A real story follows, but one I just had to post here on Lit - comments welcome. Given the views of the week, there may yet be more stories to follow.
God I've seen some fit women on the way to work this week! None more so than today on the return train journey from the daily grind and on what would ordinarily on any other day, have been another mundane journey.
You know how it is, you get on a train, find an empty pair of seats, and sit in it. However, having found somewhere, my eyes were immediately drawn to a voluptuous, big breasted blonde in just her short summer dress, and matching high heel strappy brown shoes, sitting on the other side, diagonally across and facing me. Her gorgeous breasts were practically pouring out of the plunging and straining top which, at the valley of her cleavage, even gave the occasional glimpse of the bra that was holding them in - just - the shape and size were there to see and admire, and needed no imagination. And there she sat, casually flicking through her gossip mag at the table, but legs crossed so that I could also see her upper thigh.
I knew I had to savour this moment for as long as I or her was on the train. Drawing out my 'free' newspaper from the morning outbound leg, it was strategically placed to peer casually over the top of, focusing on her cleavage, then to her thigh and back again. The newspaper stories could have said anything, but the right hand pages took more focus as it was in her direction!
The temptation to stare for longer became greater - desperate to savour every moment, but with this came the risk that she might notice - we were that close anyway, but I somehow felt that she knew I was looking and that she enjoyed it, but was playing coy like I was. On one occasion, she gently tugged at the material of her dress covering her right breast, to ensure she stayed in, and, then, with the mag on the table, leant casually over to read something at the top of the page, causing her goods to spill out just a little, even though there was no need for such body language.
These were lustful irrational, surreal moments to savour, whilst wondering how far she was going on the train. Could there be a chance that she was getting off at the same stop as me to prolong the lustful glances for the merest of further moments?
With me hypnotised by the view, her senses must have caught the fact I was locked on to her very aura, and as she glanced in my direction, I rapidly ruffled my paper and quickly glanced away, acting as if I'd always been reading it, whilst cursing myself that I could not make eye contact, remaining worried about the negativity rather than hoping to exchange an admiring yet appreciative gentle smile. I knew that I'd been looking and, so I was convinced she knew too. Irrespective of my actual happily married life, my mind was wandering in fantasy land. Was she spoken for? Where was she going? What was she going home to? Questions which would never be answered or were indeed answerable.
As we approached my stop, she was still flicking through her gossip mag in exactly the same pose she'd been in since the journey started. Then she reached for her car keys....could she be about to exit at my stop?
I was the first to move, resigned to a maybe as well as a maybe not. I got up, she got up and followed me to the door of the train. Conscious she was behind me, I realised she'd dropped further and further behind down the path from the platform I'm a quick walker, but I'd slowed in the hope she'd overtake. It never happened.
By the time I'd reached the car park and car, I glanced back in the direction of the station but she was nowhere in sight. Eventually as I'd concluded she'd gone elsewhere and had got into my car, she swept majestically across the car park not so far away from my car and got into her car. I just had to wait and follow her car out, as if her very presence was providing my oxygen.
Reaching my own irrational conclusions about how the car she drove said who she was, the train scene was still firmly etched on my mind and my lust spilled over into ever more lustful mutterings in my car as miraculously, we ventured the same way.
Was she going the same way as me to enable some more mind games as to where she may live? No way was I stalking her - she was just going my way, but I was merely trying vainly to work out who this mystery woman was that had captured my imagination in such a way no woman had for some time.
Convinced she knew exactly what she was doing on the train, by the way she was sitting and the way she'd dressed, and that she loved it, in the confines of my own car, I said out loud to myself that, if she was going home to anyone, if she was my other half, and had come home like that, she'd have received a rather sound seeing-to....dressed like that with so much on display. She was in no way slutty - quite classy infact, but showing plenty and seemingly so comfortable with it.
Eventually, my turn in the road was not her turn, and I watched her car trundle away until our paths had parted beyond view.
And all this on not exactly what you'd call a hot summer's day?! What chance another eye-popping lustful encounter. Let's hope there's a seat closeby for more fantasies....I look forward to sweet dreams tonight as my sub-conscious uncontrollably replays the images burnt onto my retina by this anonymous goddess who had sailed into my fantasies, yet was still very much in her reality.
All this, and there I'd been dressed up in white lingerie all day and with it tucked away in my man-bag for safe stashing back in the wife's drawers later! Oh what a day!
God I've seen some fit women on the way to work this week! None more so than today on the return train journey from the daily grind and on what would ordinarily on any other day, have been another mundane journey.
You know how it is, you get on a train, find an empty pair of seats, and sit in it. However, having found somewhere, my eyes were immediately drawn to a voluptuous, big breasted blonde in just her short summer dress, and matching high heel strappy brown shoes, sitting on the other side, diagonally across and facing me. Her gorgeous breasts were practically pouring out of the plunging and straining top which, at the valley of her cleavage, even gave the occasional glimpse of the bra that was holding them in - just - the shape and size were there to see and admire, and needed no imagination. And there she sat, casually flicking through her gossip mag at the table, but legs crossed so that I could also see her upper thigh.
I knew I had to savour this moment for as long as I or her was on the train. Drawing out my 'free' newspaper from the morning outbound leg, it was strategically placed to peer casually over the top of, focusing on her cleavage, then to her thigh and back again. The newspaper stories could have said anything, but the right hand pages took more focus as it was in her direction!
The temptation to stare for longer became greater - desperate to savour every moment, but with this came the risk that she might notice - we were that close anyway, but I somehow felt that she knew I was looking and that she enjoyed it, but was playing coy like I was. On one occasion, she gently tugged at the material of her dress covering her right breast, to ensure she stayed in, and, then, with the mag on the table, leant casually over to read something at the top of the page, causing her goods to spill out just a little, even though there was no need for such body language.
These were lustful irrational, surreal moments to savour, whilst wondering how far she was going on the train. Could there be a chance that she was getting off at the same stop as me to prolong the lustful glances for the merest of further moments?
With me hypnotised by the view, her senses must have caught the fact I was locked on to her very aura, and as she glanced in my direction, I rapidly ruffled my paper and quickly glanced away, acting as if I'd always been reading it, whilst cursing myself that I could not make eye contact, remaining worried about the negativity rather than hoping to exchange an admiring yet appreciative gentle smile. I knew that I'd been looking and, so I was convinced she knew too. Irrespective of my actual happily married life, my mind was wandering in fantasy land. Was she spoken for? Where was she going? What was she going home to? Questions which would never be answered or were indeed answerable.
As we approached my stop, she was still flicking through her gossip mag in exactly the same pose she'd been in since the journey started. Then she reached for her car keys....could she be about to exit at my stop?
I was the first to move, resigned to a maybe as well as a maybe not. I got up, she got up and followed me to the door of the train. Conscious she was behind me, I realised she'd dropped further and further behind down the path from the platform I'm a quick walker, but I'd slowed in the hope she'd overtake. It never happened.
By the time I'd reached the car park and car, I glanced back in the direction of the station but she was nowhere in sight. Eventually as I'd concluded she'd gone elsewhere and had got into my car, she swept majestically across the car park not so far away from my car and got into her car. I just had to wait and follow her car out, as if her very presence was providing my oxygen.
Reaching my own irrational conclusions about how the car she drove said who she was, the train scene was still firmly etched on my mind and my lust spilled over into ever more lustful mutterings in my car as miraculously, we ventured the same way.
Was she going the same way as me to enable some more mind games as to where she may live? No way was I stalking her - she was just going my way, but I was merely trying vainly to work out who this mystery woman was that had captured my imagination in such a way no woman had for some time.
Convinced she knew exactly what she was doing on the train, by the way she was sitting and the way she'd dressed, and that she loved it, in the confines of my own car, I said out loud to myself that, if she was going home to anyone, if she was my other half, and had come home like that, she'd have received a rather sound seeing-to....dressed like that with so much on display. She was in no way slutty - quite classy infact, but showing plenty and seemingly so comfortable with it.
Eventually, my turn in the road was not her turn, and I watched her car trundle away until our paths had parted beyond view.
And all this on not exactly what you'd call a hot summer's day?! What chance another eye-popping lustful encounter. Let's hope there's a seat closeby for more fantasies....I look forward to sweet dreams tonight as my sub-conscious uncontrollably replays the images burnt onto my retina by this anonymous goddess who had sailed into my fantasies, yet was still very much in her reality.
All this, and there I'd been dressed up in white lingerie all day and with it tucked away in my man-bag for safe stashing back in the wife's drawers later! Oh what a day!
