Saturday, October 13, 2012

NYC subway, 1938 SeXStoRY

Raymond had thought Brigitte's lusty oral performance in the crowded subway car her first Monday in the city had been brought on by the novelty of the thing, the new experience of being crushed between strange bodies and the speed and rumble of the train, and would wear off by her second or third ride. Several nights later he realized, as he grabbed her hand and tried to lead her discreetly toward the empty last car while she played openly with his crotch right through his trousers, that he'd been dead wrong. “You'd better be ready to sit on this thing when we get in there,” he grunted, his voice a lot less nasal and barely recognizable in such a low tone. Brigitte made no comment, except to latch her mouth onto his neck. “Well, fuck, you gonna start ruinin' my collars now, too?” Her answering giggle sounded d***k even though they hadn't so much as glanced at the bar on their way out of the club. They weren't more than halfway to the open door he was aiming for, but he pushed her up against the side of the train in the space between two windows and pinned her to it with his body, torso to torso. She gazed back at him, icy hot blue eyes mostly hidden by her lashes, and he kissed her, forcing her head back as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Raymond tore his mouth away from Brigitte's before she could respond and noted, with smug satisfaction, how swollen her lips were after just that short kiss, and that her tongue slid out as if looking for his. They stumbled into the car with only a cursory look around to make sure they were alone. The doors slid shut behind them and the train began to move. Brigitte had Raymond's pants down his thighs in a few seconds flat but there was no way he was sitting bare-assed on those seats and she knew it. Without missing a step in their awkward dance, she spun so her back faced him and bent over to balance her hands flat on the seat nearest them. His chuckle sounded almost more like a growl, and he flipped the skirt of her dress up with a neat flick of his wrist. Two fingers slid between her thighs. He teased her clit through the scrap of lace underwear he'd bought her on a whim and his fingers came away slick. “Don't toy with me, Raymond,” she admonished him, grinding back with an artful twist of her hips, his cock chafing against that lace, making him groan. “Thought you liked being toyed with,” he f***ed out through his teeth. “Mmm, I do, but you said this was an express, didn't you? I want to make sure I'll get mine.” Grabbing her hips, he dug his fingers in. “You'll fucking get it alright.” Maggie was a cute but mousy brunette, invisible for most of her life, a nonentity, so it came as no great shock to her when that striking blonde woman and her rather odd-looking—well dressed, but odd-looking—male companion looked right over her where she sat in the corner and began to go at it like sex maniacs. Then the woman did her little spin so her back was facing the man and he subsequently lifted her dress up over her hips. That, Maggie decided, was eye-opening. She made a mental note, as she sank lower into her seat, that she needed to offer to help Louise catch up with her typing more often if the late night rides home were gonna be like this. Raymond didn't push Brigitte panties down or even pull them aside. Pressing his hips up tight against hers, he dragged his cock between her legs, forcing the rough, wet lace to nestle up between the slick lips of her snatch and chafe on her clit. He did it for a while, enjoying the way Brigitte wriggled in his grasp and snarled at him over her shoulder. But when the lace snagged on the head of his cock, scratching a very sensitive spot, he decided he'd had enough and it was time to get a move on. Gripping the waistband, he pulled the panties down to her knees. “You ready, honey?” “Raymond Di Genova, I could slap y-” She cut herself off with a choked whimper when he thrust roughly inside her, to the hilt. He stood still, acclimating himself to the tight warmth he was buried in. “You were sayin', baby?” he rasped, grinning at her reflection in the window. She crawled forward and away from him, pausing long enough for him to wonder what she was doing before she pushed back onto him, taking him so deep so fast that he hit that sweet spot inside her with a vengeance, making her scream at the top of her lungs. That scream thrilled Maggie to the very marrow of her bones. Her mother hadn't flinched in telling her about sex as a c***d, but her explanations had always been so colorless and clinical. Yet Maggie had always known about the other side of it, the giddy guilt of discovering and squirreling away old French postcards that showed off soft, round breasts and bottoms and thick cocks sprouting from hairy balls; the whispered powder room debates over whether or not the size of a man's endowments made any difference if he lacked skill; the flushed cheeks of one of the girls in the steno pool after she'd spent a clandestine weekend with the boyfriend she wasn't even engaged to yet. For all that taboo vicarious excitement she'd enjoyed so far, this was something entirely different. Maggie's friend Lena may have found rapture that long weekend in the summer, contorting herself into positions heretofore unknown to civilized society and exercised muscle groups and vocal chords that weren't meant to be exerted that way for the course of their lifespan and certainly not all within 48 hours' time, but could she possibly have enjoyed herself as much as this blonde harlot and the man at her back? Somehow Maggie doubted it. The train was rumbling merrily along and they were using the imperfect rhythm, each to his or her own advantage. They would settle into an easy sway and then a bump in the track would cause one or the other to interrupt the steady beat with an abrupt push forward or backward, resulting in barks or shrieks of pleasure that made the fine hairs on Maggie's arms, and the back of her neck, stand straight up at attention. She watched with glazed eyes and almost slack lips when the man's two slender, finely-boned hands reached forward and yanked down the tight bodice of the blonde's dress, revealing that the woman hadn't been wearing a brassiere. Which, Maggie reflected, would have been just as well with a dress that close-fitting. With her upper torso practically parallel to the floor, her breasts hung like obscene pendulums and her nipples showed pink and stiff between the man's plucking fingers. Each time he twisted them, the blonde's body rippled like that of a cat stretching after a nap, and he would grunt with throaty triumph. At that point, Brigitte was on the verge of coming. Raymond knew there was no point in trying to delay it, so he wrapped a forearm around her chest and stuck his other hand down to where he plunged mercilessly in and out of her and rubbed the pads of his three fingers in tight, constant circles around her clit. She came in a fury of spasms and shakes (neither she nor Raymond hearing Maggie's sympathetic gasp) and he just barely managed, gritting his teeth and scrunching up his eyes, not to come with her. They had at least ten minutes left before the train reached its destination; he had a few other tricks in store and he knew Brigitte was good for them. There was a folded copy of the Post on a seat nearby; Raymond grabbed it and threw it down so it fell open neatly like a book. He shoved his pants down to his ankles and spun around with an arm slung around Brigitte's waist so her back was still facing him. As he slumped down into the seat (not too hard or too fast; he didn't want his ass to look or feel like it'd been smacked with a hot waffle iron), he took Brigitte down with him. He didn't give her a lot of time to settle herself because while she wriggled around she was grinding down squarely on his cock and he wasn't going to last long if she did that for any length of time. So he took advantage during a lull and pushed back inside her, so smoothly and easily that he hit that sweet spot inside her dead-on yet again, without intending it. By the grace of God, Brigitte didn't come. Holding her down tight, he thrust up into her again and again, that one awkward lock of dark hair flopping over his bald spot and bouncing vehemently against his forehead. His feet in their impeccably shined shoes slipped several times on the floor and he grunted, making faces that were compellingly erotic, if not exactly attractive. Maggie felt a droplet of sweat trickle down the back of her neck and her mouth go dry. She could see beads of sweat rolling similarly from the blonde's hairline down her neck and between her breasts; one even dripped off the tip of a nipple. Without realizing it, Maggie began daydreaming about how the couple would react if she stood up, marched over there and sucked off that little bit of sweat. The thought took her breath away. Raymond and Brigitte were also getting short of breath, gasping and gulping like fish out of water. Brigitte pitched forward, holding on to Raymond's bony knees as he gripped the cheeks of her ass, tight enough for his fingers to leave marks behind, and f***ed her up and down on his cock, knowing how much that got her motor going. And she didn't disappoint. Her body began to rumble in unison with the train. Raymond's toes curled and he knew there was no use bracing himself but he tried anyway. Brigitte came, yowling like an alley cat, and he held on for a good two seconds before he followed, barking and jerking uncontrollably in the seat. It finished and he abruptly slumped down like an engine suddenly cut off. Brigitte was still folded over, but her hold on Raymond's knees had loosened and he breathing was almost regular. Maggie's hands hurt. Looking down into her lap, she found that her fingers were wound so tightly around her purse straps that her knuckles were white and cramped. Smiling ruefully, she spread her palms flat on her skirt and rubbed back and forth until she found a little relief. “We're going to be hitting the station soon,” Raymond muttered raspily, running his fingers through his lank, damp hair. “Mhm.” Despite Raymond's warning, Brigitte wasn't in any particular hurry. Raymond found he couldn't really be bothered, either. It was late, wasn't like the station would be crowded, anyway. Brigitte finally moved off him and he pouted playfully, stroking the curves of her ass as she stood up and smoothed down her skirt to sit beside him. He wasn't surprised when she bent over and took his cock into her mouth up to the root, carefully and thoroughly lapping and sucking up the wetness that tasted of the both of them, but he made a soft noise in his throat just the same. Maggie did the same thing, nearly biting down on her tongue, and in so doing almost missed the popping noise when Brigitte let Raymond's cock slip from her mouth. Raymond stood to pull his pants back up and Brigitte began to giggle. “What the hell's so funny?” Raymond asked with good-natured bemusement, looking at her over his shoulder with his pants just past his knees. It took Brigitte several seconds to compose herself. She peeled the newspaper from Raymond's bare ass and showed him the headline: “Wrong Way Corrigan” printed backwards, faded now because some of the ink had been transferred to his skin. “Aw, shit!” he grumbled, tugging his trousers all the way up and buttoning them. “Shaddup,” he added to Brigitte, who was still giggling as she shimmied her panties back into place. Somehow they'd made themselves presentable by the time the train pulled up to the station and stopped beside the platform. Raymond offered Brigitte his arm with a twist of his lips and she demurely took it. Just then the doors slid open and Maggie got up and sailed on by them with a swing in her hips that had never been there before but would never leave after this. Raymond and Brigitte blinked and looked at one another, then hurried out with renewed fervor and a specific intention.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.

Sitemap7 Sitemap8 Sitemap9 Sitemap10 Sitemap11 Sitemap12 Sitemap13 Sitemap14 Sitemap15