Subway Lust

I glance at the clock, bite my lip and swear, pushing my fingers to type faster. Work has taken forever today. God please let me done by 5! Let me catch my train! Please!

With the computer off, desk clear, things collected, I rush out the door, eyes on my watch, sprinting the last block to the train station.

Once there I meet the crowd of evening commuters, but I doubt they have the same reason for impatience as I do.

Three minutes to spare, I squeeze into the already crowded car, but my anxiety does not fade, it only increases.

My pulse matches the speed of the train as an automated voice announces the stops.

My foot starts to tap. My body starts to hum more and more, the tension inside my chest builds and builds.

It is now that I start to count down the stops. My eyes dart to the doors. The doors open.

My heart stops, falls, and there you are.

Trying to swallow I almost fail. This has been going on for a while now...seeing you on the train, the catch is, I see you but you never see me.

You're in your usual clothes, so professional and crisp. Your demeanor is always hidden but I imagine its near blank.

I let my eyes slide down your neck to your shoulders; it's now that you slightly roll them, making the rest of your body follow.

You look tense, I wish I could rub that out of your shoulders for you, or do you have a girlfriend who does that when you come home?

Do you make sweet love to her? Do you fuck her brains out?

With a jolt the train sways our bodies and I watch it swing yours like a pendulum left to right.

Your hand moves from the metal poll to the strap just next to your head.

I catch a glimpse of it and picture it wrapped around my hip as you pound into me. My teeth bite down harder to stifle a moan.

The train stops, a short delay. Panic sets in. My eyes dart around the crowded train. Is it written all over me? Can they see my flushed cheeks? Can anyone else smell how wet I am?

The silence thickens as I look at you again, my eyes still infatuated with your hands.

I will you to turn around...but you never do. How I wish you'd give my eyes something more to see, just a bit more to fill my fantasies...

As we wait a flicker of movement catches my eye.

Slowly, oh so slowly, your fingers in the looping strap curl then relax. Clenching and releasing the loop again and again, not impatient and fast, but slow and deliberate, like one of the many ways I wish you'd fuck me.

Each time you do this you unknowingly wind a spring inside me. I watch. I breathe. It gets tighter and tighter, until my heart starts pounding in my ears. Suddenly your hand fists it and I can't take it.

I try to look around the packed car, at the walls, out the windows, but you are like a magnet, like catnip to my eyes, I can never look away for too long.

With a jolt the train resumes I blink and lick my lips, finding them hot and dry. I swallow and let the car rock my body as it may.

A few minutes pass and I feel my stomach start to drop as we near your stop.

My heart slows with the train. I lean on the poll by my side to feel the cold clammy metal against my cheek.

The train pulls and stops, I watch you turn on your heel and savor your profile, it's almost over.

Suddenly, a wave of people pushes me from my spot, my form lost in the massive wave, carrying me from the car onto the platform.

My head snaps around. The train leaves. I pause, horrified with my choice of decisions. My neck snaps my head back and forth between the train tracks and you, between right and wrong, sane and crazy...

I turn and follow you.

Even through the crowd of people I don't lose sight of you, your walk is the kind I could pick out from a dozen other men.

Forcing myself to keep my distance, I try to move quickly. Your pace is brisk, almost impatient. You look anxious to get somewhere.

Two city blocks later and I'm panting, my high heels begging for mercy, and they finally get it as you turn sharply into an apartment five stories high.

I stop dead in my tracks and sigh. Stranding on the sidewalk unmoving, looking up at your building. My God I've become a stalker! Even worse, now I'm a disappointed one!

Oh, if only I could see you one more time...

The shove and thud of a window above catches my ear and I look up, my wish has been answered.

I almost smile at you, but all too quickly you move away from the window. My eyes descend toward the ground and discover something that sends me reeling...there is a fire escape by your window.

Do I dare?

Yes I do.

Cold metal fills my hand as winding ladders fill my view and the first two rungs meet my feet.

Whether the climb was slow or fast I did not notice, but I do know for sure that by the time I reach the window my body is on fire.

With my heart slamming against my ribs, I sit back on my heels, ass cheeks to souls of feet, eyes wide as I dare to gaze in...oh my god...it's your bedroom...it's you...

Still in your oxford dress shirt and work slacks you press your palms flat to the wall to the left of the window. You hang your head, frustrated, dejected, tired, I don't know exactly which.

You stay frozen like that for what seems like hours. I wait utterly transfixed.

Your arm moves your left hand down until I hear the zipper of your pants.

I fall forward, temple to the brick siding, shocked as your hand disappears into your slacks.

Your back tenses, your hand drops and with one stroke you give me what I've been dying to see...your cock.

Your head falls back. I moan.

You stroke. I shiver.

The more you do it the faster my resolve crumbles.

Forehead to glass, hand on my tummy, I don't dare take my eyes off of you. How you pump it. Squeeze it. Your muffled moans mix with the labored breathing in my ears.

I see your knees weaken and I can't take it. My hand disappears under the waist of my skirt. My fingers are greeted with hot slippery wet juice.

Sliding my fingers up my slit, cupping my hand, I find my little red throbbing clit.

That first tentative rub makes my thighs jump. The second pushes my ass out.

My eyes want to close but I fight to keep them open, mesmerized by the motion of your fist as it flies up and down your shaft.

I want to see you go over the edge, cum when you cum, moan when you moan.

The risk, the lust, the sight, all combines into a drug that makes me totally and completely yours.

You twitch. I know you are close. So am I.

My hand presses to the brick, my breath steaming up your glass. My moans push out with my ragged breathing.

I silently beg you to cum. I want it. Want it more than all the weeks I've wanted you combined.

Frantically I rub, circle, press and torture my pulsing nub until it feels full to the point of bursting.

My body tenses, breathing suspended, my cum flowing as yours spurts from your throbbing cock.

Softly convulsing, I push two fingers deep inside, holding and sending chills raging down my spine.

Reality slowly returns as I sit back, pull my fingers out, and feel the last of my thick creamy cum be caught by my panties.

Watching you relax I look at you with very different eyes, this time deeply satisfied ones. Your shoulders drop, your lips part in a sigh and mine spread into a smile.

I press my free hand to your window. My smile deepens and turns wistful as you walk away, out of your bedroom, disappearing completely from view.

Just goes to show, you never know who lusts after you.