Travelling to work on the tube the other day I had a most unusual experience. Suited and booted, I was on my way to my office in the city, amidst the bustle and throng of London's rush hour traffic, and I happened to stand next to, indeed be tightly pressed against by the crowd, an incredibly beautiful woman. She was quite petit, with dark brown, shoulder-length hair, fair, creamy skin, wearing a grey power suit of stylish cut, a white blouse, and what I would only like to believe were delicate lace-topped stockings beneath her tight, knee-length skirt and heels. Her blouse was buttoned down quite low, and from my height above her I had a good view of her ample cleavage and the lacy black top of an expensive-looking silk bra.
Raised to be polite, I was trying not to stare, but couldn't help but steal the odd glance now and then as the tube bobbed and swayed along the tunnel. With each rattle and shunt she was thrown against me, and her delightfully wrapped bosom bounced against my lower rib cage tantalisingly. I could feel my penis growing uncontrollably, and was only thankful I had put on some quite tight-fitting boxers that morning, which would constrain me from popping right out and causing offence. However, as more people got on the train and she was pushed up harder against me, and I'm sure she couldn't but perceive the growing bulge in my trousers bucking against her midriff. Even worse, she kept catching me sneaking glimpses of her cleavage.
So I was eminently surprised when, without directly looking up at me, she actually seemed to pull her top down further, shuffling her figure provocatively as she did so. When she glanced up briefly into my eyes again, I was sure I detected in their subtle green hue a certain mischievous glint.
