Rush Hour

It was 7:15am and like every other morning she rushed down the crowded station steps toward the platform where she would await her train to work. The jacket of her business suit flattered every curve. She moved in and out of the crowd in her 3.5 inch stilettos as if they were Cross Trainers. A pro at this, she'd been making this commute every morning for the past 3 years, ever since she'd been hired as an Executive Assistant at the record label. This was her routine and even though some people would get frustrated with the monotony of it all, it never seemed to get old to her.

She positioned herself on the platform in the precise spot where the door would open directly in front of her and started to go over her schedule for the day in her head. She knew it was going to be a long day, with back to back meetings and then a PR event to attend in the evening. She was making mental notes, wanting to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything at home, when she saw the headlights of the train coming toward her. As the crowd started to move in closer to the yellow line she patiently waited for the train to stop and then then when it did--right where she knew it would--she stepped on. It seemed every single person around her was moving - rushed and frantic. She hated starting her day that way because once she got to work all opportunity for peace of mind was out the window. It was much easier to start the day in the same way that she hoped to end it. So while everyone else hustled she sashayed onto the train as if a red carpet was under her feet.

The doors began to close, a hundred people filling the hot train car. It seemed more crowded than usual this morning. People were packed shoulder to shoulder. Even though she got on first, she held on to the pole closest to the door so that she could be one of the first to exit when she reached her stop about 15 minutes later. Just as the door was about to shut all the way an arm reached in to hold it open and he got on.

He must have been running late this morning because he was usually waiting near her when the train stopped to pick them up. He was tall, dark, and way past handsome. He had hazel brown eyes and his salt and pepper hair was always lined up perfectly. She guessed he must have be in his mid 40's. They'd never spoken but the conversations they had between each other with their eyes spoke volumes. He looked at her as soon as he stepped on the train. People shifted inch by inch to try to fit him in and once the door was closed and the train was pulling off, he managed to position himself between her and an elderly woman who'd been left to stand while a group of teenagers occupied the seats across the aisle. The train left and more people got on at the first stop than got off. Before they reached the 3rd stop she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. He was easily 3 inches taller than her, but with her 4 inch Prada heels they were nearly cheek to cheek. The train was too packed for her to turn to reposition herself so she just stood still and waited. Stop number 6. She could feel his knee graze the back of her left leg every time the train wobbled. She'd decided not to wear stockings this morning with her skirt so there was no barrier. She felt herself being turned on by the contact of the material of his designer suit. The train shook and she could feel that he had shifted his body until it was almost directly behind hers. The train was still so crowded no one paid any attention to the fact that they were so close. She held on to the pole in front of her and tried to stay as still as possible so that her body did not move against his. He had another agenda. He'd been holding the strap above him but at the next stop moved his hand to her pole right above her hand. His hand touched hers and waves of electricity flowed through her body. T he train passed through a tunnel and the lights in the hot car flickered off. They remained off for about 45 seconds. She used the opportunity to shift a little as she could feel moistness building between her legs. As she moved, she felt him press his body against hers. She could feel his hard dick pressing against her ample ass. She knew it was intentional on his part and she didn't bother to move. She wanted to do more than feel his cock on the back of her skirt. Her pussy was wet and juices were already seeping through the thin material of the g-string she was wearing. She closed her eyes and held on to the pole tighter. She felt a hand creeping up the inside of her thigh and her knees almost buckled. No one noticed, as the lights came back on, that he had his hand up her skirt and was slowly caressing the wet lips of her pussy. She kept her eyes closed, careful not to move, careful not to change her facial expression. He stood closer behind her and dipped his fingers in and out of her tight cunt. When he massaged his thumb deep into her vagina walls and used his middle finger to rub her clit she couldn't take it anymore. The train jerked and she was pulled away from him as her pussy throbbed and she came right there, one stop before she was to exit. She didnt turn around to look at him. She could still feel his breathing on the back of her neck but he had stepped away far enough that she could no longer feel his body against hers. As the train came to a halt she straightened up the material of her skirt and rushed off toward the steps leading up to the street where she worked. She could only hope tomorrow's train ride would be as exciting.

Do you have fantasies of sex "in motion"?