Trains 2

She liked to watch the surprised look on their faces when she touched them.

She got on during the rush hour press. A crowd of humanity surged through the doors and packed themselves into the trains. She picked her target on the platform while waiting and followed him through the doors when the train came to a stop. She liked variety. Sometimes it was a young businessman, gray suit, white shirt with tie, folded newspaper. Sometimes a college student, loaded down with books and stressed to the edge for midterms or finals. Or a hard hat, tired from walking the steel in the skyscrapers, armed with tool belt, coffee thermos and lunch pail.

How did she make her choice? That eludes me still. Did she keep a tally and venture out with a specific target in mind or was it a random choice, a mental flip of the coin? When she had found him though, the light came into her eyes. The hunt was on. She moved through the throng with a skill derived from experience. She arranged to be facing him when the closely pressed crowd settled itself for the ride. Avoiding any greetings, as most train riders, she looked aimlessly around the car as the train moved away from the platform.

At the next station, she would allow the new influx of people onto the train to push them closer together, then she might exchange a quick smile and look away. Allowing her arms to hang at her side, she would brush the back of her hand against the front of his trousers and judge his reaction. Was it accidental? Often they would seek confirmation through eye contact but she ignored them, heightening the game. Then her hand would accidentally return and begin feeling for his cock. She would watch the reflection of his face in the windows of the train.

When his cock had hardened from her rubbing she moved slowly to his zipper. Would he balk as she slowly unzipped him? Would he allow her to take out his cock on this train packed with hundreds of people? The variations of response were intoxicating. Would he extricate himself and move away? Would he attempt to flirt, or would he become engrossed in watching the walls of the tunnel rush by?

Still not looking directly at him, she would press closely to him, rub a breast against him, and pull him out of his pants, disengaging cock from underwear, carefully passing the zipper to avoid starts of agony, making necessary adjustments to allow for comfort, slowly stroking his length or playing with the head with her fingertips as his cock got harder and harder in its newfound freedom.

As they reached a station, she would shield them from view by pressing close and rubbing him against the front of her skirt. The silk material made it immediately obvious that only this thin barrier separated them. Sometimes, despite her best efforts, the journey was over all too soon. When the head of his cock nestled into her cleft with only the thin masking, occasionally it was too much and the cock swelled and splurted streams onto her dress. If this happened, she would turn and debark with the crowd, leaving him to recover his dripping dignity. But if all went as planned, she resumed her manipulations as the train resumed its journey. Quite often this went on for many stops, stroking hard or teasing as he became anxious to cum. Thrilling her again as he tried to cover up the impending explosion or thrust his hips along with her strokes, oblivious to the other passengers at this point.

Finally, when she was ready, when his cock was throbbing, about to explode, she would allow him to shoot. Sometimes she would take it in her hands. Sometimes on her clothing. Sometimes she would aim him at other passengers like a fire hose. Spilled milk shake? Some wet discharge from the train perhaps? Or maybe a flight of errant subway dwelling pigeons leaving their mark.

Carefully timed, when the door opened at the station she would walk off leaving him to rearrange himself. Quite often he had missed his stop.

A fantasy you say? I know this to be true. I take the same trains she haunts. I watch her as she makes her selections, does her preparations and accomplishes her objective.

Look! There she is now, scouting the crowd. I think today she's settled on that businessman. No, she's still looking. She's turning this way. She's seen me watching her. I see a familiar glint come into those black eyes. She smiles.