Fiction – Underground

The second of my stories originally published on Wordejaculation.

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She was grumpy. It had been one of those days at work where nothing seemed to go right. Customers weren’t happy, her boss was frustrated and the stupid cow she shared an office with had decided to leave early and dumped all the urgent tasks on her.

His day, on the other hand, had left him buzzing – one of those rare days when everything seemed to have gone his way, and the testosterone was flowing. Plus that new girl in HR was definitely flirting with him. He grinned as he walked the short distance to the underground station and got on the train.

The métro on the way home was packed, as usual. She sighed, squeezed her way in and tried her hardest not to breathe in the smell of stale commuters. As she stood holding onto the rail, she closed her eyes and imagined herself far away. People were still squeezing on, until it seemed every possible drop of air was being taken up. As the train set off, she let her body yield to the rocking movement of the carriage. Inwardly cursing the bags and briefcases that were digging into her, she concentrated on her mental image of palm trees and sunny beaches.

He looked around the carriage and momentarily hesitated as he brushed up against the woman in front of him. Was that the new girl from HR? The one with the amazing arse and the penchant for killer heels? He had spent many an enjoyable moment wanking over the thought of dragging her into the nearest fire escape and fucking her senseless. He was momentarily disappointed as he realised that this was in fact a different woman – still, the resemblance was striking. Damn, she was also pretty hot. He felt his cock start to throb as he admired the way this woman’s curves were visible through the pencil skirt she was wearing. He cursed the fact he was directly behind her and tried to imagine the front of her blouse – slightly too many buttons undone, perhaps…a peek of a lacy bra?

As she desperately tried to get to her happy place, she became aware of something pressing against her hip that did not align with the usual pressure of a packed commute. She had not paid the man behind her much attention until then – he was the usual middle-aged manager in a suit that seemed to frequent that line, no doubt heading back to the suburbs to his miserable frigid wife and 2.4 children. She inwardly shook her head as she tried to get the bizarre thought out of her mind that the man was pressing his penis into her – it had obviously just been too long since she had last got laid, and her mind was starting to play tricks.

He mulled over what might happen if he should press his crotch against her. Would she cry out? Turn around and insult him?  Stamp her stiletto on his foot? Parisian women could be pretty forthright. The thought turned him on even more. There was now no hiding the fact that his cock was fully erect and pressing against her arse. He panicked, held his breath and waited for her inevitable reaction.

She tried to concentrate on what she would have to eat that evening. And yet…that was definitely a body part pressing into her, now with barely perceptible movement. She swore she could now clearly feel the outline; the long, firm shaft and the exposed head. Her first reaction was shock. She looked around the carriage surreptitiously,  but all the other commuters were wrapped up in themselves and nobody was paying her the slightest bit of attention. Why would they? The man was so close to her, with his briefcase strategically placed at groin height. Nobody would be able to see a thing. While these thoughts were shooting through her mind, the man’s initially tentative movements grew stronger and more confident. She knew she should cry out and draw attention to what was happening, and yet her mouth was dry and she felt paralysed. All she could think of was the way his cock was rubbing against her buttock with an increasing urgency. She was convinced she could hear his breathing quickening.

He could not believe that she had not reacted by now. All he could focus on was her arse and the way his cock was rubbing rhythmically against it. He wanted so badly to lift her skirt up, pull aside her panties and thrust his hard prick into her pussy in full view of all the commuters. Rip open her blouse and expose her tits to the carriage… The fantasy spurred him on, until he felt more brazen and more confident.

Quickly, and barely perceptibly, his hand brushed her other buttock, reached towards his crotch and, with a single smooth motion, undid his zip and grabbed his cock out of his trousers. It felt amazing. The feel of the extra friction from the rough cloth of her skirt against his throbbing head almost made him come instantly.

She could now more clearly feel every stroke of his cock through her skirt. She gagged slightly, yet something still compelled her not to move. Her thoughts were a mixture of curiosity and disgust.

The man placed a hand on her left buttock to steady himself as with a last, barely imperceptible, thrust of his hips he shot his load all over her skirt. As the train slowed towards the next station, he rapidly zipped himself up, bent forward, whispered “Merci, madame” and left the train.

With that she knew it was over, as quickly as it had begun. All that she was left with was a sick feeling in her stomach, a sticky wet patch on her skirt and a tingling in her cunt.

Fiction – Construction

(As an aside, this one should probably also be known as The One In Which I Think I Probably Watch Too Much Porn, as it involves frankly slightly ridiculous stereotypes of big burly men in hard hats, and normally features a 70s-style soundtrack in my head when I play the scenario through.)

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“Eurgh. Thursday.” thought Jo, as her eyes started to focus on the room around her, and her ears protested at the hard-core dance music that appeared to be emanating from her clock radio. “Too early. Always too fucking early.”

She rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she mentally made a note to make more effort to take her make-up off before going to bed. Just like she did every other morning. Squinting in the bright sunlight, she rummaged around in the bathroom cabinet for painkillers, and quickly downed them with icy water from the tap.

The shower was the one thing that worked in her pokey flat, and she stripped off and climbed into it,  luxuriating in the way the hard driving rivulets of water stung her body into a state that might actually pass as alertness. As she absentmindedly soaped herself with lemon-scented shower gel, she played back the events of the night before. There had been wine. Yes, lots of wine. Eurgh. Then shots with that group of guys. Double eurgh. No wonder her head was throbbing.

She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the hook on the back of the door. It would have to be instant coffee again – she really should get round to getting a new machine. Mornings like this were made for proper coffee; strong, dark and invigorating. The list of things that were already going wrong was getting longer, and it wasn’t even 7.30 yet.

Jo threw a slice of stale bread in the toaster and went to grab some clothes. She rummaged in her wardrobe and found the first top that looked like it might be vaguely presentable, and teamed it with a flared navy skirt. Simple, yet at least fairly smart for the office. Glancing at the overflowing laundry basket next to her wardrobe, she quickly decided against underwear. It was forecast to be a reasonably warm day anyway, and maybe some fresh air would do her some good – whatever it was blowing.

A slice of toast and some of her favourite songs on the radio helped lift her mood and she felt a little more human. Lashings of mascara and a slick of lipgloss ensured she also looked it. Jo grabbed her keys and her bag and headed out of the door to the bus stop. For once she wasn’t even going to be late!

It seemed everyone was out of town for the summer, and thankfully the bus had plenty of seats for a change. She put her bag down and collapsed onto the nearest one. The other passengers on the bus were the usual mix of elderly and commuters – no school kids at this time of year, thank God – the usual combination of strangers and familiar commuting faces. There was the woman who wore that awful pink lipstick that really didn’t suit her skin tone, and behind her the man that she occasionally bumped into at the corner shop being bullied into buying icecreams for his kids.

She didn’t recognise the man sat facing the back of the bus diagonally to her. He was maybe in his early 60s, Jo thought, with a shock of white hair and a dress-sense that seemed more up-to-date than his age implied. He was still handsome, and Jo could tell he’d obviously been a real heart-breaker in his youth. Or maybe he still was?

Her mental image made her unconsciously smile, and she blushed as she realised he was looking straight at her with a quizzical look in his eyes. She’d obviously made her interest in him too clear. Jo shifted uncomfortably in her seat and crossed, then re-crossed her legs. The movement reminded her of the fact she was not wearing underwear, and created a slight stickiness at the very top of her inner thigh. Older foxy man was now blatantly checking out her legs! Dirty old man!

Jo glanced out of the window and realised she was only two stops away from the office, when at the same time a wicked thought ran through her mind. Surreptitiously she tried to see if she could guess where her opposite number would be getting off. Dressed like that she supposed the likelihood was pretty big that he would be going further into the centre of town. She figured she was therefore pretty safe in what she wanted to do.

One more stop to go. She had to time it right or she would lose her nerve completely. Her stomach churned and she felt inwardly giddy. She’d never done anything like this. Well, not when sober anyway…

As the bus rounded the corner that meant she had a couple of hundred yards to her stop, Jo casually dropped her hands onto her lap. Gathering the soft fabric of her skirt in her fingers, she glanced around to ensure that the man opposite was the only person who would be able to see what she was doing. He was staring idly out of the window, and she wondered if he would actually even notice.

With one sure, slow movement she slid the fabric of her skirt up her thighs and quickly uncrossed her legs, exposing her cunt. She held her breath and blushed  a deep red as the man opposite turned his head because of the movement, and caught what must have been a full view of her glistening pussy.

The look of surprise and delight on his face would stay with Jo long after she got off the bus. That would give him something to tell his grandchildren, she thought…

___

The episode on the bus had made her giddy with excitement, and she practically skipped into the office. All morning she had to try to contain the fits of giggles that seemed to want to explode out of her at the most inopportune moments. Thankfully the office was suffering from the same empty August syndrome as the bus, and she spent most of the morning uninterrupted. Even though the whole thing had only lasted seconds, the arousal that had resulted from her little flash on the bus was acute, and she used quiet periods at her desk and trips to the bathroom to dip her fingers up her skirt into her dripping juices. It only made her hornier.

When it was time for her lunch break, Jo was glad to leave the office – she felt sure it was blindingly obvious to the few colleagues that were left what the only thing on her mind was that day. At one point she was convinced she was so flushed that the office maintenance guy was going to ask her if she had a fever.

She dashed out to the nearest sandwich bar and walked over the small green square that she liked to frequent in the summer, where she sat down on the grass and wolfed down her sandwich with a voracious appetite.

However, no amount of chicken salad on wholemeal could do anything to appease the hunger in her cunt. It was getting beyond a joke. Everywhere she looked she could see hot young office workers of both sexes flirting in the sun. She started to wonder if she was going to have to seduce Ben the IT geek in the stationery cupboard on her return to the office, things were getting that desperate. And all because of some stranger who was probably old enough to be her grandfather!

On her way back to the office, Jo realised that there finally seemed to be movement at the derelict office block across the road. She could see various men in hard hats pointing at sheaves of paper. About time too, the place was a complete eyesore, thought Jo.

She was staring absent-mindedly at the building, when she realised that one of the men was walking purposefully towards her, and smiling in recognition. Jo racked her brains as to where she might know him from, when finally it dawned on her that he had been one of the group that she and her friend had been drinking with in the nightclub the previous evening. She groaned inwardly as she wondered whether she had made a fool of herself, but reading the expression on his face decided against it.

He was maybe just under 6 foot, with floppy blond hair and deep brown eyes that twinkled out from under his hard hat. She could tell from the tan on his face and forearms that he spent a lot of time outside. Her eyes were drawn to the bulge of his biceps under his t-shirt. She had no control over the throbbing that instantly started up between her legs.

“Hi”, the man said as he got close, “it’s Jo, isn’t it? We met last night, at Fifth Avenue? I’m Greg”. As Jo opened her mouth to respond, he leaned in and grinned conspiratorially “I loved the fact you weren’t wearing any underwear”. “Fuck”, thought Jo, as she blushed bright red, then hesitated for a split second, before laughing and whispering back “I’m not wearing any now either”.

Had she really just said that? What was wrong with her? First flashing at respectable older gentlemen, and now this? She had to concede that Greg was a damn sight hotter than Ben the IT geek though…

She looked at the bemused expression on Greg’s face as he processed this piece of information. Jo guessed he hadn’t quite expected that reaction. She weighed up her next move. In for a penny, and all that… “want me to show you?” she breathed.

Greg’s grin grew wider. “Follow me”, he said, and led her round the back of the building. As she walked behind him, Jo had the chance to survey the way his jeans cupped his buttocks as he walked. With every step Jo made up her mind further that she desperately needed to get her hands on that body.

The back of the building contained a small courtyard, with sorry-looking raised beds that must once have contained flowers. Greg gestured to them; “hop up there” he beckoned, throwing his hard hat to the ground. She did as she was told, hoiking her skirt up around her hips at the same time, and spreading her legs. “I told you I wasn’t wearing any underwear” she laughed.

Greg grabbed her right thigh with his left hand while the other desperately scratched at the buckle of his belt. With a swift movement, he unbuttoned the fly of his jeans and pulled out his already erect cock. Jo’s pussy spasmed at the sight, and she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him towards her. With a slow, soft movement, she pushed her tongue into his mouth as he thrust his cock into her throbbing pussy with the same slow motion. Jo gasped as her aching cunt finally got its fill.

Greg’s movements were slow and steady at first, then grew wilder and less hesitant as  he responded to Jo’s moans. She wrapped her thighs tightly around his hips and drew his full length into her, willing each thrust deeper and harder.  Greg did not last long – his orgasm came quick and hard, and they clung together, panting for a few seconds. Finally he looked at her. “Sorry”, he mumbled, aware that his own orgasm had not waited for Jo’s. “That’s ok”, she smiled, shifting her buttocks on the uncomfortable wooden logs. She glanced up briefly to where she knew another man in a hard hat had been watching. “We can always try again later…”