I had watched her for a week. She would get on at L’Enfant and get off at Virginia Square. I would only see her in the morning. Usually, her short hair hung loosely around her face but today she had pinned it back, and it made her look attractive. More so than she normally did. Her green eyes sparkled in the fluorescent lights that made most of us look like we were underdone pieces of meat. She wore dresses, without exception. Today she wore a grey striped worsted wool dress and blazer. The dress was likely sleeveless and given today’s expected heat I thought it was a bit much, but maybe her office was cold. She carried a trendy black leather purse that was big enough for a small laptop or tablet. Usually, she was lost in the crowd only moments after she got on but today there were fewer people, and she sat down next to me. It being Friday, I was wearing jeans and a polo shirt. I had my tablet shoved into a pocket of my vest, and the only thing mildly interesting about me was the pineapples on my sneakers. To be fair, the pineapples were wearing sunglasses.
“Nice shoes,” she said
“Thanks. I thought they would be fun today.”
“I could use some fun. But you know, work.”
“And pretty inflexible work too I would guess. Most shops have dumped formal attire, and only a few dinosaurs insist on something that dressy, regardless of how good it looks on you.”
“Tell you a secret,” she whispered and leaned closer so only I could hear her next words. “I may look stuffy and boring on the outside, but I am wild and racy underneath. And that is just my undies.”
I smiled at her, and she rubbed her legs together suggestively. The car was not the place for further investigation. But I had an idea.
“Are you going to be tied up all day?”
“No, but I would like to be,” she said putting her wrists together.
This caused her arms to compress her lovely tits together, and I was more than interested in where this might go.
“Well, when you have the time for a play date, let me know, and I will bring my toys, and we will see what we can get up to.”
I passed her my calling card, and she tucked it into a pocket in her jacket for later as we arrived at her station.
“I cannot wait to see what you get up to,” she said.
I watched her ass wiggle as she stepped off the train and we pulled out. I was pretty sure that she would get me up without any problems whatsoever. The problems with the Metro is the poor cell reception you get when you are in the tunnels, so I was not surprised to see nothing new on my phone until I reached my station and the street level outside of it. It had the usual collection of homeless bums and delinquents all looking for handouts, and I ignored them as I negotiated the urine stench from overnight and made my way to clean air and my building a short, but invigorating walk from the station. As I waited for the light to change, my phone chirped, and I pulled it out to see what was new.
The message read:
This is me, hoping I can encourage a rise from you as you have never experienced before. And just so you have something to help you on your way...
The accompanying picture was scrumptious. Lace barely covered tits of an impressive nature with puffed areola and prominent nipples. It was a lovely selfie, and I saved it away for later viewing.
I sent back:
That certainly has had a positive influence on what I can achieve. I hope your day is successful and you do not find yourself over-constrained or improperly bound.
I put my phone away and walked into my building to start my day.
About 11 o’clock my phone chirped again, and I flipped it over and read the message. It said:
I prefer silk to wool and air to lace. Would either of those help to get you up? Perhaps this will help sweeten the deal.
The picture was grey silk draped over what was likely her lovely naked body. She was lovely even with the sheet nearly covering every inch of her body. I decided that my day was done and sent back a message of my own.
Air is wonderful and so is lace, silk, and satin as well. There is almost no limit to what we can get up to or how many times with visions like this. Where would you like to meet?
I walked out of the office and started towards the Metro station. As I was about to descend, she replied:
I will meet you on my platform as soon as you can get there.
I hurried my steps and met the train. A few minutes later and I stepped off onto her platform. She was already there. She stepped into my arms, and we kissed with heat and passion, her arms around my neck, her body pressed tightly against me as she tried to gauge what we could get up to initially. It was a good amount, and we were just getting started. The next train arrived, and we stopped long enough to get on before we started again. The car was empty, and for three stations, all we did was kiss each other.
“That was a fantastic start,” she said breathlessly.
Her hand wandered aimlessly over my chest as she looked into my eyes and I looked into hers. She was lovely. We held hands as we rattled under the city and shared small, and not so small kisses until we stepped out onto the platform at L’Enfant.
“My place?” she asked, and I agreed.
We changed trains and rattled uptown a bit more before emerging into bright sunshine and row houses. She took me up a small set of stairs and into a brilliantly lit compact foyer. The door was barely closed before we were in each other’s arms again. She dropped her jacket on the floor, and I ran my hands over her bare arms, feeling her shiver. She moaned into my mouth and pulled me closer, her hips grinding against my engorged cock. I let my hands wander across her back and found the tab for the zipper. Slowly, gently, and all the way down to the bottom of the raceway. I retraced the route, my fingers on her bare skin. She broke the kiss, her mouth open, her eyes glassy. I slid the dress from her shoulders, and it fell to the floor in a puddle. She mashed her lips against mine; her barely covered tits pressed hard against my chest.
Her hands reached and grabbed my shirt and all but yanked it over my head, her nails scratching my bare skin. I cupped her tits and ran my thumbs over her nipples. She moaned. I squeezed. She gasped. I pinched. She kissed me and worked the buttons on my jeans open. Her soft hand wrapped around my cock while I continued to pinch her nipples. She pushed me backward into the stairs, and I sat heavily, my hands bracing me. She dropped to her knees and yanked on my pants. She got them down enough to allow her to engulf my cock with her mouth. She gobbled it down, sucked and teased before her nose hit my stomach. I ran my hands through her hair as she sucked me and I soon showered her mouth with my cum. She sucked it all down before she kissed me again. I moved her, so she was on the stairs and slid between her legs.
“You are wicked,” I said.
I plunged my tongue between her bare lips, raking and pushing the pearls of her thong around as I did. She pulled her knees up and out, and I had full access to all of her. My tongue danced over her clit and poked her ass as she wiggled and moaned under my assault. She got wetter and wetter, a pool building on the wood step beneath her shapely ass as I licked her. The first orgasm was little more than twitching muscles and a sharp breath. The second one was a cry of desire and copious liquid. The third one drenched my face, and he hands held my hair by the roots as she slammed her pussy into my mouth before she pushed me back with her foot and collapsed.
.... There is more of this story ...