Train Quickie

I'm masturbating in a train restroom, slowly and gently stroking my soaked and swollen clit. Every now and then my fingertips brush against my vaginal entrance; no more.

It isn't unusual for me to get off in a public restroom. But I'm normally very efficient, trying to finish as fast as I can so as not to keep anybody waiting. Yet today, I'm deliberately relaxing my thigh muscles and glutes, which by force of habit keep wanting to grind against my hand for maximum friction. I don't want to come too fast today. I want to enjoy this.

I accept that somebody might be waiting outside. In fact, it turns me on. At this pace, I could keep going for an hour, and nobody can do a thing about it.

I take the widest possible stance that the cramped stall allows, and lean backwards against the sink, looking at the ceiling and imagining a camera there. I imagine being watched by an entranced staff member, or filmed and posted on a porn site, this greedy slut who won't even hurry the fuck up.

I imagine you coming in the door, crowding the tiny room further. You take in the situation, your face hard. You ask me what the fuck I think I'm doing here. If I thought you wouldn't notice me sneaking off to play with my pussy. You drag my hand out of my pants, hold my wrists above my head with one hand, then grab my pussy with the other one, saying: I know this pussy far too well. I know how wet and greedy it gets. The swamp you find between my legs proves you right and you smirk. Five hours on a train without any fucking is just too much to expect from you.

You lock the door behind you, then reach under my shirt to squeeze my nipples. Isn't that right, babe? And with you touching me like that I don't care to disagree.

You draw it out, tugging and twisting both nipples gently as you watch me, and the additional lust it stokes in me feels like a punishment. Show me your breasts, you say, and I drag up my shirt, drag down my bra to reveal my soft pale tits with the stiff pink nipples. I look sideways at my reflection in the mirror and admire how slutty I look.

You place one hand against my throat, just holding me in place, keeping me staring up at the ceiling while you fondle my tits and then finally push down my pants, which leaves my ass naked to the cool sink and exposes my needy, wet cunt. I whimper gratefully at the first touch and you smirk at me.

You rub my plentiful juices around, fingers gliding wonderfully over my labia, my clit, and my vaginal opening, agonizingly slow ... After a bit of this, you bend down and take my nipple into your mouth, suck it, flick it with your tongue, graze it with your teeth. At the same time you start rubbing your hand quickly and firmly back and forth over my clit. Surprised, I cry and arch backwards over the sink, bracing for orgasm.

Instead you spin me around, bend me over the sink as much as possible in the tiny room, and before I know it I have your cock buried deliciously deep in my cunt, and you're rutting against me at a frenzied pace which makes clear that this won't take long. One hand is again holding me by the neck and the other palm, still slick with my juice, is pressed against my clit. As you begin to pound me, you pant into my ear: Don't thrust back. I'm in charge of fucking you. You just try to come. And as you say this you squeeze my pussy tightly from the front to leave no doubt what you mean.

So I try to grind my hips into your palm, chasing the slow, firm friction I need. Half the time it works, often enough to keep an unbroken string of moans rising from my throat. But your relentless pounding keeps throwing me off rhythm as you exploit my wet hole, and sometimes you move your hand away just to tease me. The result is that I move erratically, orbiting my orgasm in irregular, unpredictable spirals, hoping desperately with each new buck of my hips that I'll be able to come this time - but my climax stays just out of reach. My entire mind is bent on it now, just trying to get the pressure right for what feels like the one moment I would need in order to explode.

Another look in the mirror at the both of us, rutting like animals in the filthy train restroom, leaves me groaning helplessly and closing my eyes, overwhelmed by lust. That's when you lower your other hand from my neck and twist my nipple again, and I squeal. The triple stimulation at my cunt, clit, and nipple combines into a mind-blowing sense of finally being used as I was intended, and as usual, this thought pushes me over the edge. One more grind and I can feel it coming, oh god there it is; my hand instinctively clamps down on yours and holds it in place so I can grind through my climax, holding your gaze in the mirror even as my knees buckle. Meanwhile you're speeding up a last time, groaning into my ear; just as my orgasm begins to fade, you crash into yours, and I can practically see the fireworks going off behind your eyes as you shoot your load in my cunt.

**

I'm standing, alone and unobserved, in a train restroom, my hand covered in pussy juice and a wry smile on my lips. So much for taking my time - I doubt I lasted five minutes, all in all. Nobody will have noticed anything strange. But as I wipe up the fluid I know I'll be back. This fantasy needs writing down, and no doubt writing it down will make me horny again and require another masturbation session. As will editing it. As will uploading it. As will every goddamn comment by some stranger far away who will read it with a hand down their pants.