London Commute

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Strangers fantasize as they rub together on train.
2.7k words
4.17
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Her:

Walking toward the platform at Knightsbridge station, I struggle to keep my modesty because my short loose skirt wants to float around my hips with every step. I curse my vain American attempt to appear less touristy as the designer shoes pinch my toes. My bare legs are getting so many lewd looks from men of all ages, even at this early hour of the day. And the soft chiffon floral blouse dips just low enough in front to give a tempting glance of my cleavage, the pearl buttons straining as the canvas bag slung on my shoulder pulls at the delicate fabric.

The outfit had looked so good this past weekend when I was shopping on Regent Street that I had to have it. It is a little sexy for my days spent wandering in book shops, antique stores, and museums, but much more feminine and flattering than the jeans and pullover shirts I had been slobbishly traipsing around in during my first week in London. I am determined to spend today lost in the British Museum, and have my sketchbook, pencils and journal tucked into my shoulder bag.

As I wait for the Piccadilly Line train to arrive, I casually lift my slightly damp hair and twist it into a careless knot at the nape of my neck. Stubborn tendrils of my auburn hair refuse to be tamed, and have to be casually brushed away from my face from time to time. I am still perturbed about the amount of time I had to wait for my shower at the hostel this morning. Sometimes traveling on a budget has its pitfalls, including interfering with best laid plans and train schedules.

I look anxiously down the dark tunnel, awaiting the tell-tale rush of air and distant approaching light as the platform around me grows suddenly crowded with people on their way to work. I curse my fate for having to begin my day's venture at the morning peak travel time. But I wanted to get as much time at the museum as I possibly could today, so I couldn't wait another hour or so for the traffic to decrease.

The train arrives and I am swept into the car with the tide of morning commuters. I survey the crowded seating, and choose to stand so that I can make a quick escape at Leicester Square to change trains. I hold on to the cold smooth pole with one hand and clutch at my shoulder bag with the other. I study the mini tube map on the wall of the train intently, careful not to stare at the other people who are clustered nearby. Once I have that map almost memorized, I amuse myself by reading the headlines on the tabloids that various passengers clutch preciously. I notice with further amusement some men seated nearby whose glances take in every inch of my smooth legs from my elevated heels to my flirty skirt hem.

With each short stop the train grows even more crowded and few people exit as we make our way toward the heart of the city. It becomes nearly impossible to maintain a discreet physical distance or avoid eye contact with the men and women around me. At least with so many people on the train, few of them have a good view of my legs and can't gawk, though I catch a couple of older women casting disparaging glances at my immodest neckline.

At Green Park, we stop for a few seconds longer than at the other stations, and I use the time to shift my bag to the other shoulder to avoid bumping the short woman who is now crowding me on the right. When I put my hand back on the pole, I brush a warm masculine hand that has taken the place where my hand was. Blushing, I turn quickly to the man standing close...sooooclose...behind me and murmur "sorry," looking up at his strong handsome face through lowered eyelashes. When I blush, it makes my eyes look even more green than usual, and looking at him makes my pupils dilate as my heart begins racing. I'm sure that everyone can see my nipples hardening through my thin blouse.

He has thick, dark hair and deep, dark eyes that barely glance my way over his folded copy of the Financial Times held so casually in his hand that isn't next to mine. I turn away quickly, but not before I notice the impeccable business suit clothing his strong hard body. His masculine smell infuses itself into my senses as the last few passengers push their way onto the train, making it impossible for me to avoid brushing my back against him. I feel him raise his hand out to my side so his paper isn't pressed into my back.

The train moves, and the sudden lurch pushes me back into him, despite the straining of my legs to hold me steady. I feel electricity course through my body as my soft curves press momentarily against his hard thighs. The movement of the train swings my hips gently, and the pile of people in front of me pushes me inevitably closer to touching him with each sway. I feel warmth spreading from between my legs up my spine and making my breath come quick and fast. I can feel his heat behind me, his breath on my flushed neck.

So I stop fighting the movement and relax my stance, my body immediately pressing against his. I try to listen to his breath, feel out his response with my back, but I notice no change. Surely he merely sees that I have no room to move away, and he is so engrossed in his routine commute that I am nothing more than another person to politely ignore on this crowded train. If he only knew the physical effect he was having on me! I am certain that everyone else can see exactly how aroused I am by my flushed cheeks, rosy lips, blushing cleavage, and dreamy eyes. I press my thighs together and let the rhythm of the train and the heat of his body bring me tantalizingly close to a state of public indecency.

Meanwhile, my perverse nature crafts a fantasy of turning around and slipping my hands around his neck, pulling his face down to close over his warm lips with my hungry kiss. I imagine his tongue taking over my mouth with surprise and delight, while I press my tender aroused breasts against his unyielding torso. I eagerly wrap one of my legs around his, pulling his growing hardness into the ravenous heat between my thighs.

We kiss with increasing intensity, oblivious to the shock of the passengers around us. He slides one hand up my thigh into my panties and finds me wet and waiting to take him in. With one swift move he's undone his trousers and slipped his rigid cock into my soft warm depths, and the rhythm of the train becomes the rhythm of our passion. We scream in mutual climax...and I realize the screaming is actually the sound of the train braking for the next stop.

I snap back to reality and notice that my panties are extremely damp as the train begins to slow. I quickly look around to see if anyone noticed my venture into fantasy land, if somehow I'd given myself away with a facial expression or a soft moan while they watched. Most of all, I wonder what he could possibly be thinking as the train picks up speed and begins to move us in a softly undulating rhythm once again.

Him:

There are days when this commute is so routine that time both slows and passes unnoticed simultaneously. Today is not one of those days, for today, there is a goddess on my morning train. I notice her immediately as I enter the train because she looks so out of place in her frilly outfit. Obviously a tourist, probably American. But what is she doing here, on this train, at this hour? One shouldn't question a rare gift. I make my surreptitious way to stand behind her at the pole so I can stare at the curve of her neck over the top of my paper. That paper had come in handy as a quick camouflage so many times before, but standing behind her hardly gave me reason to hide my ogling.

The smell of her damp hair -- is that lavender mixed with vanilla? -- brings up images of her recent shower. I can't help but look down over her shoulder at that enticing cleavage and imagine the water running over those soft creamy breasts, imagine her hands caressing every inch of skin slick with soap. I imagine her nipples are large and a dark rose color when they are aroused. She is standing so close I could easily slip my hand around her, unbutton the top two buttons of her flimsy blouse, and slip my hand into her silky bra. I can almost hear her moan as I would cup her breast, letting the fullness of it rest in my palm while I tease her nipple with my index finger. My lips would trace whispers along that exposed curve of neck, raising her flesh into goose prickles only to be smoothed out by my warm kisses.

When her hand touches mine, an electric shock runs through my body, only to be intensified by her sultry eyes glancing my way to say 'sorry.' I can't look directly at her, afraid she will see what I have been imagining between us, and afraid I would have to take her right then and there. My torture grows more intense as the train starts moving her full curved hips against me. I lean slightly forward so she won't notice, but enough to ensure our bodies will be close enough to touch with the swaying of the train. I have only to stand here, rigid in more ways than one, and let the movement of the train entice her into moving closer. Ahh! I feel her relax into me, our bodies now in full contact. And now, I can't push the fantasies out of my head. I stare blindly at the paper, but my thoughts run wild.

I feel myself grow harder as I think of leaning into her body and pushing her tight against the tube doors. My deep, dark eyes are screaming my desire to feel every inch of her naked skin against my bare, firm body. I want to push my leg between hers, just enough for my thigh to teasingly rub up against her. I would shift my weight and let the rocking and swaying of the tube create gentle caressing motions against that soft pussy. My breath blows heavily against her neck as I glance down her slightly open blouse, glimpsing the mounded tops of those sexy firm breasts. My desire to take her right then and there reaches unrelenting levels and I fervently wish we weren't surrounded by so many people.

I want to push my hand up inside her skirt and feel her through what must be damp panties before pulling them aside to slide a bold finger up inside her. I imagine what it would be like to have everyone leave the train so that I could push her down onto one of those seats and slide open her legs. My hands and mouth would be eagerly unbuttoning her shirt to expose that silky bra struggling to hold those firm breasts, hiding their aroused state from my hungry mouth. With one swift tug I'd rend her bra in two, freeing her beautiful body, and feasting my eyes, hands and mouth on those gorgeous curves. Her moans would urge me on, making me ache to please her further, making my cock throb so painfully with desire to devour her.

I would push her skirt up around her hips and slide those wet panties down to expose that silky pussy. Immediately I would cover her moist flesh with my mouth, kissing and licking her wet slit as I go down onto my knees like a lion devouring his prey. I would push her legs up onto my shoulders and spread them wide apart, forcing that sweet pussy deeper into my face as my hands slide up feeling every inch of her nakedness. I feel her nipples harden in my hands as I bite and suck gently on her clit. Her breathing grows heavier as I slide two fingers into her, making her writhe and squirm under my tongue and hands.

My desire for her knows no bounds, so I would force her onto her feet and turn her, pushing her hard against the vertical hand rail. The cold bar rubbing against her naked wet pussy while I am pushing my hard cock against her ass and slowly lowering and raising myself so that her slit is pushed hard onto the bar and is forced to slide up and down its shaft. I would pull her head back and kiss that sexy neck as my hands take hold of her hips and increase her sliding motion against the long, hard bar. I long to wipe her hot juices off the bar with my fingers and then rub them onto her hardened nipples. My cock would throb fiercely against her ass listening to her whimpers of pleasure. I almost cum at the thought of taking her over and over.

I would take her by the waist, turn her to face me, push her up against the glass doors and thrust my raging cock up into her dripping pussy. She would wrap her legs around my hips and I would grab her thighs to hold her up. I imagine bringing my lips hard against hers, turning moans into whimpers as I push deep and hard. My hands would slide up and down her thighs catching her dripping juices and rubbing them all over those gorgeous tits, only to make my cock grow harder at the taste of her as I lick those luscious breasts clean. I would pin her hard against the glass as she spreads her legs wider, hips thrusting crazily, pulling me in deeper. My cock would be raging as I feel the cum rushing up my shaft. We would slam hard against the doors and thrust frantically as we explode, my hands groping hard on those sexy tits as my cum opens her insides and fills her with my desire as she screams out in ecstasy, clinging to my shoulders so hard it leaves marks that last for days.

Suddenly, I feel a jolt and hear the sound of opening doors followed by a voice over the tannoy: "This is Kings Cross St. Pancras; please alight here for the Northern and Central Lines." A flow of people rushes past me as I look around the tube bewildered and confused. I am fully clothed, still holding my paper in one hand, but she is no longer standing in front of me. I see her reddish hair atop that graceful neck drifting away with the tide of exiting passengers. My whole body aches with her sudden departure, and I am thankful for the camouflage of the paper as I casually lower it to rest in front of my swollen crotch. As mysteriously as she appeared, she has disappeared. But a smile spreads across my face as I am sure we will meet again.

Her:

Damn! I get so caught up in my silly fantasy that I completely miss my planned stop! I rush from the train with the outgoing tide of passengers, flustered and not able to focus on the map in front of me as I try to figure out how to backtrack and reach my destination. My breasts are still tingling as some unknown force compels me to turn against the flow of traffic and look through the large train windows. As the platform clears, a new rush of excitement makes me shudder with pleasure as I see him still standing there on the departing train, a mysteriously satisfied smile making him look even more devastatingly handsome than he had been in my fantasy.

I decide that I will be sure to make the same train tomorrow morning.

(Special thanks to my London friend TJ for inspiration)

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5 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
Oh god

This was wonderful I hope you continue it!!!

iowasongbirdiowasongbirdabout 14 years ago
Wow!

Very erotic! Someone spoke of the story leaving the reader frustrated. Not me! Well written - I didn't proofread (that was NOT my intention when reading the story! *grin*) but I didn't see any glaring issues to detract from the story. I CAN speak from the woman's POV - not bad, but could have been expanded a bit. Nevertheless, a very nice story to cum to! I would love to see another story with these characters - maybe the next time she takes this train, they get bolder? Whether you continue this story or not, PLEASE keep writing!

Harper2Harper2over 16 years ago
POV

Loved the way that you presented both male and female point of view. I cannot speak for the female POV, but you certainly got the male bit right.... Keep on writing

AnonymousAnonymousover 16 years ago
FROTTAGE

You can have many an erotic hour or so on the tube at rush hour,its called Frottage.

AnonymousAnonymousover 16 years ago
A promising start

A promising start. It could even be an erotic short story by itself. It leaves the reader mildly frustrated but you arouse turgid feelings in this male - thoughts of silky thighs and pressing bodies are somehow much more erotic than some of the more crude descriptive prose used by certain others.

Keep up the good work.

I'm anonymous in this comment but please don't take that as rude.

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