Stories I Create On The Train

Man, it’s been a long week. Lazy day for me.

Everything in me focused on getting home though I couldn’t help checking out each person that stepped on the train.

Fatigue slowed my mind down, but the longer I watched people, the more my creativity tried to sit up and took notice. He’s a naughty beast, my muse. He’s been a bit sluggish though and he made only minimal effort even then.

I noticed the little things in my post-work haze. The tightness of her striped skirt that barely covered her ass, the cat-got-the-cream look on his face that made me wonder who he thought about, the people across from me who entered at different stops and talked with such animation… Sex. It all boiled down to what position I could picture them in.

No one inspired great stories in me though, apart from the gentle wondering. I figured my mind was just too tired from work to grasp on to anyone like normal.

My sleepy mind turned instead to the man I sat by on the plane last week. I’d been weaving a story about him that twisted and turned in my brain from the moment he sat by me. His careful, upper crust accent, his slightly wrinkled business attire, his frequent calls before we even took off, and his preppy looks made it all too easy to imagine a variety of things with him at the center.

He smelled clean and I fought the urge to lean over and place my nose against his neck during take off. Twice he mentioned taking the client out to dinner after their meeting if she was free. The hinting… The hopeful tone…

Mmm, an upscale hotel with clean white sheets that smelled of rose-water. Him opening the cuffs on his sleeves as she removed her earrings. They’d make some pretense of discussing business as the layers of clothes came off. His shiny leather shoes, her sensible work heels, his black belt, her necklace, pants, shirt, blouse, skirt. Hesitant to speak of what they were doing until nothing remained except silky black boxers and matching red bra and panties.

She’d release her chestnut hair from its twist and settle on the bed. Lips parting, legs parting, eyes smiling as she beckoned him close. They’d planned this for weeks and she didn’t want to waste one minute of their time together. Two days were all they’d have, but it would be enough.

His body would vibrate with need, his mind caught up in the wrongness that made their meeting so right. It’s the wrongness that would have him striding forward and ripping her panties away, and the total rightness that would make him push her back and press his mouth to her cunt. Tasting, savoring, lapping, swallowing sweet cream.

Now I’m horny…

Off the next stop. I gathered my stuff and got ready to get off (not how I wanted to, unfortunately). A bigger girl in blue scrubs who got on at the same time as I did stood up. I’d only spared her a quick glance earlier, but the moment she stood to go my mind sparked.

I exited to the left and she to the right, but already a story brewed with her in mind.

Next time…

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  2. Pingback: Stories I Create On The Train | Cara Thereon

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