Package Transit Ch. 02

The way he's watching you reminds you of the flush swell of your sex; you're painfully horny. Never breaking eye contact, your fingers slowly climb along the waistband of his black jeans, crawling once again over the pillar-hardness of his cock through the material - his breath catches in surprise, and so does yours that he's already aroused, perhaps just by being in your presence? You trace his girth and...damn. You've used the word before, and you'll use it again to describe him - he's gifted.

You fall into the increasingly familiar rhythm of stroking his cock; a flash of emergency lighting and you see how his eyes are fluttering from the pleasing stimulus. Whatever the words hanging at the tip of his tongue, you're skilled enough to silence him, and so...

You push up on your toes, your tongue sliding out under the bottom of his lower lip to kiss him; they are surprisingly soft and warm, and though he returns your kiss he's charmingly shy...not what you would have expected from a hard, tough looking guy like him. Your tongue finds his as you push him up against the wall, your confidence growing to meet your need.

Pulling away, you touch his lips, feather-light, and offer a barely audible "shhh".

Drawing out your newfound seconds, you gingerly unzip the fly of his pants and allow your fingers to slide him free. Gosh...It's only a little darker than your bedroom with the moonlight and the illumination of The City shining through your window. You imagine yourself, lying back on your sheets, working to take him inside of you - your fingers ring around the expanse of his glans, smiling as you notice he's circumcised...a peculiar American tradition, but far less common down here in the South. What's this...? You watch as a pearly, cloudy white droplet of his precum starts to form at the apex of his manhood. Potent...

Your eyes glitter at his and you smile sweet as guava at the way he's watching you with a hooded gaze, tracking over the impression of your sweat-sheened breasts in the dark.

Your eyes flit back to his manhood, and you notice that rivulet of semen is flowing down the underside...and you give in to the wordless voice of your impulses, stroking your hand up and down his curved shaft. "Anhh..." he sighs against your lips and as you relish over the power a slight woman such as you has over a man like him, you kiss him once again -

Oh. Kissing him is actually nicer than you thought it would be; this isn't just the rush of lust from contact with a new, exciting lover, there's something really...genuinely nice about the way he touches you.

You remove one hand from his haft to curl your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him against you and enjoying the furtive grace of his tongue against yours, enjoying how deeply into you he seems to be...is he as intensely attracted to you as you are to him? Why else would he be doing this with you in such an obvious venue? Perhaps the danger was less for him because he was a man, and of course if you were caught undertaking such acts of public indecency it could cost you your job...and what else did you have, really?

The feel of his manhood in your grasp...the unexpected sweetness of this mad dalliance...which was more gratifying to him?

The Devil on Your Shoulder: Or maybe it's the intersection of the two in the space of your mind that makes you so hot for this nameless man?

Indeed, who is this man? Rather than searching for answers, perhaps out of dread that you'd yammer and stammer this whole thing into ruin, you pull closer to him. Against your better judgment, you hike up your skirt and roll your hips upward.

The Devil on Your Shoulder: Are you...really going -

You: No, I swear I'm not going to fuck him on the train, I'm just going to...

The Devil on Your Shoulder: You're just going to...polish his crown?

You: God no don't say it like that -

The Devil on Your Shoulder: Kiss the duke's helmet?

You: Nope. Nothing so utterly crass.

The Devil on Your Shoulder: And yet, Anastasia, there you are, sweetening him with your honey.

It's true. You're tall enough that you can easily slide his head along the soaking wet inseam of your panties, the pressure and warmth flowing through your pelvis, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

"Wait," he whispers, breaking your kiss, and you resist the urge to simply pull him back in and shut him up...but you are a woman of class and dignity, a controlled and upstanding professional and oh god what are you doing?

"I'm Aram," flows his warm, spearmint sigh against your cheek, and he makes you groan into his shoulder when his teeth find and tug your earlobe, clicking over gold rings. You've always enjoyed this sort of stimulation of your clit, but the particular shape of his glans brings you a different sort of pleasure. The puckered underside of his cockhead grinds along either side of your pearl, and even as he teases you toward climax unexpectedly quickly, you shiver forth your name against the sinewed lines of his neck. As he plays the strings of your body's ecstasy like he's already well acquainted with your erogenous zones, you recall every demonstration of kindness he's shown you, a total stranger.

His tongue tangles with yours in the tenebrous heat / He resists a crowd with Herculean strength to protect you and only you

His hands have vacated the wall, following wanderlust underneath your skirt / You're almost there, skirting the edge of orgasm against his bulge when he's reminding you of your train stop

The way he brushes the tip of his nose against yours is sweet, at odds with this scandalous, public display / you hurtle through the air, freed temporarily from gravity, landing against his chest and arms as he takes the brunt of the impact

"...Anastasia," you whisper to him, pressing his hand against your breast, muffling a throaty little 'mmph!' of pleasure when he squeezes.

"Anastasia...You have a beautiful name...honestly I don't usually - "

ATTENTION PLEASE, DUE TO A DISTRICT WIDE BLACKOUT WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING A CESSATION OF TRANSIT ACTIVITIES. PLEASE REMAIN PATIENT WHILE CITY GAS AND ELECTRIC WORKERS RESTORE POWER.

You silence him with your kiss before he can finish his sentence, fully aware of what he's trying to express...that he's not just some grimy shithead out for a quick hump, regardless of propriety.. You wonder to yourself, stroking his stubbled cheek, what he could possibly care about your opinion - you're helping him get off, just like he's helping you. Besides...since the last breakup you endured, you'd become convinced dating was just another capitalist racket.

Still...you kinda hope he does gives you his number. Maybe.

Maybe this was a message from the heavens (not that you were religious in the slightest), that the time poured into your job had been life wasted rather than advanced, that the lonesome cold of your bed was finally too much for you to handle - an explanation perhaps for your abhorrently lascivious behavior in...you know, a place of public transit.

Even so, you suspect that nothing so exciting could occur in your bed, the unfamiliarity and novelty of it all sending tingling light through your body. You can hear people milling past you - he doesn't care, the rolling, mind-dazzling motions of his hips unceasing as a trio of complaining oldsters thud through the door to another car...

The Devil on Your Shoulder: Do you think they saw you?

You: Fuck, fuck I just don't care at all. This is amazing.

You can't keep a lid on the light, breathy sounds rhythmically rising from your lips as you adjust the angle of his cock to press the spongy tip, right near his cumslit, against your vulva and mewl gently...he's so, so close to penetrating you, he could if he wanted. You want him to. At least...you know his name?

"You can't fuck me," you whisper the caveat...somehow trusting that he'd actually follow through - he's struck you as the sort of man who'd respect that condition, a guy who holds a woman's comfort in high regard if such a thing exists in The City anymore. You slide your panties to the side, his wordless consent signaled by the rasp of his teeth against your throat as you rub his manhood between your labia.

Fireworks blossom before your eyes. Without the thin, silken barrier of your underwear in the way, feeling that smooth skin tease between the textured grasp of your netherlips makes your legs weak - he holds you firmly against him in the red, dim emergency light. He pushes the underside of his manhood against your clitoris and you can't help but let out a sound that you muffle with your sleeve.

"Right here? This is what feels good for you, isn't it?" his voice is balmy warm against your temple...your whole body is sticky with sweat - you'll need to change again, but that thought is a mere ripple in the roiling maelstrom of your sex-storming mind.

You nod wordlessly, quickly, moving your hips with his to maximize the stimulation of your pearl, devouring his lips, nipping his tongue even as you slide yours against it. It's good, it's really good, and if he keeps doing it you'll absolutely orgasm.

-kssssT- ATTENTION PLEASE, DUE TO A DISTRICT WIDE BLACKOUT WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING A CESSATION OF TRANSIT ACTIVITIES. PLEASE REMAIN PATIENT WHILE CITY GAS AND ELECTRIC WORKERS RESTORE POWER. -KssSSsst-

He's breathing faster, harder too, and you look down at your fingers to find them shiny with his pre-seed. "I wonder how you taste," you whisper curiously, daintily sampling him as naturally as if you'd known him for years. He's potent...salty, rich, your lips alight upon your own feminine bouquet as well.

The Devil's words are an indistinct, foggy hiss that nonetheless tempts you to your very inner reaches. The nectars of your femininity grace your fingertips, and you paint them beneath his mouth; he licks your juices from them as you grind yourself against him, getting off on the fulsome hardness of his cockhead.

"You're...really...nice," your voice is liquid babbling airily from behind your teeth.

"I really like you." It's such a straightforward declaration, one you're not used to from your various dalliances; it makes your pussy just pulse against the attentions of his cock. You give in, wrapping him tightly in your embrace, biting down on the fabric of his shirt as you start to spasm and shudder in release. Astral flashes of light and sensation boil and foam upward from your vagina into your lower belly, your breasts, your lips - he hasn't even penetrated you and it's one of the most mind-blowing climaxes you've ever experienced and it just doesn't stop...not when he's stimulating you mercilessly, back and forth, up and down, in skilled concentric circles as you cum for him in public.

After your ecstatic quaking has subsided, and your aching leg has dragged from its mating-lock around his waist to support you, he nonetheless holds you close and keeps you steady. To your unending surprise he even touches your face gently, dragging his nails through your viola-black hair. He brushes your lips gently and smirks. "Cold lips...looks like I did my job right." He reaches down, jostling lightly to slide his yet-hard manhood back into his pants, which strikes you as shockingly, almost singularly considerate.

You don't want to leave him unfinished - there, that guilt that a woman feels for not making a man ejaculate, but in this case it isn't coercive in the slightest.

The Devil on Your Shoulder: It's too bad you can't show him how incredibly skilled you are at making a man cum with your mouth.

You: He'll see what I can do with my fingers alone and, drawn by curiosity, want to experience my mouth all the more, don't you see?

The Devil on Your Shoulder: I do, all of this is my idea, Anastasia...

"Don't...just wait," you plaintively breathe against his stubbled jaw. You gather the creamy richness of your arousal, smearing it across his shaft as you pump him in your grasp. He shudders, gasping, gripping the wall behind you as you stroke him off with both hands to please him.

"You deserve to cum at least...you're so nice, making me feel nice like that Aram." You gingerly pepper his neck, his collarbones with affection. "You have a beautiful body, and this cock..." You use the slickness of his precum, of your lubrication to polish his glans with your palm in indistinct circles, a gentle motion like you're gracefully opening a door. "You got me off with it and didn't even enter me...very. Very. Potent."

His ejaculation is...quite something, wow - was he pent up? Even in your dreams you hadn't imagined he'd be like this. The muscles tighten deliciously in his torso and legs, all centered at the base of his cock where your hands work. It's just as hard for him to keep quiet as it was for you, a pulse from balls to tip running under your hand as he shoots his seed with audible impact against the wall near you.

You appreciate the statuesque, expressive beauty of his face as he ejaculates and sink your teeth into his throat, even as he makes a mess all over your fingers. He groans manfully, deeply through his teeth, muffled just in time by the announcer's monotonous, wool-scratchy voice over the speaker. His long, glorious orgasm finally ends and by that time his legs are almost faltering.

"Yesss...oh that was lovely Aram," you sigh against his stubbled chin, smiling dreamily into his eyes. Your fingers are still closed around his penis, which is slowly relaxing in your grasp.

"Sorry, I made...a fucking mess," he looks at your hands in dismay, sticky with his payload but you merely shrug and...hold your palm out to brush across the same trio of elderly complainers returning from the other car, wiping his sperm on their clothes. You give him a saucy little smile and release his cock, but...you don't want to release him.

You've never done anything like this so, what are you supposed to do? Cuddle in the dark? Go on with your day and act casual? He fills in the space and makes the decision for you, making out in the brackish red-lit heat. You melt against one another, a sensation you haven't experienced since you were in college.

What is this? Who is this man?

The Devil on Your Shoulder: Who could he eventually be for you? This man, who haunts your dreams?

You: What are you trying to say? That he's the man of my -

-kkKSssssSt- ATTENTION PASSENGERS, -WHEEZE-, THE BLACKOUT IS STILL ACTIVE BUT EMERGENCY POWER HAS BEEN RESTORED TO THE GREEN, ORANGE, VISTA AND DOWNTOWN LINES. -kkkSKSssT-

-THUNK-

The train lurches forward roughly and you hear some passengers go tumbling down like bowling pins; Aram has a hold on you though, and you keep your balance, even if your thighs are still shaky from climax. "Before you say anything," he begins in a voice that reminds you of music and laughter around a campfire, "Just please hear me out."

You place your hands gently on his chest, and for once in your life you don't feel like something bad is coming...in fact, you get the sense of emerging into the twilight as the sun sets on a scorching day, welcoming a the soothing touch of a rain shower and the reassuring, rumbling hum of thunder in your ears. His earnest smile, the tone of his voice brings to mind someone whom small children and animals would instinctively trust and adore.

"I'm single. I have a job, my own place, I'm clean. Yes, I'm interested, uh...and I'm sorry, I know this is like, kind of an awkward and unusual way to ask someone out, but I was just thinking - "

-kSSst- NEXT STOP GRENIER AND WASHINGTON.

" -shit that's my stop, man why is everything always rushed! I'm gonna be at Liberty Square at sundown, meet me, we'll have a great time, bye, um." You look at him expectantly

The Devil on Your Shoulder: Well? What's he going to do -

He pulls your willowy frame against him, hand at the small of your back, and kisses you one last time.

Heart-shaped fireworks. Celestial, hallelujah choirs. Little, capricious cupids fluttering about, raining arrows upon you. The timing is masterful, the kind you see in soapy dramas or rom-coms.

You're a bit stunned, so your hands just rest on his chest as little pink hearts flash before your eyes.

When he departs, you're floating on a rosy cloud of buoyant romance, smiling in a somewhat sickly manner as the train rolls forward with blind, idiot determination to the next blacked-out station. You're sweltering in the barely-lit darkness and people are alternately smirking or glaring in your direction; normally a creature of self-conscious bearing, terribly aware of how people put so much pressure and expectation on working women, you frankly could care less at this moment. It's like you to get swept away, so you instinctively try to check yourself, but...

You: He so dreamy. Maybe...we can do things like go on dates? Cook for each other?

The Devil on Your Shoulder: You guys gonna hold hands?

You: Don't make fun!

The Devil on Your Shoulder: I'm not at all, I'm getting off on the idea here just like you did!

...what if he's put off by your newly awakened perversions? What if he thinks these shenanigans in the subway, that this is just some sort of one-off with you, and not your typical behavior - not like you'd ever dry-then-wet-humped and jerked off a stranger (or someone you knew!) on public transit before.

The sticky, sex-coated depths of your dirty fantasies were far more deviant, because that dream...if you'd been allowed to enjoy it to completion, you know where it would take you.

The Devil on Your Shoulder: Mmm-mmm! Speaking of, Anastasia, what if you end up seeing -him- again today? You know who I mean so you don't have to play coy. Here, again, you've gone and acquainted yourself with a man's cock before even knowing what he's called!

You: Oh -God-, what if he learns about this? I'm not that sort of woman, I promise -

The Devil on Your Shoulder: You are though, especially deep down, and you could be...that kind of fulfilled, unleashed, utterly free woman.

Would Aram think you were some sort of weird...public-dick thirsty trollop? Would you by chance encounter that sleek, suave dark gentleman in the elevator, or somewhere else in the cavernous verticality of your bank - or would you...work to ensure that you did?

How far were you willing to go?

You: Why, oh why am I so intensely horny lately?

Was it the season? Your most recent breakup catching up to you? Maybe -

-kssSSSst- NORTHAM AND DELAWARE

"SHIT!" You screech as you make for the doors, realizing that once again you'd missed your stop.