Straphangers

“‘… wear that short skirt I adore, love, the one with the buttons up the back… and no, I repeat, no knickers… we’re going someplace special, sweetheart. Get on the Pelham 510, I’ll meet you on the third car from the front… See you then, love…’”

He always left the most interesting messages on my phone.

*****

I waited on the platform, a stiff breeze from the tunnel wafting around my legs and up my skirt. The commuters of Friday evening rush hour thronged around me, oblivious to each other and myself, bodies bumping into me constantly in their haste. I absently looked at my watch to avoid anyone’s eye contact, and thought about Orlando’s message… God only knew what that man had planned, but the fact that I was waiting for a New York subway train wearing no underwear and a skirt up to HERE had to be a testament of my love for him, in a perverted, oblique way… but then, Orlando Bloom could tell me to jump from the Brooklyn Bridge, or play in traffic on the Cross Bronx, and I would, gladly, silly girl that I am…. My body warmed with a tingle, thinking of the other night. His hand tangling in my hair as he fucked me from behind; my screams as I came in his arms; and our steamy shower afterwards, when he backed me up and onto the sink, screwing me silly as my ass sat amidst spilled lotions and liquid soap. Damn horndog… one of the myriad things I adored about that man. Anytime, anywhere, anyplace…

The 510 pulled to a hissing, steamy stop, and I fought the milling horde to the third car, wedging myself in and grabbing a strap frantically when the train jolted back to life. My eyes searched for him, but Orlando wasn’t to be seen. Damn it. I knew somehow he’d find me, but still, I felt lost. I nearly jumped through the metal roof when finally a pair of arms encircled my waist, and a warm body pressed its length against my back. It was him. I’d know that heat anywhere. How he got to me, I had no idea; we all were squashed in like so many sardines. I started to turn my head back to his, when he nipped at my ear and whispered,

"Hello, love…”

I smiled, looking down at his hands clasped below my breasts. “Hello, yourself.”

“God, you look so hot in that skirt. But then,” he breathed, “you look hot in anything and nothing, sweetheart.” One of his hands left my waist, and a moment later showed up again… on the high part of my thigh. I shivered, at the same time feeling a thrill of panic at his little spectacle in front of all these people. He was close enough to me, though, and wearing an unbuttoned overshirt that hid his hand from view. But still…

“Orrr – liiii,” I protested weakly, knowing that I couldn’t refuse this man anything. My nipples hardened under my white t-shirt as his hand slid up to squeeze my ass.

Orlando bit my earlobe. “Shhh, love. You want me to fuck you in public, don’t you? Admit it. Tell me you want it, right here, right now.”

That voice that could melt butter was melting me… My eyes quickly scanned the sea of New Yorkers, noticing that each and every one was deeply engrossed in their own agenda. I had a feeling that our agenda would be much more fun…

I gasped as his fingers worked their way between my legs, sampling the honey dripping from my cunt with an insistent and seductive touch. “Yes… fuck me. Here. Now. Please...”

He laughed softly, a wicked, throaty one that made me shake. His fingers left my cunt, both hands gripping my hips as he pulled my ass against his ramrod-stiff cock. Even a layer of denim couldn’t hide that gorgeous erection. “You look like a tart in that skirt, love. A hot little tart. My little whore. You get me so bloody hard…” The buttons on the back of my skirt were being slowly undone by his expert fingers. Another thrill went through me; he was going to fuck me, amongst all these people, and as secretly as possible. Naughty boy. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how I was going to keep a poker face through it. “Say it. You’re my little whore,” he commanded in the barest whisper, his lips brushing my neck.

“I’m – I’m your little whore,” I ground out, swallowing a moan when his cock ground against my ass again. God damn him, I could almost feel my wetness beginning to drip down my inner thighs. He made me so wet, continually wet. It was unnerving… but sooo addicting.

Orlando had freed all but the top and bottom buttons, leaving a hole in the back of my skirt that his hand slipped through. My ass was caressed as his other hand popped the buttons on his fly. “That’s right, love… you are my little whore… begging to be fucked in front of all these people, can’t wait ‘til we get home… need my cock now, don’t you…” He was panting now, breathing heavily on the skin just behind my ear as he spoke. My knees started to buckle in hunger for him. God almighty, we were definitely going to be kicked off of here, because screaming orgasms were his specialty. Fucking hell…

That hot cock of his that I couldn’t wait for was now sliding under my ass and between my thighs, slick from my juices. He lifted me up slightly, causing me to grab higher on the strap, and I stifled a moan as Orlando suddenly angled up and penetrated deep, his thick length stretching my tight cunt to its limit. Holy fuck, he felt so good… I bit back another moan when he began to move within me, slowly thrusting, going with the irregular rocking of the train so as to disguise his actions. Each time his cock plunged upward to the hilt, I shivered at the fullness…

As I gave myself to the adrenaline rush of being found out, and the titillation of getting away with it, the train stopped; I was abruptly yanked backwards by Orlando, his cock still buried inside my cunt. A seat had opened up behind us, and Orlando had gone two steps backwards and pulled us both into a sitting position in it, joined at the hips, him sitting with me on top of him. Problem was, I was facing the rest of the straphangers wearing a skirt that desperately needed to be held down in front, and a beautiful man holding me by the hips and fucking me senseless. Straight face? Yeah, right. No problem.

“Fuck me, love. Suck my cock off with that delicious, sweet cunt of yours.” He cut through my momentary distraction with that breathy demand in my ear, and I knew what he wanted. I tensed and my inner muscles clenched around him, squeezing his rock-hard cock. Orlando groaned low and gripped my hips in a steel grasp, forcing his cock to push even deeper. I kept up a steady rhythm, clutching at him like a hot, velvety, wet hand, trying to take his cock in yet further. I wanted all of him, every inch of him.

“Oh, god, love, like that… You know I love it when you do that, oh,

fuck

… Your little whore trick, isn’t it… Ohhh…

yeah

….” In the midst of a clutch from my cunt walls, he came, biting my neck to stave off his growl of release. His cock convulsed with each spurt, the spasms almost splitting my packed, stretched cunt in two… I came unbelievably hard, the always-loud yell from my lips muffled by his sudden kiss, his hand turning my head to his. Orlando sucked my tongue as the wracking jolts coursed through me, fire in my veins…

We finally calmed down enough to snuggle against one another, me craning my neck back to look into his eyes and smile at the mischievous grin which lit up his face. Stroking a hand into his soft cocoa-colored curls, I nipped his neck and whispered, “You evil little bastard. I love you so damn much.”

“Love you, too. D’you think anyone saw us?”

Looking up, Orlando and I examined the crowd, expecting to find transit cops making a beeline for us. No, nobody had seen us… Orlando then nudged me. There was one. A short, wizened old woman…

… who winked at us and smiled.