This is my first contribution to the Literotica, so I hope you enjoy it!
A big THANK YOU to Heinekitty for editing this for me! You're a star!
Copyright © 2011, Erotic Nytes. ALL Rights Reserved.
No portion of this story may be reproduced for profit without the express, written permission of the author.
This story is a work of fiction.
*
The journey home from the office was always long. Sara Lima undid the top two buttons of her white blouse revealing the swollen golden arches of her 34E breasts. It was a fiercely hot summer's day and her chauffeur service, courtesy of London underground aka the northern line, was ill-equipped to accommodate their customers. In fact, the poor excuse of an air conditioner on this carriage wasn't even blowing in the warm air she had now become accustomed to. Beads of sweat dripped down Sara's long tanned neck, and ran down her chest to disappear between her red-lace cradled globes.
She, like everyone else, was hot. Though she wouldn't complain; it reminded her of home. Sara was born in Havana, Cuba to her Cuban and English parents but moved here when she was young; not young enough to forget her fiery roots though. It didn't help that she had the most inconsiderate man sitting beside her, squashing her into the corner of the carriage because he needed to put his bag on the chair beside him.
She wrapped her slender fingers around the back of her neck and pulled up her waist length silky black hair. Taking the hair band from around her wrist, she arched her back in an attempt to get more room to wrap her hair in to a rough knot. Unintentionally, she was giving everyone the chance to get a better look at her heaving breasts. She didn't even notice the people looking willingly and unwillingly at her more than ample bust.
Sara slumped back into her seat. Bored out of her mind, she sat daydreaming. She had no book to read, had left today's business reports on her desk, and hadn't bothered to take one of the free newspapers. Her trusty iPod was dead to the world because she hadn't charged it for the last few days. She'd already read the nutritional details on the side of the 2 litre bottle of water twenty plus times; Evian just isn't that interesting.
But the majority of the journey was over, only 10 more of the 29 stops to go before she could hit the shower, spruce herself up and meet the girls for Friday night drinks. After 8 hours in the office her mind started to drift on to what she'd wear tonight as she danced the night away.
At 23 years old, she was an elegant Cuban beauty: the kind of girl that oozes sex without knowing she was. She knew how to accentuate every part of her. The pure white dress she planned on wearing tonight would hug her supple breasts, the neckline just cut above her rose pink areola; it would pinch in at her 25" waist line; would ride down her curvy 39" hips and have a long slit up revealing 28" of at least one of her 33'' inch golden, slender legs: topped off with some pretty red heels.
Her great-grandmother was BBW, her grandmother is curvy, and her mother voluptuous and she is her mother's-mother's-mother's child. Her exotic looks and voluptuous figure always attracted the attention of others: her friends found it very amusing when men and women wrestled for her attention.
'Thank God it's Friday!' for a second, she'd forgotten where she was.
"Were you speaking to me?" the voice of a southern American tenor came from above.
She looked up to see two men standing above her. They looked back at her with the most stunning blue eyes she had ever seen. Both men smiled a smile that was almost identical to the other. Locking her hazel eyes with the azure blues of the guy standing directly in front of her, Sara shook her head and opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Embarrassed, she quickly averted her eyes from his. Her mind was racing. When did she suddenly lose the ability to speak?
Not that she was looking or anything, she thought they looked like family. They did seem to have the same smile and similar faces. She was just curious to see who it was that had her acting a complete fool, or that's what told herself. She was never made speechless by anyone. Trying not to look too obvious, she studied them both.
The one to her left is gorgeous: wide lush lips, strong nose, smouldering eyes. He reminded her of the Coca-Cola advert guy but not a pretty boy: rugged and manly and sexy. Sara couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to run her fingers through his dark brown hair, that had a sort of 'just woken up' look to it, without the grease. His eyes a piercing blue, the colour of a stormy sea, wide shoulders with a thick firm barrel-like chest to go with his thick firm arms; all covered by a short sleeved t-shirt and rather snug around the bum cargo pants. She could have eaten him right up; she blushed at the thought of it.
The other, however, was the one that had her embarrassed to look up again. Standing directly in front of her, his azure blue eyes seemed to be probing into her very soul or more like, lighting a fire in her red lace covered pussy. His hair slicked back into a short ponytail; soft blonde. His face was as gorgeous as the other guy but with the exception of the lips. His lips curved up ever so slightly at the ends, giving him a cheeky smirk. His arms looked strong and not too thick, his chest broad and his legs long: athletic build. He was around about 5"11; probably two to three inches shorter than his brother. He wore a white vest, khaki green shorts and every bit of naked skin she could see was tanned to perfection.
Both men couldn't have been more than 4-5 years older than her. Sara caught herself hungrily licking her full sensual lips as she named the two guys. Rugged: tall, dark and dangerous. Perfection: suave, smouldering and unnaturally sexy. That's what she'd call them.
The man that had been pinning Sara in the corner got up to leave the train and someone else had taken her seat.
"You know, you didn't actually answer my brother's question"
A low baritone flavoured with the same Southern American accent addressed her.
She looked to the seat next to her to see that it was in fact Rugged. He looked deep into her eyes causing poor Sara to shift nervously in her seat with embarrassment.
"Umm...sorry," she smiled weakly at him and then looked up at Perfection to pass on her deepest apologies. His attention had been stolen by his desperate attempt to stay standing as passengers were trying to use every bit of space to wedge themselves onto the carriage. She watched his long toned arm holding onto the bars in front of him giving her the best view of his body; he looked too good for words.
What the hell was she so sorry about anyway, she did answer his question...well, sort of. Sara tried to find somewhere else to look.
"So were you?"
From the corner of her eye, she could see Rugged was grinning from ear to ear. Trying to shift her focus on to anything else but him, she didn't notice his gaze moving from her eyes, to her lips, to her cleavage. Sara turned to meet his gaze which he rapidly met with an innocent look on his face. She hadn't realised what he was up to.
"I wasn't speaking to anyone." She barely heard her own voice over the racing of her heart. She turned away again.
She hoped he hadn't thought her rude. Every part of her body seemed to be red hot and she's decades away from hot flushes. The unmistakeable throbbing of her clit was echoing the pounding of her heart. Reaching down into her bag, she pulled out her dead iPod; jamming the earphones into her ears in the hope that they'd think she was now listening to music. From the corner of her eye she saw Rugged sit back in his seat. Sara breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
For the next 7 stops, not a word was spoken between her and the men. Every so often she would steal a look at the guys. Perfection would flash a smile at her when he caught her staring; a perfect pearly white smile that was causing her golden cheeks to glow a red hue. Sara was grateful for the raging heat of the train, otherwise her obvious embarrassment would have been just that, obvious!
Rugged wasn't so subtle: his stormy blues seemed to be searing her skin and she could feel him staring down her top. She made no effort to button up her blouse: she kind of liked it. It was dirty and thrilling and the thing is she knew that if anybody bothered to look, they would be able to see him leering at her breasts. Her nipples were stiffening at the thought and her pussy was on fire. She was being ravished by Rugged's lust-filled eyes and with only a smile, Perfection was setting off a chain reaction in her body she was finding hard to conceal.
The train stopped at the next station and yet more passengers were pushing their way onto the train. Perfection nearly fell forward on to her and that's when she noticed it. Lying like a steel pipe down the right leg of Perfection's shorts was the imprint of his dick. She followed the semi-erect shaft down his leg. Gazing longingly at the cock; her mouth salivated at the sight. Her pussy juices were soaking her underwear and running out of her down the crease of her bum. Straightening in her seat, she tried to disguise the rolling of her hips that she needed to hush her quivering clit.
Rugged leaned in, and lightly tugging the earphone from her ear, he whispering softly in her ear, "Did that feel good?"
He couldn't have really known what she just did, could he? Sara looked down into the palms of her sweaty hands. She didn't want to think it but was she really getting turned on by two men on a train during rush hour. Pushing the earphone back in her ear, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the dull, steady sound of the train. With her eyes closed and her hearing dulled, there was nothing to do but be gently lulled to sleep.
Sara was awoken by the deafening sound of silence. It's not the best sign to get when you had closed your eyes to the sound of a busy, moving train. Sara opened her eyes to darkness; before she could even start to panic an announcement from the train driver was made. Pulling the earphones from her ears, she heard the driver apologising for the inconvenience and saying that yet again there was some kind of signalling failure a few stations away and that they would be waiting in the tunnel for a while.
"Don't' worry," the train driver assured everyone. "We'll soon be pulling into Colindale."
Colindale! Sara gritted her teeth and ran her hand over her hair. It was the only thing she could do to stop herself from shouting the profanities that was ready and waiting to roll off the tip of her tongue. Colindale is her stop and as usual London transport is at a standstill for some reason or another.
It started out stereotypically English; there were tuts and sighs of dismay or something equally as quiet. Then the real London kicked in and what was virtual silence, turned into vibrant and colourful chatter. Moaning, cursing, inane chatter about random stuff and of course we had to be trapped with some twats that thought this was the moment to turn the dark carriage into a club. Blaring out of the tinny speakers of what sounded like several cell phones, but was probably only three, was a mixture between Kylie, Snoop Dogg and whatever indie band was the flavour of the month. Great, just great...
"So tell me, why are English girls so uptight?"
It was Perfection
