We rushed into the packed A train heading downtown from 145th and St. Nick. Packed in with the other Monday morning commuters, we both were tired and didn’t want to face the day ahead. Nobody on the train wanted to be heading to work and everybody looked like they could use another 2 hours of a sleep. I knew I could use the extra sleep as my incessant coughing kept both of us awake last night.
But I had none of the tension I normally keep in my shoulders thanks to the full body massage you gave me last night. “Do you want me to use the oil you?” whispered while I was lying on my stomach. You hands, scented with the clean smell of tea tree leaves, stroked my body, releasing built up tension in my arms, my hands and especially in my shoulders. Rhythmically, your hands glided over my calves, knees and the back of my thighs as weeks of build up tension and stress escaped.
We fell asleep to the sound of me coughing and the urban soundtrack of sirens, arguments and loud music being played by the homies on the corner. The heat from your body causing me to literally wake up in a sweat.
We got dressed for our roles in corporate America. Me in a black power suit for the evening’s reception of networking and you in your slacks and business casual shirt, designed to put people at ease yet the way that you wore your clothes exuded power and confidence. The train doors closed and we stood talking to each other. As the train pulled out of the station, sexy didn’t begin to describe how you looked. You looked scrumptious and my breathing quickened. In my already weak state I thought I was going to pass out from imagining what I wanted to do to you. Looking at you. The way your slacks hung off your waist and your belt matched your shoes and your laptop. My thoughts immediately turned to the fact that I accidentally left my underwear at home so underneath the prim black suit, wetness was running down my legs. I wondered if you could smell it. I wanted to take my hands and touch you, just to watch your smooth pants front bulge. The wicked part of me almost turned my back to you and let my ass rest on your dick and let my fingers stroke your thigh. The wicked part of me wished the train was even more crowded so that you could slyly stick your hand underneath my skirt and watch me as I fought for control while your finger moved in and out of my wet pussy. Mmm, what a way to go. watching you as you handled the jerks and shortstops of the train without using the poll to hold on to. I had to hold on with both hands because the thoughts I had of you I knew my concentration was shot and my knees were shaking. how you stood there confident, alone in your thoughts and me, with a body on fire, thinking damn what a waste.