In Praise of The Bum (Or The Ass as Our American Cousins Call It)
I don't know what it was but the rocking of the underground train always had the same effect on me at the end of the day. It made me sleepy. Today I was dozing before the train got to the next station. Maybe it was the heat, the tiredness (and boredom) from my job. The half a bottle of wine at lunch time certainly didn't help.
I was oblivious to the train filling and emptying until we got to Waterloo. Even though I was dozing, hundreds if not thousands of commuting journeys had led to an inbuilt calculator as to where we where so that I didn't miss my station. Well there was the once, but I digress.
At Waterloo, someone stood on my foot. I woke and straight ahead of me was my idea of heaven. A tight, jean clad, perfectly formed and sized bum. I looked upwards and was greeted by a smiling blond looking over her shoulder and down at me. She smiled and silently said the word "sorry." She was probably in her mid twenties, attractive in a girl-next-door sort of way with shoulder length blond hair. She had dark blue jeans on and a simple white tee shirt.
I smiled back and tried to nonchalantly keep looking at her perfectly formed rear. It really was heaven on earth for me, a self proclaimed "bum man" who had perfected the art of lusting after female bums since my late teens.
Just as I was aware that I really should try and look elsewhere and stop imagining the beauty that was underneath the jeans, she turned around. I was now looking at her front. My eyes were level with her waist. As the train moved she reached up to the hanging strap which made her tee shirt rise an inch or two allowing me a glimpse of her flat stomach. She was obviously conscious of this and tried but failed to pull her tee shirt down, but realising this wasn't possible she allowed my view to continue uninterrupted. She certainly had no reason to be embarrassed as what she did show many girls would have been proud of; there was no hint of fat but neither was she a size 0. She looked perfect.
I looked up and as my gaze rose I saw the swelling of her breasts. Not enormous, but what seemed perfectly sized and in proportion to the rest of her. My gaze continued up and saw her face. She was oblivious to my wondering looks as she was absorbed in her music, the tell tale white ear phones leading to an IPod or phone she had in her bag that was slung over her shoulder.
"Damn," I had been caught. She looked down at me looking at her. She smiled at me. Had she seen me taking in this vision of her?
At the next station she again turned around to change hands holding onto the strap allowing me another period of staring and lusting after her bum.
My imagination started going into overdrive. What sort of underwear was she wearing? Briefs or a thong? What colour?
We were approaching my station. I had to get off but was aware that the thoughts and musings had led to a budding erection. Thankfully I was wearing some fairly loose trousers, but nevertheless I may be obvious having a semi stiffy. The fact that she was standing right in front of me so that when I stood up we would probably touch didn't lessen my concerns.
Wow, I was going to be saved. Her body language indicated she too was getting off at the next station. As the train was slowing down she turned to face the doors, allowing me a side on view of her. Those breasts really did look nice in profile.
I stood up behind her. Our hands touched as I grabbed the rail but she didn't flinch or move. On commuter trains it is something that happens. We are all used to it, but today there was a direct reaction from my hand to my groin. "Oh God no!" I thought as my semi hard erection became a notch harder.
The train stopped and I followed her out of the train. As all seasoned travellers know, you reduce all journey times by knowing where connections and exits are and at this station I needed to change to another line. The connecting corridor was right opposite the door of the train.
I followed her off the train, and without hesitation she went down the corridor opposite. She was going to do the same change as me. I hung back and silently cursed the people that got in my way, or should I say, got in the way of my view of her bum as she walked along the corridor. It swayed and wiggled in a most appealing way. "Oh my God," I thought. "You had better behave or you will be in trouble."
As she approached the platform for the connecting train, she turned left. The same way I would normally have gone, but in an attempt to behave and get real, I turned right. "There, problem solved, a fantasy for future use, but now lets get home," I said to myself.
I got off the underground train and made the next connection at the main line station as I continued my journey home, trying unsuccessfully to remove the vision on the girls jean clad bum from my memory.
Standing on the concourse waiting for the platform to be announced I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, the girl leaving the magazine store in the station. She was walking purposely towards the area where all the commuters waited; mindlessly looking up at the notice board waiting for the magic number to appear that would signal a rush to the platform for the next stage of their journeys.
She stopped about 10 yards in front of me and looked up at the departure boards. I had to, I couldn't help it, but I shouldn't have, however, once again my eyes were drawn, like a moth to a light bulb, to her bum. I had ogled thousands of female bums. I had been fortunate enough to hold, stroke and caress a fair number too. But, my God! This girl's bum was in a league of its own. Never ever will she have to say to a partner "Does my bum look big in this?" It would always look perfect. The cheeks were perfectly sized for a man to hold with desire and lust, stroking them and worshipping them. I was imagining rubbing oil into them, needing them and opening them to view the pleasures of her pussy and bum hole. Would she be shaved? Would she like anal? As my imagination started running away with itself, I imagined her on all fours, stroking her bum and imploring me to take her doggy style. I was also aware of the return of my erection.
She was moving. Those cheeks were going somewhere. I quickly looked up at the departure board and saw my train was leaving from platform 3. The same platform she was heading to. I followed her at a safe distance and noticed the carriage she was getting on. The same one I would normally use. But not tonight. I was going to be sensible and get on another one, even though it may add a few yards and maybe a minute to my commute as I would have to walk further from the train to the station exit when I reached my home station.
I managed to get a seat and immediately started mentally beating myself up for making such a fool of myself. What was I doing? What if I had been caught? It was clear I was lusting after her like an old pervert, unable to take my gaze, no not gaze, I was staring for gods sake! Unable to avert my staring at her. My God, I must be 25 years older than her! She was only a bit older than my eldest daughter!
Eventually the train pulled into my station and I hoped and prayed I wouldn't see her. Wouldn't see her perfectly shaped bum, tightly enclosed in those jeans, actuating the curves and teasing me with what was beneath the denim.
Well, too bad!
I did see her. Maybe 5 yards ahead of me, walking briskly up the steps making her bum look even better as her jeans stretched with her every movement. She walked through the turnstile, collecting her ticket indicating she was a regular commuter. Why hadn't I seen her before? After all commuters are creatures of habit. Day in, day out. Wherever possible, same train, same carriage, same seat.
She continued to walk briskly as I sauntered towards the car park, increasing the distance between us. I wanted to have another sneaky look, but thankfully Mr Sensible was now in charge of my brain, not Mr Dirty Old Man or Mr Lustful.
I saw her look into her bag and remove something. Car keys?
She slowed down and then next thing was that I saw her open the door of an old Ford Ka and get in. As though it was the most natural thing in the world I glanced between her car and the one next door, just as her long jean covered leg disappeared and she shut the door.
I meanwhile had already approached my car and realised that as we had parked so close together there was a very good chance we had been on the same train in the morning. I immediately made a mental note to catch the same train the next day. Why? What did I expect to achieve. Another hour or so of perving and trying to catch a glance of her? What if she didn't wear jeans? What if it was raining and she wore a long coat. What about me getting a grip and realising what I had was now turning into an infatuation.
