Next Stop, Orgasm

She sighed and shifted uncomfortably on high heels that looked fantastic, but provided very little actual ankle support when you get right down to it. Not for the first time, she cursed the overcrowding in her city that forced her to take this annoying subway to work every day. The people were rude, the crowds were thick and the smell of hundreds of hurried, overstressed people was something better left undescribed.

She turned up the volume on her iPod a bit more and adjusted the headphones. Beethoven's Sixth washed over her, painting its usual idyllic picture of a pastoral countryside gathering. Her mouth twisted bitterly with recriminations. I should never have left. I hate it here.

Hating wasn't getting her home, though. She brushed her hair absently out of her face and stared hopefully at the electronic progress bar on overhead display. Still six stops to go, dear god was this day ever going to end? All she wanted to do was get home, drop her clothes on the floor and head straight to a bath. And a drink. Not necessarily in that order.

In that instant the subway lurched hard and she lost her grip on the pole. She staggered backward and thumped solidly against another person. A restraining hand came down on her shoulder and she heard a deep rumbling voice: "Whoa, there."

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "Just lost my balance for a second."

"Yeah, those heels don't look too stable," he agreed. She could hear the grin in his voice. His other hand grasped hers, and guided it back to the support pole. "There you go."

She nodded. "Thanks." She peered at his reflection in the glass ahead. Tall, at least six and a half feet, skinny as a rail, dressed in suit and tie. And a fedora -- how many men still wore hats these days? It looked good on him, from what she could see.

Brakes screeched and the subway lurched hard again; this time it was he who was thrown against her, with a very surprised "Oof!". She snickered inwardly but gasped with surprise as his hands went to her waist and clenched hard, even dragging her skirt down a bit. A tingling bolt shot through her and she swayed with a new unsteadiness that had nothing to do with the subway. Oh no, not here. Not now. 

"We seem to be having trouble keeping our footing. Maybe you'd better keep holding on there," she heard herself saying, from a long way away. A tiny flame kindled inside her, her slit beginning to trickle wetness. She slipped the earphones down off her head, wanting to hear that voice again.

A rumbling chuckle. "Indeed? Perhaps you're right." His hands tightened a bit, one on her waist, one sliding down a bit to the fullness of her hips. He shifted a bit behind her as the bell bonged and the car stopped at the new station, the doors opening and letting a positive flood of people in. In seconds, they were packed in like sardines. She pressed hard against him, feeling wiry strength in his frame, in the confidence of his hands on her.

And something else, too. There was a very definite rigidity pressing against her ass now. She shifted experimentally and rubbed "innocently" against him, catching a muffled groan before he chopped it off. Another lurch as the car started off again only made things worse. She grinned wickedly, her mind clicking along rapid rails now just like the speeding car, no longer worried about propriety, only wondering how best to accomplish her new goal: getting him into her as soon as possible.

First, access. "Belt," she murmured, and after a shocked second she felt his hands undoing his belt. She wriggled against him, her hands going to her skirt, rucking it up a bit. Her eyes caught those of a businesswoman standing across the car; the woman looked stunned for a moment, then a knowing grin spread over her face. No interference there, obviously.

She wriggled some more, fingers tearing at her panties, sliding them down her legs, just far enough. There, that should do it. Now him. "Open up," she whispered; startled, the hoodie-wearing kid to her right swung around. "Say what?" he inquired, and she dismissed him with a wave of a hand. Behind her, the real object of the comment was doing as asked; she felt the heat of his cock pressing hard against her. She bent forward a bit but the angle was wrong. "In! In!" she hissed, no longer caring who heard, and felt him probing at her lips till suddenly everything aligned and he slid home.

God, it felt so good, so fucking good. She bit her lip to stifle the moans that wanted to escape; several people nearby were now turning to watch, most looking horribly embarrassed and turning away again. One or two were openly admiring, though, including the businesswoman across the way, whose mouth was parted in a sulky pout. Her breath was coming fast.

Their breath was coming much faster, though. He pressed home his length into her, moving within her in quick, short thrusts -- there just wasn't space for anything else. It was more than enough, though. She tightened her cunt against the invading flesh, milking it, massaging it; his hands on her waist, so powerful, pulling her hard against him, helping him drive himself deeper. He growled deep in his throat and that noise had half of the car looking this way.

"You ready?" he murmured into her ear, still moving relentlessly inside. "Yes, yes, now, do it," she whispergasped, and was rewarded seconds later with his burning cum splashing into her depths. Frantically, she worked a finger around to her front and strummed her clit hard, once, twice, three times; that was enough to send her over the edge as well and she shuddered all over, chills racing over her body.

The bell bonged and half the car exited at the next stop, all of them glancing at the guilty pair as they left. Again, lots of embarrassed looks, mixed in with a few admiring ones. The businesswoman, grinning, stopped at their side long enough to say, "That looked like fun," and then exited with the rest of the horde.

"Fun?" she mused, feeling him slip out of her, no doubt leaving smears of cum and her pussy juices all over her legs, her ass, her skirt. "Yes, I think you could say that." She pulled her skirt down again, but stepped out of her panties -- they'd slid down to her ankles anyway. She picked them up and met her paramour's eyes. Gray as stormclouds, they were, but sparkling with glee.

"Want these?" she inquired.

He nodded silently. She tucked them into his jacket pocket, and turned to face the window again. Just another subway ride, she thought. God, I hate this city....but I guess it does have its good points.

-- PB