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Summer pranks on the Subway

"Be careful who you stand next to on the Subway"

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Subway, Metro, Tube: all are urban transit systems (mostly underground) which you can encounter in New York, Paris or London. Most of the time they are crowded. And in summer, they are usually stifflingly hot.

Tina and her Russian partner Tamsin had been living together for a year in Stepney, one of the few 'un-gentrified' quarters left in central London. Litter blew in the streets and the pervading aroma outside their shabby tenement block, convinced the two young women that the sewer beneath the road no longer worked.

Having to cross London underground each day to get to the translation agency where they both worked was tiresome and exhausting this particular summer, when even at street level, temperatures were hitting the 80s; on 'the Tube' most evenings, it was frequently ten degrees more.

"Hey, I had the wierdest experience ever," confided Tina to Tamsin, as they rounded the corner of their street on the way home. "A smartly-dressed City businessman was obviously rubbing himself up against my thigh in order to get a hard-on."

"Dirty bastard. What did you do - move away?"

"Nope. I snuck in closer, slipped one hand down from the strap I was hanging onto, and stroked his cock for him through his trousers."

"Wow Tina; how wicked is that?"

"The wierd thing is that he just went on reading his evening newspaper. Didn't bat an eyelid."

"Honestly?"

"Yup. Right up until he came."

"You brought him off, hun?"

"I most certainly did. And I think it was a pretty big load, too, because an enormous damp patch appeared at the top of one trouser leg. I can't think what he'll tell wifey when he gets home. But he gave me a nice smile."

Tamsin roared with laughter and smacked her partner playfully on the bottom. "You dirty bitch; my dirty bitch."

"Hey, let's have a cool drink in the pub before we go home, shall we?"

"Why not? We'll celebrate your first 'frotting' victim."

The two young women ambled into a corner bar and ordered a pair of Moquito cocktails from the gay barman. The drinks disappeared in an instant. "My round," said Tamsin. "Same again, please Carlos."

They moved from their stools at the counter to a corner alcove, partly to be out of Carlos' earshot, but also so they could discreetly frigg each others pussies under the table.

Tina sucked her index finger provocatively. "Darling, I'm really hot. Will you fuck me with the pink strap-on tonight?"

Tamsin kissed her tenderly. "Of course I will, darling. I think this male frotting lark has made you uber-horny."

"Funny word 'frotting' isn't it?"

"It comes from the French 'frottage,' meaning to rub one's clothed body against another's to achieve sexual gratification."

"Well I never! As in on the London Underground?"

"Well actually, sweetie, the French have been at it for a couple of centuries. French virgins used to love getting off by having their silk underwear rubbed against their cunnies by an obliging servant, I believe."

"Stop it Tam, or I'll wet myself with excitement.

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Hey, let's have a third, shall we. I'm quite squiffy."

Tamsin's observation about Tina's horniness proved correct, as her partner's snatch was positively oozing lovely cunnie cream by the time they'd climbed the stairs to their attic flat. "Fuck the supper," giggled Tina. "Let's just fuck, babe."
It was an awesome session in which the strap-on was discarded, so that the two lovers could indulge in what they loved best - scissoring. In Tina's experience (and she'd had several passionate women lovers) her Russian partner's scissoring skills were unequalled.

"If the Olympic Committee was ever to admit 'scissoring' as a sport, darling," she had once observed, "you'd be guaranteed a Gold Medal."

* * * * *

Strolling to the tube station the following morning - it was a much cooler day altogether - the two girls hatched a plan for that evening's return train ride to Stepney. It was Tina's idea.

"Here's how it'll work. We get into the most crowded carriage. I'll be carrying my lightweight waterproof jacket over my arm, right?"

"Then what?"

"Then we pick out our 'target.' I'd say he's got to be over 50 and a bit overweight. I move in beside him and unzip his fly. If he's not interested, he'll quickly move away. If he doesn't move, then you wank him off. Simples?"

"Where's all his cum gonna go?"

"Under my showerproof coat, stupid. It'll be like a huge condom."

Four station stops before Stepney, the perfect 'target' boarded their train. He was fiftyish, balding, overweight and carrying a bulging briefcase. With her knowledge of working in law courts, Tina guessed he was either a solicitor or a barrister. She nodded in his direction at Tamsin, who slowly moved in for 'the kill.'

It couldn't have been easier. Their 'target' put up no resistance whatsoever, merely closing his eyes serenely (clearly believing that Christmas had come early) while Tamsin expertly removed his semi-rigid uncut cock from its hiding place. Both girls then began to wank him off with slow, sensuous hand movements. It was Tamsin who sensed the lawyer's tell-tale twitch, signalling that his orgasm was imminent. She nudged her partner in the ribs just in time for the waterproof 'blanket' to be draped over the exploding male member. His several body jerks indicated that he had delivered a very large load ("Bang goes my waterproof," thought Tina).

Outside the station, the women were convulsed with laughter. As they rounded the corner - headed for their usual cocktail bar - Tina's curiosity got the better of her. Before dumping her coat in a litter bin, she gingerly unfolded it to take a look at the guy's spunk. There, set amongst the still-warm semen, was a £10 note.

"Wow," she screeched. "The drinks are on him"

"Hey hun," said Tamsin, "maybe we sould go into buisness as 'The London Underground Frotters'."

Published 
Written by pentup47
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