The Caller 05 - Riding on a subway - Sex Stories

The Caller 05 - Riding on a subway

... step around me now, though. And it's okay to admit that you liked it. Or that you didn't, whatever. I just had the feeling you really did." I swallowed again. "Yeah," I said, trying to sound more confident, but actually pretty relaxed. "Yeah, I did enjoy that. It's nice, just letting it all go, just being... sexual, for a moment." I moaned gently. "Mmh, I knew you would," she said. "And it's no shame admitting to it either. You'd be surprised what little sluts all your acquaintances are if you all would just talk about your preferences more often." I giggled quietly, thinking about my "acquaintances". The pent-up neighbour woman from across the street? Or all my friends from church? My decent clients, just looking for a prim home for their family. It was fun, imagining them all as sex-hungry perverts for once. Suddenly, the train rolled in. I braced myself, standing alert in front of the door as it swung open. "Get on and offer yourself to anyone who would have you," she ordered. I stared wide-eyed, but hurried to get on before it left again, without much time to think about her words. Inside, there were only a few passengers. Two or three bums were sleeping on some of the seats, and a young woman with her headphones on was ignoring me. When I turned, my eyes fell on my reflection in the window of the train: I was soaking wet, my yellow dress clung to my body tight and became see-through in parts, showing very clearly that I wasn't wearing a bra, for instance, and if I ...

... looked closely, I could see a dark triangle where the dress stretched across my crotch. Jocelyn, if you weren't so classy, you'd look like a hooker. I slowly went to the back of the car, where a young guy in a leather jacket was sitting. He was maybe 19 or 20, with all the attitude of a rebel, having come 30 years late to the rebellion. I walked up to him and smiled my brightest, whitest smile. "Hi," I said. "I'm Jocy." He looked up at me, raising his eyebrows. He had nice eyebrows, I thought. Black, like his hair, which was cut in a nice, wavy style that made him look fashionable without trying too hard. "Okay," he replied, acting bored. "Do you want me?" I asked. "What?" he answered confused. I leaned across his seat, making sure he got a good deep look down by cleavage, my breasts hanging full and heavy underneath me. "I said: Do. You. Want. Me?" I repeated myself, slowly and distinctly. To my satisfaction he stared at my breasts, and so I reached over and ran my hand carefully across his crotch, feeling his pants already bulge hard at his zipper. With surprisingly nimble and calm motions I quickly unbuttoned his pants and opened them as far as I could, releasing his hardening cock from the confines of his shorts. He had a nice dick, strong and hard, not too long, but not too short, just a good sized, straight, hard piece of meat. I licked my lips and got to work. Kneeling down in front of him, I pulled down my dress underneath my breasts, wrapping them around his cock, slick ...