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Public TransportationI saw her at the bus stop on my way to work. She was reading a book and seemed largely indifferent to the rest of us gathering to wait. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder, a hooded jacket unzipped to the spring air, a button-down blouse, a mid-thigh A-line skirt and sandals. I kept glancing at her around the edges of my Metro. She wasn't traditionally beautiful, but she had a carefree easiness about her that I found appealing alluring.
We got separated when we got on the bus. It didn't really bother me as I go through every day watching women pass through my field of vision, drinking them in, developing my little five-second crushes. As the song says I'm a girl watcher, I'm a girl watcher, watching girls go by. My, my, my ... This is just how my life is.
When the we got to the subway station, the crowd pushed off the bus and hustled through the turnstiles. I spotted her yet again on the platform waiting for the train and decided to make my way near her. Just as I got in her vicinity, the train pulled into the station and the crowd rushed the doors.
Inside the car, to my surprise, I found myself crushed up against her. She just kept reading away, though, unaffected by the throng compressing around us. Standing there behind her, though, I couldn't help but be absorb by her. Her hair was just under my nose and I could breathe in the freshness of her scent. I closed my eyes and could fantasize that we were there, together, I could imagine wrapping my arm around her waist and just reveling in being hers and her being mine. I crush a lot, see, and this is what the affliction is like. I imagine being with most every attractive woman I see.
When the train started on its way, the initial thrust caused her to stumble back into me. There were no free overhead hand-holds, so she lost her balance pretty easily. I tried to raise my own free hand to catch her, but it hooked into the hem of her skirt. She looked at me, briefly, and apologized as she stood back up. She adjusted her backpack and resumed her reading, but my thumb remained under her skirt. She shifted a bit, and I felt the first delicious touch of her skin on mine. She froze for a moment, like she'd been shocked.
I wasn't sure exactly what to do next, and so I hesitated there, unable to move. I looked over her shoulder and saw her close her eyes for a long moment, then I felt her bottom twitch, almost imperceptibly. She bit her lower lip and she rose up on her toes a bit, tilted her hips, and rotated her ass slowly against my hand. I couldn't really believe she was doing this intentionally, but I had to enjoy the moment while I had it.
I rotated my wrist to face my palm toward her. As I did so, my fingers grazed the crease of her cheek meeting her thigh. When I did this, I was pleased to discover that I was mistaken in my thought that she was wearing a thong, she was in fact wearing no panties at all. My thumb was positioned perfectly at the tip of her tailbone and extended down into the crevice of what felt like a really magnificent backside. This moment was interrupted, though, by the train pulling into its next stop, the force of which separated us.
People behind me were pushing to get out, and so I wound my way to the front of the car to stand next to the wall. When I turned back around, the object of my infatuation was still there in front of me, having backed up to resume her position. She was able to gasp a hand-hold at this time and use it to steady her. As the train pulled out of the station, though, she pulled herself up and pushed back so the her ass was placed ever so gently back in the palm of my hand!
I began tracing her bottom in earnest, now, knowing that I was being given permission. I had been tentative in my touch the first time, but now, not knowing how long we'd have together, I began to explore more aggressively. Being back against the door, there was no one to see what we were doing, so I boldly reached down between her thighs. The moisture I found there was the last bit of confirmation I needed to know that she was doing this quite intentionally.
I traced a finger over her sealed vulva as I imagined what they looked like. As I got near her hood, her lips parted like a chrysalis opening for the butterfly to emerge. I slipped my index finger inside her and it went in smoothly slickly. With my middle finger, I found her clitoris and began to flick at it with my fingernail. She dropped all pretense of reading at this and just leaned back and closed her eyes. She remained silent, though, thus arousing the interest of none of our fellow commuters.
I could feel her legs becoming unsteady. Her thighs were quivering and I could see sweat forming on her forehead. Her lips parts and she gasped slightly as her whole body tensed. My hand was trapped between her thighs, momentarily, while the tension slowly eased from her body. She sighed and relaxed a bit, then stood up, smoothed her skirt, and exited as soon as we pulled into the next station. When she walked by the car, she looked in, briefly, a slight smile on her face, as I raised my hand to my mouth and tasted all that I kept of her.
Then she was gone.
End of Story
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