He hadn’t seen her since that day in October. For weeks after their encounter, he looked forward to the morning subway ride. For the first 5 stops he’d scan the car looking for the woman with long black hair, prominent nose, shapely ass and magical cell phone.
Weeks turned into a month. The elation over the encounter began to turn to depression. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, the look in her eye, the feel of her firm ass in his hand. The thrill of danger on a crowded subway car. Whenever he had a free moment, he'd rehash the encounter in his head and fantasize about meeting her again. Did she ever think about him? Did she do this all the time? If he saw her again, would she acknowledge him? Sometimes his fantasy next encounter involved talking to her, hearing her say how she thought about him all the time, how they should get dinner and a hotel room together. And he'd kiss her on her full, pillowy lips.
Being a rational person, the man tried to block the fantasies. He was a middle-aged soccer dad commuting in a city of 8 million people. The chances of running into her again were slim if she didn't ride this line regularly. And if they met, why would she want to talk? This made sense but left him feeling empty. The anticipation of meeting her again was almost as titillating as the experience itself.
Mid November brought the cold to New York. Leaves off the trees, early sunset and cold blasts down the avenues replaced crisp fall days. Sweaters and vests gave way to long coats and scarves. The man hustled to the 1 at 50th and Broadway to start his long commute home. He ran down the steps, blasted through the turnstile and leapt into the subway car just as the car was leaving the station. Breathing deeply, he unbuttoned his mid-thigh length peacoat and took off his gray wool cap in the overheated subway car. He left the office a few minutes later than usual and may miss the 5:30 ferry. Missing that ferry meant waiting in the cold for over an hour for the next one. If the connecting 2-3 subway was on time, he should just make the 5:30.
At the next stop, 42nd St., the man shuffled across the crowded underground platform to wait for the next train. Looking up at the display monitor, he saw the next Brooklyn bound 2 train was due in 2 minutes. A face further down the platform jolted him. A petite, black-haired, olive skinned woman with a thick nose and full lips. Was it her? He stopped short and stared down the platform. Her face vanished. The man started to walk down the platform, bumping into people as he scanned hundreds of faces. He reached the end of the platform and stopped. She wasn't here. It was just his imagination.
The 2 rolled into the station. The man cursed himself for allowing his imagination to run away again and stepped into the aged subway car.
Three stops later, the subway stopped, doors opened and the conductor's voice came over the speakers. "There are signal problems in Brooklyn. This is the last stop on this train. Everyone must get off. We apologize for the inconvenience" With this, the entire car emptied onto the sloped Chambers St. platform. Now the man would definitely miss the 5:30. Goddamnit.
Resigned to his fate, the man pulled out his iPhone to look for a podcast. As he scanned through his feed something bumped into his hip. He glanced up at a black-haired head and screen.
~Hey. Want to play?~
Heat flashed through the man's body. Holy Shit, it really is her. This time, there was no hesitation. "Oh God, yes," he said loudly.
And the woman began to make her way toward the end of the crowded platform. He followed behind her, holding his breath and feeling his cock get instantly hard. The woman weaved and pushed her way through the packed platform. The man followed closely, saying "Excuse Me" repeatedly to jostled passengers.
They reached the far edge of the still crowded platform. The woman stepped into a slight gap in the concrete wall. The gap housed a painted steel beam. The petite woman stood between the edges of the beam, facing away from the man.
She typed on her phone for a few seconds then lifted it over her shoulder.
~Hold your coat open~
Hold my coat open? WTF? As the man looked down at his coat, he realized what she meant. If he put his hands in his pockets and spread them, he would block her from view. He put his hands in his pockets and reached out to the sides of the gap in the wall.
The woman reached her left hand back and felt his stomach, then his belt buckle, then his cock through his wool pants. She squeezed his shaft. The man groaned. It was like a dream come true. Except that he was so excited he thought he may come in his pants before they even started.
She reached up to his belt again and tried to tug it loose. From her awkward angle, she could not pop the clasp. The man pulled out his right hand from his coat and quickly undid the clasp to his belt and the button on his pants. He put his hand back in his coat pocket and resumed his position. She reached back again and pulled his pants and boxer briefs down. His rigid shaft and swollen balls sprang out.
With briefs pressing against the base of his balls, she grabbed the bottom of his shaft and slowly slid her hand up, pausing at the top to squeeze his swollen head. Every nerve ending on his cock was tingling. He could feel the warmth of her hand, the breeze from the platform, the heaviness of his balls.
She slowly ran her hand up and down his shaft 3 more times. The man was trying to breathe deeply. He felt like coming but didn't want this to end. After the slow strokes, the woman changed her position. She turned toward the man, looking down with her hair covering her face. She took her right hand and grabbed his testicles. Her petite hands barely held them. She gave them a hard squeeze.
"Wow," she said. It was the first time he heard her voice. It was low, husky.
Keeping her right hand clasped on his balls, she encircled his shaft with her thumb and forefinger of her left hand and began to stroke vigorously. The man was seconds from coming. A burning sensation in his testicles quickly intensified.
The woman began to tickle his sack with her nails while continuing to pump his cock. That was it. The man croaked, "Here I come"
With that, he erupted. The fire from inside him released. She continued to pump and caress throughout the eruption. It was the longest, most intense ejaculation he ever experienced. He felt like he released a pint of cum. Breathing hard, the man closed his eyes and felt his entire body relax.
The man looked down to speak to her. As he opened his mouth, the woman briefly hugged his torso, pushed his coat out of her way and stepped past the man. The man said, "Hey, wait" and began to turn.
He couldn’t turn around. His still erect cock was hanging out of his pants. He stared at a filthy steel girder in a crowded subway platform, slowly dripping cum on the floor.