Speaker 1: The train car swayed in that lurching, half empty rhythm
you only got after midnight. My head buzzed with three
too many margaritas and the low, thrumbing ache between my legs.
Girls night had ended an hour ago, but my body
hadn't caught up. Thighs pressed together under a tight pencil skirt,
the fabric clung. I was wet enough to leave a mark.
Doors hissed open. At Lexington. A young guy stepped on
twenty maybe twenty one, messy dark hair, jawline that could
cut through the dim fluorescent light. He glanced my way,
and his eyes snagged on the sliver of thigh I
hadn't bothered to cover. I smiled, not the polite kind.
He sat three seats away, trying not to stare failing.
Did you have a good night tonight? My voice came
out lower than I intended, raspy from tequila and shouting
over music. I crossed my legs and let the skirt
ride up another inch. Why are you here all alone?
He shifted on the yellow plastic seat. Night was a bust.
Didn't meet anyone. I bit my lip, held his gaze.
Then my fingers hooked under the hem of my skirt
and dragged it up until the damp heat of my
cunt hit the recycled air, hair thick and dark and glistening.
I didn't say a word, just watched his face. His
mouth fell open slightly. Well, you've met someone now. I
spread my thighs wider. The scent rose, salt and musk,
and kneed get down there and tongue that filthy thing out.
He didn't hesitate. Knees hit the gritty floor between my feet.
Hands slid up my calves, rough and warm. The first
lick was a flat, wide stripe from my slick hole
up to the hood of my clit. My hips bucked
hard enough to lift off the seat. A sound tore
out of me, half gasp, half growl. His tongue dug in,
lapping into the folds, tracing the lips where my hair
grew thickest. I gripped the edges of the seat. A
shiver rolled through my spine as he suckled into me,
mouth open, chin already soaked. The train rocked, steel wheels
screeching against the curve, and I ground against his face
without mercy. Every thrust of his tongue sent a bright
zap up to my belly. I wedged one heel onto
the seat next to my hip and lifted, tilting my
pelvis up so my asshole pressed toward him. The cool
air hit that puckered ring, and I reached down, parted
a cheek with my fingers. Eat that fucking chocolate cake
like it's your birthday. The boy moaned against me. Then
his tongue, a stiff point, probed my hole. My vision
whited at the edges. He speared inside, twisting, flattening, lapping
at the tight swirl. My free hand tangled in his hair,
shoving his face harder into the cleft. Oh fuck, I
was writhing now, a messy rut against his mouth, the
wet slap of it echoing in the empty car. He ate.
I rode, time went syrupy and slow. After what felt
like an age, I hauled him up by the collar
my turn. I unbuttoned his jeans with clumsy, eager fingers.
His cock sprang free, thick and already slick at the tip.
I wrapped one hand around the base and leaned in,
letting a long rope of spit drip from my lips
onto the swollen head. It strung down, connected me to him.
I licked it clean, swirled my tongue, tasted salt and
pre come. Then I opened my throat and took him in.
My nose pressed into the damp curls at his base.
I held there, breathing him in, before pulling back to
suckle the head. My other hand cupped his balls, rolling
the heavy weight, I lapped at the tender skin beneath,
tracing the seam with the flat of my tongue. I'm gonna,
he choked. I pulled off with a wet pop. No,
you're fucking not yet. I repositioned fast, one knee on
the seat, one leg bracing against the window. I swung
myself into a sixty nine, straddling his face while he
lay back. His tongue found me immediately lashing side to
side across my cunt, then dipping low enough to spear
my asshole again. Pleasure streaked through me like a fuse burning.
I groaned around his shaft, the vibration making him twitch.
I sucked him with purpose, cheeks, hollowing, head bobbing in
time with the train's clatter. But I wanted something dirtier.
My spit dripped down to his balls, and I followed it.
I slid my mouth lower, nudging his sack aside, and
then I gripped his ass cheeks and spread them wide.
A tight pink hole winked at me. I lowered my
mouth and traced a slow, wet circle around it. His
hips jolted. A sharp cry broke from above me as
I pushed my tongue in musky, clean sweat. I buried
my face and fucking feasted. He was licking my ass
at the same time. And for a long stretch we
were just two strangers, mouths buried in each other's most
private places, moaning into the filth. The sound filled the carriage, wet,
lewd urgent. I lifted my head, gasping, Right time to
fuck your chocolate cake. I stood, turned and bent over
the back of a subway seat. Hands gripped the cold
metal bar, ass arched high, skirt bunched at my waist,
everything exposed. He lined up behind me, spat onto my hole,
and rubbed the head of his cock through the mess.
The first push stole my breath, a burning stretch that
opened into a deep, relentless fullness. He didn't go slow.
He sank into the hilt, and I felt my inner
walls grip him tight. His hands snaked around my hip,
fingers finding my clit and pressing hard, grinding circles that
matched the rhythm of his thrusts. Fuck my ass. I
gasped harder. A fist tangled in my hair and yanked
my head back. My spine bowed. He pounded into me, balls,
slapping my wet cunt with every stroke, knuckles working my
clit in a merciless, frantic beat. The train lurched, and
he used the momentum to drive deeper. My vision dotted
with static pressure coiled low, white hot unspooling down my thighs.
I let go. My climax slammed through me in a
gush that spattered the floor between my heels. Liquid ran
hot down the inside of my legs, dripped onto the
grooved linoleum. I was crying out, voice cracking, and still
he fucked me, chasing his own end. Three more brutal thrusts,
and he buried himself deep. His cock pulsed, flooding my
insides with heat. He pulled out slow, and the suction
of it made a lewd smack. I stayed bent over,
feeling his thick seed trickle from my asshole. Liied down
over my pussy lips, trace the same path my own
release took until it pooled on the floor with a
soft patter. The train began to slow. A recorded voice
announced the next stop. He tucked himself away, zipped his jeans. Thanks,
he said, breath ragged. Then the doors opened and he
was gone. I dropped onto the seat, skirt still up, thighs,
glazed skin, humming. The mess beneath me gleamed under the fluorescence.
I didn't move. Three weeks later, my husband's voice pulled
me from the kitchen. They're here, the new neighbors. I
set down my coffee and wandered to the front window.
An suv idled in the driveway. Next door, A woman
climbed out, first, mid forties yoga toned. Then a man,
salt and pepper hair, unloading boxes. I was about to
turn away when a third figure unfolded from the back seat.
A young man, messy, dark hair, jawline i'd recognize anywhere.
He stretched squinting at the autumn sun, and for a
second he glanced toward our house. I felt that glance
like a thumb pressing into my pulse. My husband grinned.
Nice to see someone his age around, bit of a recluse.
Maybe I watched the boy the Sun hoist a duffel
bag over his shoulder. My lips curled, thighs pressed together.
A faint echo of that train floor, still slick in
my memory. Well, I murmured, tracing the windowpane with one fingernail.
Don't they just look like a delicious fucking family. Family.
I hoped you enjoyed today's sexy story. If you love
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want to hear. Maybe we can make your dirty dreams
come true. See you soon,