Anonymous

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Long-distance lovers share a sweaty night.
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The bag hangs off her right shoulder. It is small and light, considering it's for a four day stay, but it is still of considerable size. He's waiting for her when she comes out of the gate, and runs to her a moment later. They embrace, for the first time in years, each squeezing the other as if to crush. He takes the satchel, over her protestations, and they walk through the station. At the other end, they take the escalator, and go through the doors, to the subway. He brought an extra pass, and they quickly go through. They're speaking about the city, their recent lives, successes, and troubles, but their eyes are wandering lower.

They wait three minutes for the train, and board. There are a few scattered other passengers, mostly boarding from that same station. The train is otherwise nigh deserted. They're sitting together, her resting her tired head on his shoulder--she is still waking from the train, even as they talk.

Three stops later they disembark, and walk down the stairs to their transfer platform. They wait a few minutes more, and yet another train arrives. They get on the last car. It is the late evening, on a Thursday, on a disused line on the rearmost car, and they are the lone passengers. Still, though the car is empty, they sit in the rear alcove of the car. They sit next to each other again, though by now is she fully revived. His arm is around her waist, and, as they talk, he playfully tickles her side.

She laughs, and tickles his, and kisses his lips lightly. He returns the favor, then kisses her more deeply, sensually, with just a hint of tongue. Even as the smooch reaches its height, he tickles her again, and it ends in a sputtered giggle from both sides.

Her eyes quietly survey the train again, before she quickly unzips his fly, unbuttons his boxers [though not his jeans], and pulls out his penis, already partially erect from their tense play. She nibbles his earlobe, and whispers "See? You're ticklish, too."

Her cool hand still wrapped around his phallus, she kisses him again deeply, with tongue. As their lips part, she sticks out her tongue, and licks her right hand, then brings it down on his head. She feels it expand fully beneath her palm, in that familiar inflation she finds strangely satisfying, as she begins to stroke it lovingly. She brings her hands up and down on it, her fingers playfully running across its underside, and she revels in the subtle throbbing of his excitement.

She kisses him again, thrusting her tongue deeply down his throat, as though to dominate his mouth as fully as she now did his loins, in an embrace of lips more passionate than any either had yet felt, perhaps because of the adrenaline each took from the risk of exposure. As the kiss heightened to a fevered pitch, and as her rubbing grew faster and harder, he undid her zipper, and unbuttoned her jeans. He slid his fingers down, and felt her hair beneath.

She broke the kiss for a moment to breathe "Just like you asked," heavily, "Nothing under the denim, dear."

His fingers slid down, stroking her labia, and deliberately avoiding her clitoris. They reached the bottom of her slit, then pushed between her lower lips. Then, just as her stroking reached its low point on his shaft, he began to stroke up, over her hole. She shivered lightly, and just as her fingers tickled the top of his penis, his half-stroked, half-pinched her clitoris. Her hand dropped down his shaft, and his stroked down her slit, their mouths locked in a sensuous embrace. Up and down, their pulses quickened. Up and down, their passion built. The fifth synchronous stroke was too much denial to bear.

She swung on leg over his, straddling him, her knees at the back of his chair's seat, her hips sitting halfway up his thighs, since he was sitting forward in his seat. Her hands dropped to the base of his hard shaft, holding it like a knife pointed at herself, and she thrust her pelvis forward. Even as she did so, he sunk his fingers into her, and used his palm to cover the rest of her quivering, wet vulva. His penis was harmlessly deflected by the back of his palm.

She thrust down harder, pressing his hand into his hers, still gripped at the base of his shaft, and pushing her cleavage into his chin. "Please," she whispered, undulating her famished hips. His fingers began to move inside her and she arched her back and neck. As she did, her shirt caught on his chin, buried between her breasts, and he pulled it off the right one.

He began to move his fingers faster within her, and now her hands were not distracting him. With his teeth, he carefully pulled her bra from off her right breast, to reveal the swollen nipple beneath. He moved his lips to it, and sucked gently. She began, against her will, to moan softly as her pleasure built.

Keeping one hand wrapped around his shaft, she sunk the other one into his boxers, and began to tickle his sack, gently stroking it, even as his fingers bent and twisted inside her. They touched every inch they could find, probing, seeking, tickling and enticing her wet, tight, hot core. His tongue danced across her nipple, and ecstasy began to overtake her.

Desperately, she turned her face down, and whispered "Please, make love to me." His fingers pushed in harder, moving yet faster. His sucking grew more intense. She could feel her pussy begin to contract on the two welcome, yet torturous, probes. "Please," she continued, biting back orgasm, "I want you inside me."

He gently placed his teeth around her nipple's bulbous head. "No," he said, then sucked down hard. Her wetness drenched his hand, as he pushed it as deeply as he could inside her.

Every muscle in her body clenched to hold back the onrushing wave. "Why not?" she moaned, as the dam began to crack. He took his mouth off her nipple. With his free hand, he brushed her two arms off his groin. She was too paralyzed and distracted by her own gathering storm to resist.

Abruptly, he removed his fingers from her hole. She for a moment abated her tense struggle against coming. Even as she momentarily released, however, he stood up with a start. With every muscle in his body, he rammed forward, slamming her against the reinforced-glass that partially divided the small alcove from the rest of the car. The motion didn't even have time to register before he followed, crashing into her, and sliding his cock up her now-vacant hole with all the force his body could exert. The sudden shock, the abrupt entry of his shaft, and her own brief release of restraint were too much.

She came, with him inside her like a pillar supporting a crumbling building, her every muscle contorting and releasing in an iron-hard orgasm. It built, and built, higher and higher, washing over her as none before had, her legs buckling under her. Unable to contain herself, she let out a small, barely-concealed scream. For a brief second as it began, she was afraid they would be discovered--what conductor wouldn't check when he heard a woman scream late at night?--until she heard the metal squeal of a braking train. Even as her orgasm crested, he whispered in her ear, tickling the lobe with his breath and ear, "Because this is our stop."

Her screaming moan turned into a giggling sigh, as she came down, in lock step with the slowing of the train. As her body calmed, he withdrew, sliding his now-soaking wet penis out of her quivering pussy. He gently moved her bra and shirt back over her breast, and, just as the door of the train opened, redid her jeans. He picked up her bags, as she reached for his fly. For a moment, however, the wanton sensualist in her took over once more, and before she placed it back in its clothing, she wrapped her lips around its head, and licked and sucked it briefly clean. His motion paused to revel in it for an instant, then resumed as she zippered him up. They walked calmly out of the train, with no outward signs but somewhat mussed hair.

They left the metro station, riding the long escalator to street level, their hands interlaced. They were again chatting of the events of their lives, joking, smiling, and generally enjoying each others' company. They reached the top of the escalator, and began to walk the four blocks to his building. He had her bag on his left shoulder, his right arm around her, resting his gloved hand slightly below her right breast.

The weather was not much different than in Richmond, only a few degrees colder. Perhaps under normal conditions, she would have been slightly uncomfortable in the trivially greater chill, but she found it almost pleasant, cooler her off after the earlier passions. They passed building after building, the streets slipping by unnoticed as the old friends rekindled the intimacy that physical separation had somewhat inhibited.

They reached the entrance to his building, and he swiped the scanner with his ID. The doors silently opened, and, without breaking conversation, they continued into the building and up the stairs. Their paces independently, but simultaneously, quickened as they got, step by step, closer to their destination. They walked onto the second floor, almost jogging, and he led her to his room at the end of the hall. He rustled for the keys in his pockets, as she quietly asked "Your roommates?"

He inserted the key into the lock, and quietly breathed "Aren't back from Winter Break." He was so distracted by the coming passions that he hadn't even made a joke about the obviously sexual connotations of sliding the key into the lock.

He opened the door, tossed the bag inside, and closed it behind him. Almost as the lock clicked, he felt her hands embrace him like a vice. He felt her lips press down on his neck, and sensed the hands unbuttoning his shirt.

He wrapped his own arms around her, one on each of her hips, and hooked his thumbs under her jeans. As she finished unbuttoning his shirt, one hand began to explore his chest, while the other slid down his torso, and undid his fly. His own hands slid around to the front of her jeans, and, even as his pants fell, hers followed. In synchrony, each stepped out of the discarded garments. He grasped her hands, and spun around, face to face, their arms crossed in front.

"No fair," she grinned. "I've nothing to hide behind, and you have THAT little thing," she joked.

"Does it bother you?" he asked, spinning her around as though in a tango, so that now she faced away from him. He pulled her in, her back against his belly. She could feel his ramrod-readiness poking the small of her back. He let go of her hands, and she pulled his boxers down, even as he began to pull her shirt up. She obliged, lifting her arms.

As the woolen sweater left her body, she undid her own bra strap. She pulled it off, as he removed his own already-unbuttoned shirt. They kicked off their shoes--neither wore socks. They were now completely naked, her leaning back against his chest. He slid his hands forward, between her arms and flanks, so that they met and clasped at her belly button.

He bent his knees a little, so that his chin rested on her shoulder, and his cheek rubbed up against hers. His shaft, hard as a rock in anticipation, stuck out between her thighs, its head and part of its length extending beyond her thighs. He bent his arms, raising his hands to his face, and licked first one, then the other, then moved each to start massaging her nipples. She nuzzled his cheek, then licked her own palms. She lowered her hands to his shafter, and began to stroke his head. She could feel the throbbing--he hadn't come in the subway, and she knew he had to be feeling the twinge of blue balls.

"Don't worry," she crooned. "I'll make it all better," she continued. She let go of his head, turned around, and kissed his nose, before lowering to her knees. He leaned back against the door for balance, and she resumed stroking his shaft. "My only demand is that afterwards, I stand back up, and you go in from behind," she dictated, to which his response was a grin and a nod.

"I know how much you like that," he assented with a knowing smirk.

She began to stroke his shaft again, but the friction was too high. Perhaps her mouth was a little dry, or she hadn't licked her palms enough, or perhaps the surface area was simply to great for a little saliva to smooth the way--there was a downside to size, after all--but her palms were meeting with too much resistance. She kissed the tip of his head, and said "Needs to be a little slipperier."

She leaned back, and spread her knees, to reveal her dripping pussy, still wet from the train, compounded by her current arousal. She dipped two fingers into herself, and pushed her pelvis against her hand. She rocked back and forth, back and forth, against her hand, then removed it, and repeated with the other hand. She then placed each around his shaft, and gripped. He sucked in air, as her now-slippery hands slid up and down his lengths, tightening around his cock. She moved them forward and back, forward and back, then, as they reached their furthest from his body, she removed further hand, and, as she pushed back towards him, slid her mouth around his head.

She could see his muscles tense as she took in his masculinity, her free hand moving to caress his scrotum. She ran her tongue across his head, and she could feel the pre-cum slowly ooze from the eye as the pulsing throbs grew stronger. Her fingers danced across his sack, as her hand stroked up and down his quivering shaft.

Her mouth inched further and further around him, taking more of him, bit by bit, inside her. Her tongue covered more and more of his head and shaft, circling it, stroking it, caressing it, as more entered her mouth. She began to suck in, ceasing her mouth's advance, clamping down on the bulging vein atop his length. Her fingers stroked furiously around and over his testicles, as her other hand gripped as hard as she could on his cock.

He leaned to the corner, where the door met the wall, for better balance, and jerkingly lifted a foot off the ground. He pushed it forward, between her still-spread knees, and stroked her dripping pussy with his big toe. The stroke sent a shiver up her spine, all the way to her dancing tongue. As that muscle within her mouth shuddered, she felt his scrotum rise, and she felt an upward pressure from his dripping cock. His every muscle now opposed his orgasm. Her thighs squeezed in, trapping his foot, and she released her sucking on his cock. "What's between my legs can wait a moment or two, love--it's YOUR turn to lose control" she murmured gleefully, then leaned in.

Releasing the hand gripped around his penis, she placed the tip of her tongue on the bottom of his scrotum. She then dragged it back, tracing a line down the bottom of his shaft. She could feel his toes curl against her labia. As her tongue reached the base of his head, just as her mouth once again wrapped around his quivering cock's tip, with a moaning sigh he exploded. She clamped her mouth down around his spraying head as it went mad with built up lust.

She ticked his scrotum with both hands, and smiled inwardly as he screamed her name, as loud as he dared in the not-quite-soundproof suite. She sucked hard on his cock, rubbing it against the roof of her mouth even as her tongue stroked its underside, as he rode the orgasm down.

As his shaking and moaning stopped, she released his foot, and slid her mouth off his cock. She rested her hands on his hips, and slowly, kissing every inch from the base of his shaft up his belly, up his chest, to his mouth. She looked deep into his eyes, and gulped, taking in his bitter-sweetness, just as she knew he would, at some point that evening, take in hers. His arms snapped around her body, and held her close.

He nibbled her ear, then whispered "That might have been my turn, but now it's yours." He spun around her, so that she faced the door, and he faced her spine, and slid his arms once more under hers, so that they ticked her nipples. His cock, unable to decide between hardness from extreme arousal, and softness from exhaustion, dangled semi-flaccid against her legs. She reached down, and rubbed its head, pulling it up, to lie against her slit. She didn't even notice as his hands dropped down to meet hers.

His left index and middle finger softly stroked her labia, and pushed them aside to expose her moist hole, while the other guided his head up, so that its tip just barely punctured the opening. Her fingers stroked up and down his shaft, as he held it in place, and as his left hand abandoned her labia, and began to caress her clitoris. His cock expanded under her soft touch, pushing into her, and she closed her eyes at the sweet feeling of his entrance.

Now both his hands moved to pleasure her clitoris and her upper labia, cavorting across them like dancers on a stage. He pushed up into her slowly, at the same time thrusting forward, inching her towards the wall. His left hand grasped her clitoris between two fingers, and began to cradle it, twirl it, and hold it. His length sunk up into her, and her hard nipples pressed the door.

He bent his knees slowly, dragging himself back out, until only his head was in her. He stood back up, glacially slow. and continued to rock her clitoris in his left hand. The tip of his head reached her g-spot, and his right hand grabbed the base of his shaft. He pulled it towards the wall, while standing up slightly, and started to circle with his hands.

With the strength of his arm behind it, his head caressed and circled his g-spot. She gasped at the unexpected move, her mind caught between the fingers pleasuring her clit, and the thick, hard head pressing against her spot. Her own hands curved back around him, and she ran her fingers across his bare spine. His pelvis pushed forward further.

His fingers held her clitoris like a cigarette, and he shifted them to roll the nub, as her pelvis, pushed forward by his, crushed his hand against the wall. His broad head pushed harder against her spot, now squashed between his arm and his cock. She could feel the second orgasm building--even though he was not thrusting deeply into her, her fluids dripped down his bulging shaft. He nibbled on her earlobe, and she began to moan. She felt two of the fingers on his right hand slide into her, and they pushed directly against his head into her spot.

Having his broad shaft, and two large fingers, inside her brought a pleasurable pain from overextending her tight vagina. His left hand pressed his fingers back and together, so that they pressed in tightly on her pulsing clitoris, and so the tip of it just barely stroked the door beyond. Her hips began to buck against him, as though struggling to escape, but it was involuntary. His penis stroked and pressed harder and harder against her spot. She could barely contain herself as he rolled her clitoris, and pressed to strongly within her.

She could feel herself contracting, tensing down on her overstuffed cave, mingling a sharp buy mild pain with a sharp but overwhelming pleasure. He sensed the tension, and slid his hand out of her. He pulled his pelvis back, dragging almost all of himself out of her, and, as her hips followed his, bringing her a foot and a half back from the door. Her teeth clenched, biting down on the orgasm to come, and his hands moved up to her shoulders.

Before she realized what that meant, he thrust his hips up, and pulled her shoulders down, throwing his full length into her cove, already on the brink. She started to come, and her legs fell out from under her. He had slid beneath her to get a better angle into which to penetrate her, and she fell onto his lap, pressing and holding his entire shaft in her. She let out a shrill moan/shriek as his hands now returned to stroking her clit, and her orgasm overran her mind completely. For a moment she lost herself to the primal beast within her, not thinking, not observing what was around her, merely embracing the shattering orgasm of the moment.

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