingers dragging gently down from the small of my back to the top of my ass. I leaned against him harder, pushing his hand down further to feel the metal plug.
He gasped, then acclimated himself. Mischievously, he used his thumb to wiggle the plug inside of me, causing me to gasp quietly and increase the pressure of my grasp on his thigh. I felt a whisper at my ear, his warm breath teasing me.
“Did you do this for me?”
I nodded, knowing smiles flooding both our faces in the moment of recognition. There was no way I would be able to work today. I felt so turned on and excited that I thought I would vomit.
“Hey, so, are you doing anything important at work today?”
He looked at me, puzzled.
“No, it’s probably gonna be a pretty average day for me. Why?”
I could tell by his tone that he knew I had ulterior motives to my question, so I began rubbing his thigh more, dragging my fingers further up, trying to tease his growing erection that barely hid behind his pants.
“I was thinking, maybe we both just skip work today…maybe you can join me at home?”
At first, he had a look of shock, then knowing recognition to what was being proposed. He Escort beşiktaş looked at his phone, and I watched him open up his calendar app. My heart sank when I saw a few random hours of time blocked out for meetings. I was a fool. This would never happen.
“Hmm. Well, we can get off this next stop and cross over to the other side, I guess.”
The journey back to my place felt both like hours and minutes simultaneously, with both of us engaging in heavy petting, public displays of disgusting sexual attraction. This trip back to my apartment on this particular train always felt wonderful, knowing that I was finally getting to relax after a long day of work. I felt the normal pangs of excitement and longing, but with an infinitely more intense fire in my soul. The lovely stranger was sitting next to me, playing with my butt plug, squeezing my ass hard and groaning quietly into my ear. I tried hard to ignore the judgmental stare of the older woman across from us while I waited for the doors to open. Impatiently, the stranger and I pounced out of the train, and I quickly guided him back to my apartment, letting autopilot control me as my thoughts raced.
As soon as my apartment door opened, our lips were already against each other, and hands thoughtlessly flew from body part to body part.
He held me tightly around my waist, pushing me against the wall as he moved his tongue around my mouth, grinding his crotch into me. His cock was already rock hard, eagerly rebelling against repressive fabric. I moved my hips against him, indulging on the contact, the friction rubbing against my clit. He was dying for me; I could tell there was already some wetness growing in his underwear. There was a damp spot on the outside of his pants, feeling cold against me. I was getting extremely wet myself, my panties flooded with anticipation, my pussy begging for the cock that was being teased against me.
He broke away momentarily for a breath and eyed me from head to toe, his gaze lingering on my chest. I giggled and reached up to my breasts, squeezing them gently while holding his eye contact, then bounced them generously so that they would fly out of my top, barely holding back my large D cups in the first place anyway. I jumped, and they revealed themselves. I watched as he took in the sight, my pale pink nipples hard and ready for him to give them attention.
With a gasp, he grabbed me again, kissing and biting down my neck, suckling on each inch of skin. His mouth trailed down to my chest, and he flicked his tongue gently over one of my nipples while tightly grabbing my ass. I moaned against him, running my fingers through his hair as he sucked.
“Oh fuck, dude.”
I heard him chuckle, then move onto my other nipple, this time moving his hand down to my thigh. He drew small shapes against me, moving his hand towards my pussy, but never touching, just teasing the sensitive skin. As I moaned, he licked quicker, and began tickling the entrance of my vagina, making a motion to slip a finger in, but then backing off. I was putty in his hands.
“Please. Please more.”
He had already reduced me to begging. I wanted his finger inside of me, to show me exactly how close my fantasies had been. He pulled back from my nipple and chuckled, now using both hands to rub my inner thighs.
“Well, if you’re going to beg.”
I whimpered as he slid one finger inside, finally getting to feel just how wet and ready I was for him. I realized I was even wetter than I had been when fantasizing about this the previous night. I was dripping; a halo of wetness was dripping down my inner thighs. I knew he could feel that too, and he decided to make me even wetter.
“Go sit on the couch.”
I obliged, walking over to the couch and patiently waited as he stood in front of me, analyzing me, deciding his plans.
“Take off your pants.”
I smiled and obeyed him, standing up to shimmy my pants down over my hips, then stepping out of them. I looked to him for a sign of approval, but he still remained focused and intense.
“Spread your legs.”
Again, I listened to him, opening up my thighs to show him my glistening cunt, beckoning for him. He walked over, slowly and with intention, then dropped to his knees in front of me. With a sly smile, he looked up at me, and quickly started rubbing my clit, holding my eye contact with a stone-faced expression. He was methodical, a machine, close to the performance of my vibrator. He placed one hand on my lower stomach, holding me down as I bucked up against him. He was dedicated to his mission, never breaking rhythm until my clit throbbed against him in a body-shaking orgasm. Fuck. I needed more of him. I wanted him to make me cum again.
Seemingly reading my mind, he grabbed both of my thighs and situated himself in front of me, marveling at my wetness, and cooing sweet words as he tickled my clit with his thumb. After a small moan escaped from my lips, he dove forward, tongue first, towards me. My hands shot down to grab his hair, to hold him close against me as he went down on me. I felt the vibration of his moans against me as I pulled his hair tightly. He was practically suffocating, but he did not stop until I squeezed my thighs around his head and did not release until I screamed out a throaty moan.
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