I rushed across the white tiles of the train station, weaving in and out of the confused-looking tourists who had just arrived and were still staring at their maps and guidebooks.
I walked onto the deserted tube platform and looked left and right. The display said the train would be coming in five minutes. In the years I had been living in London, I had become horribly impatient, such that five minutes was an intolerable wait. I sauntered to the end of the platform where I knew the subsequent carriage would have free seats.
Wandering the length of the platform, I noticed someone was sitting at the far end on a bench. As I approached, I saw a pair of slender crossed legs and by the time I reached the bench I was able to take in the beauty of their owner. She was a tanned, Latin-looking girl, possibly Spanish or Italian, with shoulder length wavy black hair, and green eyes. I smiled at her as I sat down on the opposite end of the bench, and she looked up at me from her book and smiled briefly.
Unfolding my newspaper, I glanced to my left again. She was wearing a pair of brown sandals and a sky-blue floral dress that stopped just above her knees. In the occasional gusts of wind from a nearby tunnel, her hair bounced around her shoulders, grazing the pale beige cardiagan she was wearing to guard against the inclement weather above ground.
While reading the news, I could not help but admire her long, smooth, tanned legs. She would occasionally flex her slender muscular calves as if performing a moderate yoga exercise. My glances were insufficiently discreet, as in between page 15 and page 16 of the international news section, as I turned to admire her thighs again, but felt a pair of eyes looking at me. I looked up and realised I had been caught. In these situations, I always brazen it out. I flashed her a cheeky grin and maintained eye contact without saying anything. She grinned and returned to her book, but as she did so, she pulled the hem on her skirt up along her thighs, exposing more of her shapely leg to me.
I felt my cock stiffen at the sight, but tried to make it less obvious that I was watching her. I returned to my paper, but out of the corner of my eye I saw it again: she pulled the hem up another inch and stole a glance in my direction. I looked again at her and saw that half of her thigh was now exposed to my view. Momentarily transfixed, I felt those deep green eyes on me. I had been caught again. I decided to break the silence.
‘It’s very hot in here isn’t it?’ I asked.
‘Yes, she said, even when it’s cool above ground, the tube in summer is so hot.’ She spoke in a soft and slow voice, slightly deeper than many women, but with a clear Spanish accent.
We both smiled at each other: colleagues in the sufferance of a London summer.
As we were talking, she reached down and yet again pulled the hem of her skirt up without taking her eyes off me. She looked down at her long dark thighs and then up at me coyly. She tilted her head to one side in a flirtatious gesture and smiled and kept her fingers tips on the edge of the hem. My cock twitched again inside my jeans and my eyes widened. This was no accident. My new Spanish friend was teasing me on the deserted tube platform.
As I returned to the paper, I felt the warm draught of air from the oncoming train. I folded my paper to avoid it getting blown around in the draught. I looked to my left once more and saw my Spanish friend had taken her fingers off the hem of her dress and it was now fluttering loosely in the back-draught. Not quite a Marilyn Monroe moment, but the hem was fluttering wildly and exposing ever more of her thighs. Our eyes met again and she winked at me quickly.
We both stood up and walked to the carriage door. I realised that the excitement of being teased by a sexy Spaniard had made my cock harder than I realised. The bulge in my trousers was slight but certainly noticeable to anyone who looked at my trousers. We stood back from the doors as a stream of travellers disembarked, with my Spanish beauty standing close to the doors, and me right next to her.
As the last of the passengers left the train, I felt a hand glance down to my crotch, and gently touch my stiffening cock through my trousers. In the rush of travellers, I had for a split-second thought it could have been somebody’s bag brushing against me, but when I looked down, I saw her hand linger for a moment, and then return to her bag before she stepped on board. Not content with teasing me with her thighs, she had just taken advantage of the crowded tube platform to cop a feel.
My idea of an empty carriage proved overly-optimistic. The backlog of passengers who had not been served for five minutes made the train quite crowded. I rushed right after the Spanish woman, and went straight for an empty seat at the end of a row. As I looked up, I noticed that she was sitting directly in front of me. We both smiled at each other again, and as the train started moving again, I looked at her legs again, from the front this time. I was doing my best to be discreet about it, looking over the top of my paper. My teasing Latin lady was still reading her book, but I noticed her slowly part her legs after a minute or so.
Again, I was unsure if she was just getting comfortable on the seat, but when she saw me look at her she again smiled and without taking her eyes off me, she tugged the hem of her skirt upwards again, and parted her knees once more. For the second time in less than ten minutes, my eyes widened. This must have been obvious as I could see her laughing silently to herself at the reaction she had provoked in me. The other passengers were oblivious to what was going on, immersed in their kindles or controlling their garrulous children.
After another stop I looked up again at my fellow traveller. This time, she was waiting for me. After looking at her inner thighs, I looked up at her and she smiled once more.
‘Very hot,’ she said to me over the roar of the train.
‘Yes, very hot,’ I agreed, as it became clear that we had long ceased thinking of the temperature on the tube network. After each station, my little tease would open her legs just a little further, exposing her inner thighs a little more. My stiffening cock twitched hard, when I looked up and saw the crotch of her white cotton panties. This certainly beats reading the newspaper or staring at the ads for mobile phones and holiday insurance, I thought to myself.
At the next station, a new deluge of people poured onto the train. As I was sitting at the end of a row of seats accessible only from one end, I was glad I had already gotten my seat, but I looked up and saw a pregnant lady, sweating and clearly exhausted from shopping. I looked around at my fellow passengers, expecting those nearest the door and the pregnant lady to offer her a seat. The gormless morons nearby looked at her, clearly registered she was pregnant but refused to offer her a seat. The rudeness made my blood boil, but I decided to offer the woman my seat.
‘Excuse me madam, would you like to sit down?’ I said.
The flustered pregnant woman looked up at me in gratitude. I stood up and she made her way past the rude bastards who wouldn’t so much as move their bags for her to pass by. She took my seat with a smile and collapsed into it in exhaustion. She was easily in her eight month.
On standing up I grabbed a railing in front of my Spanish friend, but realised that my erection was now too big to hide. In my rush to be gallant, I had forgotten that my cock was now swollen from looking at the long legs and sexy smile of the lady in front of me.
I bent over slightly so it would not be obvious that my cock was sticking out of the fabric in my jeans. The Spanish tease looked at me with a grin as I stood in front of her and then looked down at my crotch before looking up at me. She was clearly pleased with what she had done.
I turned away from the rest of the passengers so that only the tease and the pregnant lady would have been able to see my erection poke through my trousers. Mercifully, the pregnant lady was reading a book, so it was only the Spaniard who noticed my excitement.
At the next station, the Spaniard suddenly got to her feet. I felt a pang of disappointment that she was leaving, mixed with a sense of relief that I might get her seat where my erection would be less obvious. But as she grabbed her bag, she once more took advantage of the disorder of people disembarking and getting on. This time her hand did more than glance across my crotch. It rubbed my cock for two or three seconds through the fabric. She then stood on her toes and whispered in my ear:
‘I’m getting off here. Come with me.’
I didn’t need a second offer. I grabbed my bag off the floor and followed her, holding the paper in front of my crotch to avoid everyone having to look at 8 inches of stiff cock trying to escape from a pair of jeans.
We were the last ones to emerge onto the platform and a stream of passengers shuffled ahead of us onto the escalator. My Spanish tease walked alongside me, and when the train had moved away, she introduced herself.
‘I’m Miriam,’ she said.
‘I’m Robert,’ I replied, offering her my hand to shake in my best impression of somebody in a Hugh Grant movie.
As I offered her my hand, I put my paper into my bag, exposing the massive erection in my trousers. She shook my hand, but then looked down at my crotch.
‘Perhaps you could keep your paper where it was until we get to my place,’ she said.
‘Good idea,’ I said, laughing, not quite believing what she had just said.
She laughed as well, flashing a pair of brilliant white teeth and revealing dimples in her tanned cheeks.
As we exited the tube station, we crossed the road and walked north.
‘I live just up the hill,’ she said, motioning with her long slender fingers. The first whips of a June wind rushed against us, and Miriam buttoned up her cardigan. We continued walking, past the Poundlands and mobile phone shops that constitute the native commercial fauna of London’s less moneyed neighbourhoods.
