Strangers on a train

Fuck fuck fuck. What a shitty day. I was all set up for having some fun with my Writer… then he just disappeared. And he left me… in a yellow summer dress? Really?? And why on earth did he make me take off my panties and put them in the bin before getting to work? Even when I was still in the metro car, my thighs started sticking to each other… a lot of juice still left down there, but not an inch of arousal left after his departure. And it got worse when I got to work. The dress made men’s heads turn alright, but it wasn’t feeling good at all. Instead I was embarrassed all the time. How could the solid, professional self of me walk around in an office, wearing a dress like that? It was a slut’s choice… and I didn’t feel slutty at all, without Him with me.

You bastard… when you’re going to play me, don’t just walk out on me!!

Nobody agreed to my marketing plan, especially my boss… and I had to defend it all morning. It felt completely silly, sitting there in a conference room around a big table with all people involved in the project, wearing just a flimsy dress and trying to keep my legs together and pushing my dress down my thighs all the time to make sure no one got a glance at my naked crotch underneath it. I went out at lunch time to a store to buy panties; but there wasn’t even a normal shop in the small mall around the corner, just a fancy lingerie shop. I paid top dollar for less than 50 square centimeters of cloth, connected by mere strings, half-covering my mound but nothing of my ass. Yet it was the biggest thing they had. When I got back to the office, I realized it would be even MORE embarrassing when anyone saw a glimpse of this frivolous underwear, so I was even more conscious about keeping my dress down.

Is this fun for you?? I know you’re not writing… but are you even THINKING about me??

It wasn’t until a minute ago when he suddenly returned. I am standing in a busy subway car now, after work, heading to the school of my sister’s kids to pick them up… trying to avoid the hungry and drooling stares of my fellow male passengers, and the disapproving and jealous ones of the women… when he suddenly pops up out of nowhere again. Like the shadow of a cloud disappearing, and the sun suddenly shining across a green pasture. Everything is exactly the same… yet everything is different at the same time. The looks that were irritating and embarrassing a second ago are suddenly welcome again. My tensed muscles relax, I set my feet apart a bit more, and let my hip stick out to one side, enjoying the appreciating expressions on the men’s faces. A man with black hair, in his forties, a rugged beard on his tarnished face catches my eye. I pretend to be irritated as he stares at me without any shame, ignore him, turn away from him; but as I do, I’m sure he gets the best viewing angle on my perky ass, bending over slightly as if a move of the car **** me to.

Is he going to be the one? Do you want him to take me home with him, throw me over his couch and fuck me senseless? I wouldn’t mind that too much...

The train is heading out of the city, and more and more people are getting out at the stations. A seat frees up and I sit down. The dark man is less than five metres away from me, still staring… but this time, I don’t avert my eyes and maintain eye contact. At the same time, I spread my legs a bit in the seat, and let one hand run across my thighs. Starting near the knee, on the outside; but then, if purely by accident, moving it up along the side, taking the cloth of the dress up with it; then crossing the top of the thigh, and reaching to the inside, stroking it. The man breaks eye contact, his glance descends a bit to follow the proceedings of my hand in apparent approval.

The subway stops again at a station… several people are getting off again. Without a word, the dark man suddenly gets up. Without another look at me, he gets to the door and leaves the train. I’m confused.

What… he’s NOT the one? Something else you want to do to me? Who, then?

I look around the car. Just a few people are left, and none of them are candidate partners for a raunchy scene.

Ah wait… I get it! Hang on!

The ding-dong sound announcing the departure is already sounding, as I rush to the exit doors. I manage to squeeze through the doors just before they close. I’m on the platform, the subway is picking up speed and leaving the station. In the distance, several of the other passengers are heading for the station exit; but the dark man just stands there, right in the middle of the platform, looking at me with a self-confident smile on his face. Yeah, that’s right. I just came rushing after a stranger I saw on a subway, wriggling through the closing doors at the very last possible moment, and the look on his face shows that he’s 100% aware of that.

But he’s too old for me! Do you really want me to… play… with him??

He beckons to me, then turns around and starts walking away without even bothering to look over his shoulder. He knows for sure that I’ll follow anyway. He’s walking quite fast, as if he’s challenging me.

Like a bitch in heat, eh? You want me to run after him now? Really?

I have to run for a bit indeed to catch up with him before the escalator. When I do, he wraps a powerful arm around me, grabbing my waist in a firm grip, guiding me to step onto the escalator without a word. As it starts taking us up, he just rolls my body away from him, and he presses his own body from behind against mine. His arms wrap around me like tentacles, pulling me close to him. One tentacle reaches for a boob and takes it in a firm squeeze, another finds the hem of the dress and pulls it up, reaching for my pussy without further ado. He grunts approvingly when he finds the tiny slip I bought at lunch time, and brushes it aside as if it wasn’t there; then two fingers are suddenly inside me, pushing deeper into my unsurprisingly dripping cunt. I pant and moan, my knees wobble, and everything feels like spinning around.

Ah man… you really picked one for me! This guy is GOOD!!

Suddenly the tightness of the grip releases… if he hadn’t kept track, we would have stumbled across the top of the escalator. Instead, he just takes me in his arms and lifts me up for a second as he steps off himself. I’m right in front of him now, and he’s holding me, our faces mere inches apart. He’s taller than me, and I bend my neck backwards and close my eyes, ready to receive his kiss… but no lips come to meet mine.

“I’m sorry, lass… I don’t do kissing.”

They’re the first words he actually speaks to me. I bite my lip… I have always enjoyed kissing. It makes me feel as if a man doesn’t just appreciate my body, but my soul as well. As if I am someone special to him, not just a little piece of meat to have his fun with.

But you don’t want me to feel like that, right? He pushed his fingers inside me just seconds ago, and now you tell me he doesn’t do kisses? You have some kind of humiliation fetish, or what?

It is pointless to protest, of course… it was me who came running after him, he reads my intentions as if I was a crystal ball, and romance is only secondary, indeed. I bite my lip and lower my eyes, and don’t resist when his arm around my waist starts guiding me to one of the flats beyond.

Don’t leave me now… by god… stay with me… please…