NYC Blue Line Subway – 155th Street, Thursday Night
It’s a busy Thursday night on the north side of Manhattan. A perfect combination of conferences and events has turned a somewhat easy transit into a real pain in the ass.
No one is apologizing or excusing themselves at this point. It's everyone for themselves to get through the turn styles, down the stairs, and find space on the platform.
At least it’s the middle of summer, so the evening air is tolerable. That is, until everyone crams into the trains.
Southbound to Spring, Jayla whispers to herself, the distinctive ring of an approaching train causing her heart to race. “No,” she involuntarily lets out, purse in hand, high heels tapping on the concrete. “No, no! Move! Move, please!” she tells the crowd, in a sweet voice that will smoothly stab someone in the fucking neck if they don’t let her through.
Shit – the approaching train is already full. There’s no way that more people can cram in there.
After the hustle-shuffle of feet and unforgiving shoulders, Jayla shimmies and scoots her way in, finding a handle to grip for dear life as the train speeds away.
The train rocks, everyone swaying against the person nearest them in unison, human bumpers keeping everyone in place.
“Sorry,” Jayla huffs, smiling to be polite. She gives the man standing behind her a quick glance but doesn’t really notice him.
“No worries,” Shane replies, an honest remark.
In the midst of this human sardine can, Shane catches the air of cinnamon, a bit of makeup and lotion that seems to have rubbed off on him when Jayla temporarily used him as a cushion. Shane is the same height as Jayla, though she stands in heels, the back of her head just inches from his face. Jayla’s hair is done up right, curls and light glimmers of product that give her a magical shine. Standing in a violet bridesmaid’s dress, the shiny fabric leads from slender shoulders to a narrow waist and, from what Shane can make out, bare legs capped with strappy heels. She’s a babe. A total hottie. Shane has to look away, a low grunt at the thought of how much of a shame it is that he doesn’t belong to her.
The Blue Line speeds down the track, the lights of an approaching platform glowing up ahead. The car leans one way, recovers, and everyone holds on.
Jayla feels Shane lean into her from behind, but she holds tight with the one hand above her, gripping as everyone lets out some form of disagreement from the lurch. Shane’s hand touches her lower back, a simple, "I’m so sorry," from him just the same as everyone else apologizes around them. When Shane’s body finds hers, a slow jolt rushes through her. Maybe it’s the alcohol from the reception. Maybe it’s the sudden desire of wanting to be with someone while witnessing a wedding. Whatever it is, Jayla doesn’t mind the press of Shane’s body. Not one bit.
Jayla can feel Shane behind her, the warmth of him radiating. How is it that guys are always so hot, no matter what the temperature is outside?
When the train slows, Jayla shifts, pressing back into Shane. The fabric of her dress doesn’t stop Shane’s hard cock from pressing between her cheeks. The unmistakable feeling of a man’s dick squeezing against her, even when layers of clothes are present, causes an involuntary jolt of excitement to slip through Jayla. She pretends the feeling isn’t there, but silently hopes it lasts just a moment longer. She’s soon disappointed when the train comes to the next stop.
Some shuffle out. More pile in.
Jayla adjusts her stance and turns to let people in. The train departs, Jayla shifting to stand sideways to Shane. She looks somewhere else, but she knows Shane’s eyes grace her cleavage more than once.
Shane adjusts his stance, accidentally bumping into Jayla. She takes it like a champ, her eyes momentarily finding his.
Terrible, dark thoughts pass between both of them. Jayla’s a hottie. Shane works out.
They both have a long way to go before making it home, so Shane and Jayla let their minds go where their bodies cannot.
***Shane wonders about Jayla***
As Jayla faces away from him on the subway, Shane slides his hands along her hips, down her smooth legs until his hands find flawless skin. He doesn’t give a shit about what she might say, running his hands up her dress until he finds a tiny, elastic band around her waist.
“Hey,” Jayla says with a smile, holding onto the subway handle. “You didn’t even ask me for my name.”
Shane pulls on the pink string, allowing Jayla to step out of it before he stuffs the tiny fabric into his pocket. Lifting her dress, he finds an ample ass, rubbing and squeezing each cheek.
“How many do you deserve for being a bad girl, baby?”
Jayla smiles, closing her eyes. “Ten, please.”
Shane spanks her ass, one jiggly cheek at a time, loving the way she responds.
“One, daddy….Two, daddy…Three, daddy…”
***Jayla wonders about Shane***
Jayla faces away from Shane, feeling his hard cock press between her cheeks. This time, though, Shane doesn’t pull away, his hands sliding along her shoulders.
Shane’s first thought is about spanking her. All guys want to spank every girl they see, but that will come later when Jayla is ready to play.
Jayla closes her eyes, feeling Shane’s greedy hands slide over her cleavage, forcing the front of her dress down. She reaches back, stabilizing herself with his hips, letting him squeeze her bare tits.
