You take the same train to work every day with the same group of tired faces and weary movements. There is a particular woman—maybe a few years older than you—that draws your attention every time. She sits with perfect posture and wears tight fitting pencil skirts usually with a white blouse undone just a little. She must be of Irish decent; she has beautiful long red hair and green eyes. She always looks like she has it together.
One morning she sits in front of you. You can’t help but stare. Your eyes move from her perfect little mouth—which always seems to be smirking—down her long pale neck. She shuffles in her purse for a moment and you can see in between the folds of her blouse. She is wearing a light blue lace bra and you think you see a little bit of her pink nipple. Everything about her looks soft and intended.
You hear the click of her purse and see that she is looking directly at you. You awkwardly smile and look out the window.
Moments later you feel her leg brush against yours. You glance down as she crosses her legs. You catch a glimpse of the top of her knee-high stockings and (of course) her panties match her bra.
Her leg runs up yours a bit. Her calf lifts up the bottom of your pants a little and you can feel her silk against your leg—it feels expensive.
You notice her put her purse on her lap and you see her hand slide down the front of her skirt. She looks at you almost expressionless and her mouth opens just slightly. The guy sitting next to you is fast asleep and the woman next to her is fixated on her laptop. You put your bag to your right to make some kind of visual barrier and put your hands down your pants as well. To be discreet you move your hand as little as possible, still, it feels so good.
You stare into each other eyes and you see micro expressions of bliss in her face. She licks her red lips and her hips wiggle ever so slightly back and forth.
She mouths the words “Come for me.” As she bites her bottom lip. So turned on you can’t help but oblige, you tense and release, unloading into your pants. She smiles, her green eyes widen, as her legs tighten together. She closes her eyes and exhales.
She winks at you as the train reaches its final stop. She lightly clears her throat and writes something on a little card and hands it to you. It’s her business card and it says,
“Would love to see what those hands can do for me :)”
She straightens her skirt, looks down at the mess you made in your pants, smiles, stands up and walks away.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ayzjby/morning_commute