Strangers (F-32, Maryland)

I don’t ride the metro rail often, maybe three or four times a month for necessary client facing.  So, when I do, I take copious notes in a notebook, the spiral-bound kind I used in college.  I play this little game where I meet a stranger on their way to work, and we have hot, steamy sex before going our separate ways.  My metro stop is the furthest from the city, so I always get a seat near the back and take out my notebook.  At the second stop, my imagination begins.  I size up the unsuspecting guys trudging onto the train on their way to work, and within the first few stops, I have identified my target. 

I have a wild imagination and have targeted a wide variety of guys, who become notes jotted on the page.  I begin by naming them.  Today, it’s Josh from Rockville, the second stop.  If he’s going all the way into the city, I have about an hour of illusive glancing and day dreaming.  Josh in younger, early twenties, and not dressed professional.  Today, he is a graduate student at Georgetown on his way to a part-time job at a coffee shop in Adams Morgan.  I like my men to be ambitious, taking care to select an adequate profession while weaving my story.

Along the 45 minute ride, I spin my torrid tale, rushing off the train with him at his stop instead of mine.  He has a friend who’s already in class, so we can stop by his place for a quickie.  Diligently texting my client the woes of morning traffic, I easily free up an hour of my time.  The studio apartment is a short walk from the metro station and two floors up a back staircase.  The room is musky and bed unmade, but within seconds, we are laying back tearing at each others clothes.

Especially glad I had the few extra minutes this morning to trim downstairs, I arch my hips off the mattress as he rolls my panties off.  I blush, knowing I’ve been wet since the minute he walked onto the train.  Spreading my legs with one hand on each knee, Josh licks a trail along my inner thigh, his beard stubble a combination of tickling and scratchy.  With the fervor of a sex-starved grad student, he licks into my pussy with a strong and forceful tongue.  Grabbing fistfuls of the bed sheet, my toes curl as I enjoy the pure bliss.  I’m grateful my clit became engorged earlier on the train because his tongue is knocking it around recklessly, probably naive and unaware at how sensitive they usually are.  No complaints, it feels so fucking good.

My pussy begins to grip and tighten, my back arching as Josh’s tongue makes my entire body convulse in a powerful orgasm.  He continues to lick, slowing his pace and lapping at my swollen lips.  “Fuck me,” my voice is hoarse, my words direct.  I watch him slide out of his jeans and boxer shorts in one motion, his throbbing hard-on springing to attention.

“Not until you return the favor,” he says with an air of confidence.  I stare eagerly at the glistening pre-cum on the tip of his cock, making my mouth begin to water.  My tongue unconsciously licking my lips, showing my hunger.  And with that, a familiar tone snaps me from my trance, while the train comes to a stop, and “Union Station” is announced over the loud speaker.  I close my notebook and make my way through the crowd, feeling energized and ready to start my day.  The next sordid tale begins this afternoon on the ride home.