That afternoon it had rained as if the sky had shattered. The streets were completely gridlocked, a chaos of honking cars and Ubers that never showed up. I had to get to my husband’s company dinner, one of those events where the wives size each other up to see who looks the most put-together. I wanted his colleagues to see that his wife, at 32, still looks damn good. That’s why I wore the black skirt just above the knee, but really short, the kind that rides up with every step. The white silk blouse had a scandalous neckline that showed the deep cleavage between my big round tits, but I covered it with a fitted black blazer. Hair loose falling down my back, lips painted intense red. I felt beautiful, elegant… and a little slutty.
Living so close to the subway station seemed like a good idea. “I’ll get there fast, tell my husband to pick me up at the exit and done.” That was my worst mistake.
When I got down to the platform, the heat was brutal. People were packed like sardines. Construction workers, bricklayers in sweat-soaked t-shirts, smell of wet earth and tired man. I tried to back away, but I was already surrounded. The blazer was suffocating me, so I took it off and folded it over my arm. My tits were more exposed, nipples slightly visible through the thin silk from the air conditioning.
Suddenly, a tall, dark-skinned guy around 40, built strong from carrying bricks all day, smiled at me. Tattooed arms and big calloused hands.
“Easy, babe” he said in my ear with a hoarse voice. “On the next train we get on. I’ll help you.”
I smiled nervously. His kind gesture comforted me in the middle of that chaos.
When the train arrived, the human wave pushed. He wrapped a strong arm around my waist and practically carried me inside. I ended up pressed against him, my back to his hard chest, his body completely smashed against mine. He was much taller, so from above he had a front-row view of my cleavage. My tits rose and fell with every agitated breath.
“Thanks” I murmured.
“The pleasure is all mine” he answered in my ear, voice deep and hot. “Besides… now I have you nice and close. This way I protect you better.”
His big hands settled on my waist and pulled me even tighter against him. I felt his cock already half-hard pressing against my ass. My sigh was all he needed to take it as permission.
The train started moving. People stared at their phones or into space. No one was paying attention.
His right hand slid slowly down my hip, found the curve of my ass and squeezed hard.
“What a delicious ass you have, babe” he growled in my ear, hot breath on my neck. “Nice and firm and big, just how I like them.”
I didn’t pull away. I didn’t say anything. My silence encouraged him.
His thick fingers slipped under my short skirt. He pushed aside my tiny thong with two fingers and brushed my already wet pussy lips.
“Fuck… you’re already soaked, little slut” he whispered, chuckling low.
He spread my legs a bit with his knee and shoved two thick fingers inside me all at once. I moaned softly. They were much bigger than my husband’s cock, stretching my pussy in a deliciously painful way at the same time. He started finger-fucking me, in and out, while his thumb rubbed my swollen clit in fast hard circles. That man really knew how to touch a woman. From the first contact the electricity I felt and the arousal were nothing like the boring Sunday afternoon sex with my husband.
The train rocked, people swayed, and no one noticed that this stranger was finger-banging me deep in the middle of the car. My pussy made wet obscene sounds with every thrust. I felt myself about to cum.
“That’s it, good little bitch… cum on my hand” he ordered in my ear.
And I did. I came hard, biting my lip to keep from screaming, my pussy clenching his fingers, hot squirts soaking his whole hand. My legs shook so much I almost fell.
He pulled his fingers out, glistening with my juices, and stuck them in his mouth right in front of me.
“Nothing like the taste of a bitch in heat” he growled, licking them slowly.
“What station are you getting off at?” he asked.
I was in the clouds, legs weak.
“…the 8th” I stammered.
“You missed it, little bitch… we get off at the next one.”
He took my hand and pulled me out of the train at the following station. I didn’t even look back to see if anyone had noticed us. The flow of people coming in and out seemed completely oblivious to what had just happened.
He found a public bathroom at the end of the platform, pushed me inside and locked the door. He pinned me against the wall, hiked my skirt up to my waist and dropped his pants. His cock sprang out thick, veiny, dark and rock hard, the head already shining with precum.
“Wet this too, slut” he ordered.
He slammed into me in one brutal thrust. I screamed. He covered my mouth with his big sweaty hand.
“Shhh… you can’t scream, babe” he whispered in my ear, hoarse voice. “You don’t want anyone to discover us. Bite my shoulder.”
I bit his shoulder hard while he fucked me like an animal: deep fast thrusts, his heavy balls slapping my clit. He pulled my big tits out of the blouse and squeezed them hard.
“What delicious big tits you have… whore, heavy… I wish I had time to fuck them too.”
I came again, squeezing his cock with my pussy, juices dripping down my thighs. He couldn’t hold back anymore.
“I’m gonna fill you, bitch… do you want me to fill you?”
“Yes… cum inside… fill me completely” I moaned against his shoulder.
He buried himself to the hilt and exploded: thick hot ropes flooded my pussy, so much that I felt it overflow and start running down my legs.
He stayed inside for a few more seconds, breathing heavy, then pulled out. His thick white cum dripped down my thighs.
He never kissed me. He never told me his name. He just pulled up his pants, gave me a hard slap on the ass and walked out of the bathroom like nothing.
I came out a total mess: cum running down my legs, blazer wrinkled and lost somewhere, makeup ruined, hair a wreck. But I felt alive.
I saw a boutique nearby, bought a new blouse to match the skirt, got in a taxi and on the way I gave the driver a show: I took off the stained blouse and put on the new one in front of him, feeling like a queen. I combed my hair, retouched my red lipstick and arrived at the dinner.
My husband looked me up and down and said:
“You could have made a bit more effort to get ready… and look at the time you arrive. Honestly, you can never do anything right.”
I smiled inside.
I didn’t care one bit.
Because inside my pussy I could still feel that stranger’s hot cum slowly dripping out… and that was the only thing that mattered.
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