Stories From The 6 Train 2(210)

Her hand tightens around my shaft, and she looks back up at me and bites her lip. “What if it’s a bad idea?”

I shake my head. “From where I’m standing, I think it’s the best fucking idea I’ve ever had.”

She laughs, the shakes her head seriously. “I can’t do this here. I could lose my job.”

I grind my teeth. “Then put your clothes on. I’m taking you home.”

I watch as she hurries and dresses, and she keeps looking back at me like she wants to jump me right there. Then we’re out the door and headed toward the 6 Train. It can’t get us home fast enough.





Whitney





“Dax, what if this is a bad idea?”

I look at him seated next to me on the train, his eyes blazing with barely contained desire. I can’t believe he’s looking at me like this. Like he has to have me right the fuck now or he’s going to go out of his mind.

And I really can’t believe what went down in the dressing room backstage. Part of me feels like I must be dreaming. Because there’s no way the man I’ve fantasized about for months and months is just as desperate to fuck me as I am to let him do it.

He watches me for a minute, then says, “Do you want me?”

I nod before I can think better of it. “So much.”

His lips tip up. “Then I don’t think it can be a bad idea. Because, Whitney? I’ve been fantasizing about seeing you do what you did on that stage for longer than you would believe.

I gasp. Is he for real? But he keeps going, and his words have me squirming and pressing my thighs together, wishing there weren’t other people on this train with us.

“Seeing you up there dancing made me so hard, baby. All I wanted to do was pull my cock out and come all over the place.”

That turns me on so much. “I want to watch you do that.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

I nod, suddenly feeling that same sense of power knowing that I can drive him crazy. “Every night I touch myself, imagining you doing the same.”

Dax groans. “Fuck, Whitney, that’s so hot. When we get home, you’re going to strip for me again. And this time you’re going to watch what it does to me. And when you’re so wet and needy, wanting to come so badly you can’t stand it, you’re going to sit on my cock and ride me like I’ve wanted you to since you first moved in.”

Oh my god. Him talking like that is so hot. And when we get home, barely making it through the door because we can’t keep our hands to ourselves, he rips his shirt off, making me moan. Even though I’ve seen him without his shirt a million times, this time I can actually touch him. I run my fingernails down his chiseled chest, loving the way a shiver runs through him.

Dax presses another searing kiss to my mouth before swatting me on the ass. “Okay, Whit. Strip for me.”

He leads me into the living room and leaves me standing in the center while he settles on the couch and undoes his pants, taking his cock—so long and thick and perfect—in his fist and giving it a few slow pulls. He nods at me. “Strip.”

Holy shit this is the hottest thing I’ve ever done. Earlier I just fantasized about stripping for him, making him come, but now I’m actually doing it, and the reality is so much better.

As I begin to move, peeling my clothes off as slowly as I can—not easy considering I want to rip them off so I can get it over with and climb up on his lap—I watch him stroke himself. His eyes burn with need as he drops his head back, watching me through slitted eyes as he jerks faster and harder.

“Touch yourself,” he demands.

My hand immediately goes to my pussy, my fingers circling around my clit before they dip into my drenched center.

“Fuck, yes,” he grits out, eyes nearly black with lust.

I pinch my nipple, rolling it around with the fingers of my other hand.

“Now come for me.”

Dax telling me to come is all I need. I obey instantly, pleasure ripping through me as our eyes stay locked. I convulse and jerk, clamping down on my own fingers that feel so good, but still aren’t enough.

“Need your cock,” I whimper through my stuttered breath.

Looking at it makes me nearly come again. So big, so engorged, throbbing with his own impending orgasm. Slowly, tauntingly, he continues to stroke himself, making me want it more every second.

After a minute, he pulls a condom from his pocket and rolls it on. I lick my lips in anticipation.

He reaches out for me, and I’m straddling him in seconds, his big cock teasing at my entrance.

This will change everything. What we’ve already done together has already pushed us beyond a line that means we can never go back to being just roommates, at least not like we were before. But this ups the stakes.