I caught the eight-thirty, three hours later than my usual. The trains run every thirty minutes, and I’d been trying for the eight o’clock but missed it by three minutes; it had been that kind of day. Boring meetings that ran too long, cantankerous clients, computer glitches, grouchy staff – and I’d destroyed a brand new pair of hose, snagging them on a rough spot beneath the conference table first thing that morning. That should have been a red flag, a warning to pack up and go home.

Instead, I’d trashed the ruined pantyhose and worked bare-legged all day; I suppose my legs are tan enough to pull that off, but bare legs from mid-thigh down, below the hem of my charcoal pencil skirt, made me feel very self-conscious and unprofessional. And then the late night and a long wait in the train station to cap off a perfect day!

The only thing that made the wait bearable was him. I’d noticed him as soon as he’d walked in, his stroll casual, posture confident, his navy blazer over a silver-grey t-shirt looking stylishly rumpled stretched across his broad shoulders, and his faded jeans molded to his long, muscular legs. His slightly olive complexion was darkened by beard stubble over his angular jaw and cheeks, an unusually heavy eight o’clock shadow or maybe a couple day’s growth, and his thick, black hair was sexily mussed. My eyes followed him, and my tired body responded.

His startlingly blue eyes met mine and paused for a brief second, then moved on. He took a seat a row over, his back to me, and immersed himself in his phone. I did the same, responding to texts, although my eyes returned again and again to his broad shoulders and black, wavy hair. When the small light-rail train finally showed up I found myself disproportionately pleased that he boarded the same car I did, the front one of the three.

I sat near the door, just in front of the steps, while he sat across, facing the door. The benches just fore and aft of and across from the portal steps face inward, resulting in us facing each other, while the remainder of the car has traditional forward-facing seats, two on each side of the aisle. Most were empty, the few passengers scattered about, one of the benefits of occasionally working late; in fact, the seven-thirty through nine-thirty trains are probably in the sweet spot, uncrowded, but not yet so deserted as to be scary or intimidating.

With him across from me and slightly aft, immersed again in his phone, I had an opportunity to look him over, and I immediately discovered something else that was in its sweet spot; his Levis had reached that sublime, short-lived stage where they are no longer coarse and stiff, but are not yet worn or threadbare.

Faded and comfortable, butter-soft as the finest suede, they hugged him like a concupiscent lover, forming to his shape around muscular thighs, flat belly, angular hips… and the most beautiful, perfect masculine bulge I’d ever seen! Every feature, every bulge, curve, ridge and vein of a very impressive cock was outlined clearly against the tissue-soft denim on his left thigh, the plum-sized head a defined mouthful and his heavy balls forming a large, rounded bulge above, at the juncture of those powerful thighs.

I stared. Aware I was staring and of the increasing heat in my belly I dragged my eyes away, but they were pulled back as if by a powerful magnetic force. I was tingling, and I could feel the wet, slippery response of my own sex between my legs, a sudden moisture to match my racing heart and burst of arousal. Through steely will, I dragged my eyes away from his beautiful bulge again, up to his face… and found cool, blue eyes looking back into mine, a small, enigmatic smile quirking his full lips.

I felt the heat of my blush, a heat matching that between my legs, and jerked my head around to the right, staring stonily toward the front of the train. We stopped; people got off. Moving once again, I chanced a peek. I had to; those fucking perfect Levis, skin-tight 501s! He was back into his phone… and his cock was larger! I’d assumed he was hugely hard before, but no; he’d definitely grown.

And again he’d caught me looking! I blushed anew, looked down at the floor… but had to look again. I tried to make it a casual passing glance, but he was watching me, and when I looked he moved his hand to his crotch, and my eyes, against my will, followed. He traced the outline of his thick cock, intentionally teasing me, daring me to watch! I accepted the challenge, my body quivering with arousal as I watched him touch himself through that soft, supple, pale-blue fabric.

With thumb and index finger he traced around his fat ridge, outlining the shape of his long shaft, now assuredly rock-hard. His other hand cupped his balls, obscenely fondling and lifting them as he gently masturbated himself through the soft Levis. I was almost panting with arousal, my panties soaked and sticking to my smooth, wet pussy. The train came to the next stop, and a few more passengers disembarked.

Still fondling himself, his eyes dropped to my legs, and as the train again started moving I felt myself shift forward slightly, my legs parting, short, tight skirt inching upwards. That enigmatic smile again and a tiny lift of his chin signaled his approval, and I could almost feel his gaze as a living thing on my inner thighs. I wanted to see him, to watch him touch himself, and he seemed to expect a quid pro quo. God, I was getting so wet!

At the next stop the last three people on our car - other than the two of us - stood and moved to the door. When he rose behind them, bringing up the back of the line, I almost cried out for him not to go! My stop was next, only a few more minutes down the line… but what might we accomplish in those few minutes?

As the train stopped and they all shuffled forward my heart fell and my arousal sagged. It was so unfair! Most nights I prayed for the train ride to pass quickly and it never did; this night, when I wanted it to slow to a crawl, it flew by. I was so horny by that point, so needful, and now I’d never know! Libido flagging, I slumped in my seat, watching the passengers step off the train out of the corner of my eye until the soft Levis and his impressive package came into view.

To my surprise – and consternation – rather than following the others off the train he slid in next to me, his thigh against mine, our bodies touching. I could feel his heat and the hard muscles of his leg, and I could smell his cologne and a rich, healthy masculine scent, a combination of leather and oak, musk and salt air.

His sudden nearness startled me and I tensed at his touch, gasping a small, alarmed, “Oh!”

His lips near my ear, mint on his breath, he said, “Relax! You’re not going to do anything you don’t want to do.” His hand moved to the back of my neck and then to my shoulder, massaging.

“Relax, I said! You’re very tense; I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to ask you to do anything you haven’t already imagined.” His strong hand kneading my neck and shoulder was starting to feel very good, and my libido flared anew, despite my trepidation.

With his other hand he was still touching himself, gently masturbating, but now he reached out and took my hand, moving it to his cock and then covering it with his own, forming my much smaller hand around the thick, hard ridge of his erection. “You’ve wanted to do this.”

“Yes…” My fingers closed on his bulge, squeezing him and feeling him pulse. I was extremely aware of the thickness of his cock, and of how hard and hot it felt in my hand. The butterflies low in my tummy fluttered around, dodging the electric sparks of arousal shooting around just below, and when I felt his hand on my bare thigh they all went crazy. “Ohh, god…”

“Go ahead, play with it. You’ve been looking at it ever since we got on the train.”

I started to object but realized it was foolish; he’d seen me looking, and every time I’d tried to look away my eyes had been inexorably drawn back to the unmistakable bulge of his big cock.

I ran my fingers up and down the hard length of it and gently squeezed the softer bulge of his heavy testicles. My pussy was absolutely dripping, creamy-slick and feverishly hot.

I desperately wanted to feel it, to stroke him, but… “My stop is coming up next; it’s only a few minutes away.”

He smiled. “We already passed mine.” I looked up at him, and he continued, “I’ll need to cross over and ride back the other way, but I had a hunch it might be worth it.”

His fingers slid slowly up the inside of my thigh, and as they did my legs parted for him. I didn’t even think about it, didn’t part them intentionally; it was merely my body’s response to his fingers gently teasing me.

He leaned close, his lips at my ear and his hot breath on my neck. “If we have so little time, I suppose we’d better hurry things along, huh?” he whispered, as his wandering fingers found my pussy through my wet panties, stroking maddeningly over the sodden gusset of that tiny lace barrier. “Mmm, so wet. You must have been enjoying some very interesting fantasies as you admired my cock.”

I snickered at his arrogance. “You sure are a cocky one!”

I knew as soon as I said it that I’d made a poor choice of words, and he laughed out loud. “As you noticed, and seemed to enjoy.” His fingers pushed the gusset of my panties aside and parted my slick, puffy lips, and I heard him suck in a quick breath. He groaned, low in his throat. “Mmm, such a horny girl! So very ready, so hot and slippery.”

I moaned softly as he slid his fingers the length of my crevice, from tiny rosebud to hard, jutting clit, a spasm of pure sensation running through me as he stroked that sensitive bit. “God! Let me see you… I want to touch you too.”

I regretted my request as soon as I made it because it meant he had to remove his fingers from my pussy to unbutton his pants. Before he stood to open his pants, though, he raised his fingers to his nose for a quick sniff, and then licked them, tasting my abundant honey. That simple act raised my flame of arousal to full inferno status, and when he rose to his feet and unbuttoned the five-button closure of his 501s, lifting out his heavy balls and his very thick, very erect cock, I immediately wrapped my fingers around it.

He was thick and hard, hot and throbbing with arousal, and as always I was amazed at the silky softness of the skin of a man’s cock, and the way it moves so seductively over his hard shaft as my fingers glide over it. My mouth watered with the sudden urge to take him, to taste and feel the swollen, rounded head in my mouth, and whisk away the shimmering droplet at its tip with my tongue, but I knew better. I knew nothing about him, and to take his cock into my mouth was simply too risky.

Instead, I stroked him, my hand around that big cock, finger and thumb not quite reaching each other as my hand moved up and down, smearing the slick of his leakage around until the plump head glistened. I cupped his heavy sack with my other hand and thrilled at the weight and feel of his balls as I earned a groan of approval.

He lowered himself beside me again, and I turned toward him enough that I could keep both hands on his package. His hand immediately returned to my thigh and quickly moved up to my dripping pussy. He wasted no time, both of us all too aware of my approaching stop, and pushed aside my sodden panties so that he could enter me.

His fingers played in my slit for just a few seconds, sliding from top to bottom, teasing my rosebud at one limit and flicking my hard clit at the other. I gasped and thrust against his teasing fingers and he slowly pushed into me, two slippery fingers stretching me open and going deep. His thumb crushed my clit, circling, manipulating, demanding, and I felt my orgasm building, rushing forward.

I was going to come hard and fast – embarrassingly fast, like some horny, wanton slut that had just been begging for it, but I didn’t care. It felt so good, so intense, the arousal that had been building from the moment I’d laid eyes on him and which had so surged at the sight of his incredible masculine bulge now overwhelming me, carrying me along in its powerful rush.

I cried out as I came, my hips bucking against his probing fingers, and I felt him throb and spasm in my hand, his thick cock suddenly swelling and hardening as the first huge surge of glistening white cum burst from the tip of his big cock and arced across the aisle. Time seemed to slow as the leading droplets of the long chain splattered against the front of the bench across from us, the rest falling in slow motion, a glistening string of pearls hanging in mid-air over the aisle, slowly descending.

My own orgasm stretched and thrummed through me, the contractions each distinct and powerful, the spasms and pulses of his thick cock in my hand setting the tempo for my own frantic, insuppressible pulses, my pussy contracting powerfully on his fingers. He groaned again, his body straining as my eyes remained locked on his pumping, flexing cock, the sight of rope after rope of thick, white cum spraying from him an incredibly powerful visual stimulus.

His second rope of cum spattered onto the aisle floor alongside the glistening pearls of his first, followed by a third and fourth as my orgasm matched him pulse for pulse. As my orgasm peaked and began to wane, his did as well, several smaller, less powerful spurts of semen issuing forth onto my hand, his pants, and his cock and balls as his body slumped in sudden exhaustion.

Gasping, panting, I looked up, only then remembering the tiny cameras mounted at the front and rear of the car, but also seeing the lights of my station rapidly approaching; our tryst had been sudden and unexpected, but somehow perfectly timed, our teasing arousal and awareness of the time constraints causing each of us to climax quickly. I couldn’t do anything about the cameras, but I had to get off at my stop!

I pushed his hand away from my pussy, his fingers languidly sliding out of me and coming away glistening wetly. My heart was still pounding, my body throbbing and breathing still rapid and shallow as I rose to my feet, the train slowing. My fingers were slick with his semen, and the raw, masculine scent of his cum filled my nostrils.

I looked down at him, admiring the sight of his slowly softening cock drooping out of his snug jeans. “This is my stop. You wait and get off at the next one to ride back.”

He nodded agreeably. “Okay… hey, thanks, that was fun.”

“It was.” The train was slowly grinding to a stop. “Can I ask your name?”

He gave me that quirky, sexy smile again. “Let’s keep the mystery alive. Maybe I’ll tell you next time.”

“What makes you so sure there’ll be a next time?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Just a hunch. I ride this train every night, the eight-thirty. Five days a week.”

“I never do.”

“Tonight you did; I think you will again.” That arrogant smile again.

My turn to shrug. “Probably not; we’ll see.” The train stopped and the door folded back, opening. “Goodnight, Levis guy. Thanks for tonight.”

He nodded, grinning. “You’re welcome. See you soon.”

I shook my head at his arrogance as I stepped onto the platform and the door unfolded behind me, closing as the train began to move. Our eyes met through the glass as it moved away, and I was suddenly very aware of my dripping-wet panties and the slight shake in my knees, and his cum on my hands. That had been bold and daring, sudden and utterly unlike me; I’d never done anything like that before in my life, not even close, but tonight it had filled a need and eradicated a very bad day from my mind.

I went down the stairs and toward my car in the mostly-empty lot, knowing that my husband was waiting and that he would wonder why I was so eager to drag him into the bedroom the minute I got home – not that he’d object! I needed a cock in me, needed to be fucked, my fire lit and stoked but not nearly quenched.

He’d probably also wonder when I started working late more often and not getting home until after nine. If only he looked as good in a pair of 501s as Levis guy…