Erotic masturbating story of a womans fantasy of meeting a commuter

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As soon as she walked out of the elevator bank and onto the street, a big whoosh of breath expelled from her and flooded into her. Cecily had barely been breathing, she had been working so hard. She had had a long day at work—all of her days were long, to be honest; her job was demanding and detail-oriented.

She entered the nightly race to the subway station and hustled down the stairs at the sound of the Pavlovian ding-dong that meant the subway car doors were about to close. Cecily found a path through the sardine-packed crowd and on to the train where she managed to find a seat.

“Excuse me,” she said softly to the people on either side of her. Taking the subway might be an animalistic activity, but she was determined to be human. She searched for her novel at the bottom of her tote bag and did not bother to remove her golden shades which made the pages of the book look like age-yellowed pages from a vintage book.

A sudden stop on the train jostled her, and she fell into her neighbour and apologised again profusely.

“No problem,” the woman beside her replied with a smile and a nonchalant wave of her hand.

Cecily picked up her book from her lap, and that is when she looked up and saw him.

The fellow commuter sitting across from her had his suit jacket haphazardly thrown over his lap, and his tie was undone. It was clear he had had a long day as well, but his eyes were focused on her, and she felt herself moisten at her temples and between her thighs.

Cecily was not aroused merely just by looking at an attractive man. This man was becoming a regular part of her evening commute. She had never been this close to him before though, or rather he had never been on display like this before her. He usually was close enough that she could look at him, but this close that she had to avoid looking up because he was the obvious thing to look at. And she could not hide her eyes because usually, she wore dark shades, but the golden-hued shades she was wearing would make it evident if she looked at him for anything more than a second. She wore them because they matched with the cream-coloured dress that also matched with the similar coloured bra and panty set that she wore underneath.

It was summer, and she wanted to look like light.

But it was while she was wondering where to place her eyes that she noticed that he was looking directly at her. He looked at her face and allowed himself a slow, careful

survey of her body that made…