Through my thin socks and the fabric of his shorts, I felt something twitch. By the time I turned the page in my book, it had become unmistakable: he was getting hard under my feet.
The train was crowded, full of students heading home for the holidays, nearly every seat taken. Besides the rattling and rumbling of the train, the car was quiet, the chatter of the early trip replaced by the soft hum of people dozing, snacking, watching TV shows on their phones. I didn’t dare say anything, or make any quick movements, or I’d risk calling attention to myself. So I turned the page and flexed my foot slightly against his stiffening cock. His cock flexed back at me, and now I could see it, a thick ridge pressed against his left thigh.
He turned his head to me and we traded tiny smiles. Almost unconsciously, my hips lifted a few centimeters, rising to the thrill of being so naughty in public. He must’ve noticed my shifting, because slowly (so slowly) he slid his hand from where it had been resting on my thigh, letting it slip down to my hip, then under my ass, then fully cupping my cheek. I was wearing a short dress and a pair of pink cotton panties with tiny bows at the top of each thigh, and I could feel them start to tighten against my pussy as my lips swelled.