The train is already pulling out of London when he interrupts my scrolling. “Is anyone sitting here?” he asks.
“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” I reply distractedly, briefly glancing up. It’s only when he sits down opposite me that I properly look at him. He’s a few years older than me, with a neat, trimmed black beard flecked with grey, and he’s smartly dressed in a dark suit. Well-groomed men are a definite turn on for me.
Then I notice the folder he’s holding; the same one I’ve got in my own bag.
“I think we were at the same event today,” I say, glad to have an excuse to talk to him.
“I know,” he replies. “I noticed you.”
I blush, taken aback. “I don’t think I saw you,” I tell him, suddenly embarrassed. “There were a lot of people there.”
“There were,” he says, breaking out into a smile. “But some people just stand out.”
After a moment of shy silence, he asks what I do, and we get to talking about our jobs and the conference. I learn that he used to work with a friend of mine, and that we have several mutual acquaintances. We laugh while exchanging stories and I learn some juicy gossip about a former boss (the ultimate foreplay). This talk, and his easygoing charm, is making me horny—and, it seems, him too.
When I feel his foot push against mine, the sexual tension that’s been building reaches a fever pitch. As we lock eyes, I slip my foot out of my shoe and begin to rub his shin. When his hand lands on my knee, I whisper that maybe we should continue the conversation elsewhere.
“I was thinking that, too,” he says with a seductive smirk. When he stands up, I don’t hesitate to follow him down the train car to the bathroom. I look around quickly as we enter to make sure no one is looking. He presses the button to close the door, and, before I know it, he’s undone his belt and dropped his pants. “You need to press the button again to lock it,” I say with a laugh. “Unless you want to get caught?”
He pulls me towards him and kisses me, pushing his tongue deep into my mouth. I respond eagerly before freeing myself to drop to my knees and flip his cock out of his boxers: it’s already hard and inviting. I lubricate it with my saliva, teasingly caress the end with my tongue, and then take it into my mouth. As I do, he lets out a heady sigh. I feel his cock swell inside me as I stroke and suck, moving rhythmically back and forth along the shaft, gathering speed. Soon, his body begins to stiffen, and he splutters: “I’m about to come.”
I pull back. “You’re not coming yet,” I say, firmly. “You’ll come inside me.”
I take a condom from my bag, step out of my pants and underwear, and bend over the sink. I need him inside me, and I’ve edged him just enough to make sure he needs it too. I reach for his cock, magnificently erect and dribbling pre-cum, slide the condom over the end, and guide him into my wet pussy. His thrusts are quick and hard, his thighs slapping vigorously against my ass, and I watch him in the mirror, reveling in our joint pleasure. I rub my clit and soon we’re coming together: him with a stifled moan; me biting my lip, fighting to stay quiet as the orgasm rips through me.
We stay still for a moment, breathing hard and kissing softly. We laugh as we disentangle.
“So,” he asks, breaking the satisfied silence, “which session did you enjoy best today?”
“Do you even need to ask?” I reply.
Back in our seats, we sit in conspiratorial silence until we reach his stop, the one before mine. I had slipped a piece of paper into his laptop bag with my number, but he never called; not that I was really expecting him to. Maybe that’s for the best. I have the memory of a spontaneous, steamy encounter with a hot stranger—no strings, no complications.
*Name has been changed
