Riding on the train is a favorite moment of mine.
It’s funny that I would like it, considering the crush of rush hours. It’s strangers pressed impossibly close to one another, breathing each other’s air, and pretending ignorance at the feeling of body parts touching so intimately.
But what I love about it is the moment I snag a seat and someone steps in front of me to grab a rail above. As the train starts, their grip tightens, and they do something that always draws my gaze. They widen their stance and send my imagination into overdrive.
After my visit to the esthetician for my wax, I was especially squirmy and aware. I managed to slide into an empty seat when a sea of people exited just as a guy stepped in front of me and grabbed the overhead rail. He was cute, or he was to me. Bronze tan, blonde hair recently cut if the break in his tan at the hair-line was any indication, and brown corduroy pants that fit him well. I think his eyes were blue, but honestly I didn’t look. What I did fixate on was his waist as it came level with my eyes.
Be subtle. I have to coach myself to rein in my thoughts, but the train starts causing him to open his legs for balance. I can’t help thinking about is all the things I can’t do on the full train.
I can’t lean forward and trace the outline of his cock through his jeans, I can’t unzip him and get a good look at the length of him, and I definitely can’t feel the girth of him stretching my mouth wide.
I imagine how he’d sound as he slid into the wet warmth of my mouth. It would be that low, sexy groan that men make when they feel something awesome. He’d sink his blunt tipped fingers into my braided hair and tug with each suck. Tug so hard my eyes would tear up, but I’d hum around him begging for more. He wouldn’t care who watched, his hips canting forward erratically the whole time.
The benefits of darker skin is my flushed face is hidden, but I can’t help my shifting or my soft sighs. I want to feel him so bad I can taste it, taste him on the back of my tongue. Would I satisfy that urge if it were just us there? Would he let me?
He meets my eyes before he gets off the train and for a moment I feel like we share the fantasy.
Blue; his eyes are blue, and I know I’ll think about that color later when I slip between my sheets.