When her fingers traced over the bump in her slacks where her clit throbbed, Luisa’s hand stopped there. The spot just underneath felt damp to the touch. She drew in the quietest breath she could through her nose and held it.
The train rumbled all around her, barreling onward, as she curled two fingers up and down to rub her clit. Whenever she masturbated in private, Luisa loved two things–pressure and speed. Her hand flying fast over her pussy with her fingers pressed hard against her clit, rubbing the surrounding skin raw the longer she felt herself for. It would always be worth it for a quick, explosive orgasm.
On the train, she could only move as fast as possible without budging her arm, which meant only curling her fingers and keeping her wrist and elbow stiff. To make up for it, her fingers had set firm against her clit and stroked hard lines over her pants along the little head, but it wasn’t enough. The tease made her throb again–this time it ached–as Luisa felt more fluid drooling from her pussy.
As the train completed the next three stops, Luisa wouldn’t stop touching herself. Her desire turned into a need. She would keep her pace and only slow down not because she reached a terminal, but if she thought her movements had become too suspicious. People stepped on and off at every station, but her train car never emptied out again. Her mind raced.
Doesn’t this look weird? My hand behind my bag?
I really need to come… Wouldn’t someone notice?
I don’t want to stop.
I have to stop.
I won’t.
Luisa’s fingers curled under the weight of her bag. The pressure on her clit increased. Her nerves spiked. A tide of warmth flooded the pit of her belly, washing downward to soak her panties through. Her nails scraped over the wet patch on the crotch of her slacks. To her anxiety, the bag bumped up and down a fraction of an inch with her every move. The pleasure shooting through her with every stroke outweighed the fear of being caught. Still, that terror crept up on her as the train began to slow down again.
At the second to last stop, Luisa quit touching herself. The train shrieked as it pulled into the station. Half the train car poured out as just as many people stuffed themselves in–even more than that–flooding the seats, the aisle, the front and back ends, and grabbing hold of any part of the railing they could without brushing someone else’s hand. Someone was pressed against her right arm. Everyone was headed to the final stop. Her stop.
Chaos whirled around her. A disheveled woman hurled curses at the top of her lungs from the back of the car. A young man slouched in his seat played his music so loud, it thumped through his headphones. His neighbor leaned away from him and complained into his phone. Eyes landed on hers every few seconds. Or was it only once in a while? Every time someone shoved past in front of her, the fabric of her pants creased and shifted against her pussy. One little move would relieve the stimulation, only to make a gap in the gusset of her panties where her come was pooling. For all the noise thrumming in the air, Luisa couldn’t take her mind off the blood thumping in her hard clit.
She turned away from the crowd and stared into the darkness out the window. White lights flashed past in her peripheral vision at top speed. Desperate, Luisa held onto the horizontal, fingerprint-smeared railing and pressed her groin onto it. Her clit throbbed against the cold metal, barely protected by her slacks and thin panties. By that point, she started hoping that the firm touch would stop her swollen clit from brushing her clothes too much, but it was too late. Wave after helpless wave of pleasure wracked her body as she waited for the final stop to come.
The train shrieked again. As it slowed toward the end of the line, Luisa’s nerves ramped up. The lull between each wave shortened. Her legs trembled with every crash. Oh god, I think I’m coming… When the doors flew open, she pushed off the railing and drowned in the deluge of commuters. All were as anxious as she to escape the station. Bumping and shoving past people young and old, eyes all glossed over and staring ahead at their own waypoints, Luisa excused herself timidly and clutched her bag close to her front as she matched the rush of the crowd. She made her way down the long hall past the turnstiles and toward the escalators. The up escalator was packed, with a line. If I take the stairs, I’ll get to the bathroom quicker.
Her thighs squeezed her clit and rubbed it side to side with every step. She weaved around someone hauling their bicycle up the stairs. As she rushed, the cool gust traveling through the subway blasted her from above, blowing her hair back into a frizz and biting the sensitive skin on her chest just under her top. Her nipples poked out against her soft sweater. Luisa found herself drawing her pelvic muscles inward to hold an orgasm back by the time she reached the top. The final step sealed her fate.
It exploded within her. Luisa clenched her bag at the top of the steps and drew her quaking thighs together, fighting to contain the fallout. All around and behind her, people shoved past without a moment to spare for what might be a woman with incontinence or a mental disturbance–who knows?–as she managed to keep quiet through an agonizing climax.
Her mind blanked. Her clit pulsed. Her pants flooded.
When she came to, Luisa realized she was just standing at one end of the top of the staircase, dazed and slightly bent over. Her face heated up–as if she wasn’t already flushed. Spotting the women’s restroom in the metro station food court, Luisa hurried over with her legs close together.
I can’t believe that just happened.
The embarrassment only stoked the fires of her lust.
Luisa took the first open stall, hung her bag on the door hook, and dropped her slacks and panties to her knees. Her white thong soaked only so much of her come before the rest went all over the crotch and seat of her slacks. The dark color obscured the mess, but touching them revealed the extent of the damage. With her clit still aching for another orgasm, she put down a seat cover and sat on the toilet. Luisa swiped up a fat bead of unabsorbed come from her slacks and smeared it over her clit.
I didn’t check if anyone else is in here.
Slick sounds of her fingers flying over her clit filled her ears.
Is anyone going to hear that?
She looked down. A trail of come from her pussy shook with every flick of her wrist. The end connected with the toilet water.
I could do this forever.
The door to the restroom swung open. Luisa furiously masturbated. As she propped one foot up against the locked stall door, she stared off at nothing and homed in on the sound of a stranger shuffling around.
I bet she can hear me.
Luisa pressed harder on her clit, over the hood.
I wish she could see me.
She rubbed the surrounding skin raw.
What would even happen if she did?
Her train of thought bleared into ecstasy.
A second orgasm rattled her nerves, and this time, it didn’t hurt. She rode out her pleasure with a shaky sigh, ignorant of how loud she might’ve been over the sound of the other woman tearing off toilet paper in her stall. Luisa rubbed her clit slower and slower until the jolts of her climax turned into overstimulation. She looked down again with a clearer head to admire the look of her puffed up pussy. How she propped her leg up exposed it to the air. How soothing the air felt after more than half an hour of teasing.
It took forever to take a piss after one orgasm, let alone two. While she waited, Luisa used toilet paper to try to mop up the excess come in her panties. The more moisture she could press out of her pants and underwear, the better. Once she was done in the stall, Luisa waited for the other woman to be close to finishing her bathroom visit. Luisa listened for the sound of the faucet shutting off. She made her exit then.
The other woman glanced at Luisa. Looking in the mirror, Luisa saw a few differences between them. The stranger had straight red hair in a long ponytail, in stark contrast to Luisa’s now-frizzy, curly brown hair that stopped at her shoulders. Although Luisa had big breasts, this stranger was the curvier and pudgier of the two. Most distinct were the piercing green eyes. Even in that split second they shared, Luisa’s dark brown eyes compared to those were soft and yielding.
Her heart raced. The other woman said nothing. By the time Luisa was done slowly washing her hands, the green-eyed stranger was out the door.
Luisa yanked her sweater up over her tits. Her unbuttoned blouse underneath left them completely exposed. Concerned that someone else would come in, Luisa spent no extra time admiring herself and leaned over the sink, pressing her bare breasts against the cold mirror. Her skin chilled, and her nipples hardened again. She squeezed her tits together and went up and down on her tiptoes to rub up on the mirror. Her hands cupped under her breasts gave them some support that they had been missing all day. When Luisa let go again, they drooped just so, sliding downward on their own reflection.