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A man grows infatuated with a woman he sees on his daily train ride home from work
I saw her standing on the platform even before the commuter train slowed to a stop. As beautiful as ever in a summery silk blouse and a black skirt, she had her dark red hair twisted into a loose pile behind her head. Everyday since first noticing her in May I would watch for her on my ride home. Sometimes I would see her board a completely different car and that would be all until I might spy a glimpse of her again on the platform after she disembarked at her stop. My own stop was near the end of the line, one beyond hers.

Often she stood or sat in the same car as me. I would quietly observe her whenever I could without being caught. I felt most comfortable when from a few seats behind her I could watch her watching others. Men often attempted to engage her in conversation and she would usually respond, confidently and pleasantly chatting with them until the conversation sagged or one of them disembarked. Increasingly, I would find myself jealous of these men and oddly territorial towards her even though we had never uttered a word to each other. I found it torturous if the conversations lasted and she appeared to be enjoying another man’s company. It was always with some relief when they asked for her name or number, as they so often did, that she would politely smile and ignoring their request respond with, “It was a great pleasure speaking with you”, before turning to exit the train.

Once, early on, she suddenly turned toward me and caught my gaze before I could divert away. I held it for a second without registration and then nonchalantly resumed peering at the newspaper I pretended to read. I never let her catch my eye again. I was biding my time, counting on chance to someday place her next to me. That I might speak to her without her knowledge of my growing obsession was what I had hoped.

It was unusually crowded on the train that day. The only relative peace I found was in the crowded alcove between the two forward most train cars. Once again my spirits sagged since where I had seen her standing would place her two coaches back. My thoughts strayed as the train again began to roll. I looked absentmindedly out of the opposite window beyond the heads of the other commuters in the alcove. The door from the coach, always active on a crowded day, slid opened once again and suddenly she was in the alcove. My heart leapt. She first looked opposite from me at the block of commuters to her left. Instinctively hoping she would look right I moved back against the coach wall to create an inviting alley to the side window. Focusing on that alleyway she never looked directly at me and moved quickly to the window. I folded in behind her and stood in silence.

The smell of her hair was close and her perfume intoxicating. With her attention focused beyond the window I found no opening to conversation. I feared to speak to her only to come away with her standard courteous kiss-off. My pulse began to race, but I remained paralyzed until the swaying motion of the train sent my body against hers. I pulled back but there was no reaction from her. Another commuter entered the alcove. I stepped in closer and let the next motion carry me against her again and remained there with my body lightly brushing hers as the train rocked and swayed. God, she was beautiful I thought and feared she would hear my pounding heart.

Calming just a bit I suddenly felt the urge to let her know I was there. Almost as a reaction I let the back of my hand lightly brush across her ass. It was a bold move that got her attention. When she turned her head and looked at me to determine the source and intent of the touch, I held her gaze as confidently as I could, allowing only the slightest smile. Her serious face broke into an equally slight, yet easy smile. In that instant I knew she was mine.

The resources of my groin immediately began to marshal. Bending slightly I reached down to place the palm of my hand fully open on the outside of her lower thigh. I held it there for the briefest of moments. Encountering no reaction I began to slide my hand up her leg almost to her hip before smoothing her skirt by gliding it back down the same path. Her young firm leg felt cool to me and it was all I could do to control myself enough to allow my hand another same steady journey up and down that thigh.

I wrapped my other hand around to her stomach and pulled her firmly against me. My cock was fully erect and pressing into her backside. The hardness of it, unmistakable through my summer weight slacks and her light skirt had an effect on her. She granted consent by not pulling away from me. Actually more than consent, there was an enthusiasm in her unyielding pressure against me.

With my back toward the other commuters I was emboldened in my confidence that I was undetected. I slowly moved the hand of my encircling arm up to her breast, tracing her contours before stroking the deliciously soft flesh overflowing her bra through her blouse with my fingertips.

Suddenly yet predictably she tried to turn. I did not know if it would have been to throw her arms around my neck and bring our mouths together in a passionate kiss or a snap to reality with an act of resistance. My reaction was to move the hand from her thigh to encircle her front and pin her commandingly against me. I did not want to scare her, but she needed to know I was leading this little dance. I brought my face firmly against the side of her head.

At the next stop everyone emptied from our little alcove onto the platform on the opposite side. By the time the train began to move again I could feel my beauty swoon against me. It felt good to feel her weight suddenly relaxed and submissive in my arms. I kissed her cheek, the back of her head and her neck and then whispered in her ear, “Be still, I know what you want.”

In truth I had no idea what she wanted, but by now I was rather sure she didn’t want me to stop. I was determined to keep going by taking one step at a time. Holding her around the waist to keep her tight against my erection I began to firmly massage the full of her breast with my other hand. Joyous was the sensation of the large globe as it yielded to my kneading fingers. Any doubt I may have had about their naturalness was dispelled. I pinched through her bra and blouse at the slightly firmer area of her nipples and felt them stiffen even through the fabric. Still, I was compelled to get at them, I wanted to feel them firmly erect between my fingers.

Whispering sternly but softly into her ear I instructed her to unbutton her blouse. She did nothing. I ceased my massage. I sensed she was again questioning my authority. I hissed my instructions again in a hard whisper as I pushed my body more firmly against hers, “Unbutton your blouse!” A moment later she gave in and slowly unbuttoned her blouse from the top down. I reached inside and cleared her bra up over her tits and frolicked her naked breasts with my hands as I searched for a nipple with my fingers. It was exactly as I dreamt, fully erect and substantial. I rolled it between my thumb and forefinger.

When she began to undulate her ass against my cock she almost got the better of me. That signal telegraphed directly through my cock to my psyche the fact that she was giving herself up to me. I had an overwhelming urge to forge ahead a few steps, unsheathe my cock and take her standing right there in the little alcove. Fearing an arrest for indecency my body grew still while I fought the urge.

I decided to pass the lead to her, “What would you like me to do?” I asked as matter-of-factly as I could. It was her turn to freeze. I brought my lips very close to her ear and in a very low very quiet growl said, “If you don’t tell me, I will stop what I’m doing. Do you want me to stop?” After a pause I repeated sternly, “Tell me what to do.”

“Touch me.” She said in an almost inaudible whimper. The words appeared in a fog on the window her cheek was pressed against.

I slid my hand up along her throat and jaw and lifting her face away from the glass I said, “What?

In a louder plea she said, “Please, touch me.”

I was off to the races. Teasingly I said, “Here?” and slid my hand down to hook and gather her skirt in between her legs. Then I told her to hike her skirt and hold it up.

Dutifully, but slowly she lifted her skirt and slip and tucked them into the waist. I found the top of her panties and slipped my hand inside. The skin on her tummy was smooth and tight. I stretched my fingers downward into the hair of her mound, then beyond toward her opening. I could smell the heat of her. When I hooked my finger into her she jumped nicely and seemed to collapse into me. She was so marvelously responsive. I needed more. “Take them off,” I said.

I withdrew my hand and eased my hold to give her opportunity. Would she turn and quit or do as I ask? I was relieved when there was no longer any hesitation. After a quick pike she was stuffing the damp panties into her bag and again came to attention in willing compliance.

Glancing back to make sure we were still alone I crossed my left arm over her breast to cup the opposite one with my hand. My right hand went around to her belly and quickly slid down to her pussy into which I slid a single finger. She opened her thighs and after a few teasing strokes across her sensitive button I slid one finger into her creamy wet entrance, then another. I began stroking her in earnest with my two fingers. She responded by moving her hips in rhythm to me. Her head pitched back against my shoulder with her hand over her mouth. She was oblivious to the occasional passenger passing between coaches.

She seemed on the verge of orgasm as the train began to slow in approach to another suburban station, although I confess gauging female response is something of which I am never sure. We were still one stop from hers but I became sufficiently detached to make a strategic decision that would extend the pleasure beyond the inevitable and sudden interruption of reaching her station. I confess there was an element of the type of cruelty evident in cats when they play with their prey. Did I wish to somehow punish her for my obsession?

I lied and whispered this was my stop and apologized we couldn’t finish. Startled, she began to turn toward me again; I could see her face was flushed. I gripped her tight and in a businesslike tone spoke into her ear, “Unless you want to come with me. Perhaps we could find somewhere to finish what we started.”

She nodded and as I pushed the button to open the door she pulled down the front of her skirt. However, when she began to pull down her bra I stopped her. I wanted to keep the slut inside her at the surface. I wanted her to revel in her sexuality and her public arousal. Besides, knowing most commuters don’t really pay much attention to others I expected no problems. Placing my hand on hers I instructed her to leave her breasts exposed, her blouse unbuttoned. She looked directly at me for only the second time since we started, her beautiful almond blue-grey eyes betraying her submission and simply pulled the material of her blouse across her disheveled bosom.

I escorted her off the train with my arm around her waist. There were just a few travelers still at the station. I spotted a bench toward the end of the platform and walked past a few unsuspecting people. On the occasions when anyone looked our way their eyes would first be attracted to the magnificent creature at my side, but they would then look at me and I would hold their eyes with mine.

When we reached the bench I sat on the near side with the object of my obsession next to me. I instructed her to lie down on the bench and as she complied I guided one leg across my lap and the other behind me on the bench. I turned toward her so that other people on the platform, if they paid us any attention, could see only my back. The heady power I was feeling over this girl was exhilarating. As I pushed her skirt up toward her waist her body responded to my slightest touch. The look on her face as I appraised her parted thighs and gaping pussy was one of complete submission. She whimpered in frustration as I dragged my knuckles across her vagina.

A slight feeling of disdain came across me, and with it my power over her increased. I unfolded a section of newspaper someone had left on the bench and placed it across her bare legs and pretended to read while I leaned over and asked her, “What do you want now?” The tart wriggled a little and raised her hips under the cover of the paper drawing closer to me. She reached down and pathetically put her hand on the bulge of my cock in my pants.

Running my hand under the newspaper to her dripping sex I harshly muttered, “Is this what you want?” I positioned two fingers at her opening and slipped them into her gooey channel, probing each inner fold along the way and plying her clitoris with my thumb. When her blouse gaped open revealing her still bare breasts she was either unaware or unconcerned. I smiled in satisfaction at how completely this beautiful slut had given herself up to the sensations of a simple finger fuck.

Never a sexually abusive man, I have no history of purposefully degrading or hurting women. However, my long building obsession with this girl had taken over my passion. I wanted to see her cum for me and I wanted to hear her beg for it and I wanted her to unequivocally belong to me.

“Tell me it’s good or I will stop,” I said quietly but earnestly.

“It’s good”, she whispered in a breathless croak while her bosom heaved, “It’s really good.” As another train approached I finally rewarded my little captive by working my fingers vigorously along the most sensitive areas of her vagina. She was already awash in waves of pleasure when while pumping my stretched fingers into her to stroke along her forward inner wall, the thumb-pad of my palm banging against her, I used my other hand to massage and knead her bare breast. In the next moment her entire body was arching and writhing on the hard bench. Had anyone from the train that was slowing to a stop been watching, they might have guessed I was tickling my lover beneath the newspaper. Fortunately her ecstatic moans were drowned out by the noise of the train. As her orgasm began to subside I slid out from under her leg and quietly but hastily boarded the nearest car. When the train again began to roll I peered through the window from deep within the coach at my little slave, emancipated for now, collecting herself.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © All rights reserved by Rotsen, the author. No part of this work may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the author with two exceptions: brief excerpts for comments and critical reviews, and printing a single copy for personal use. In each case of exception the author's name must appear.

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