Ernest Goes to Work Pt. 01

As always, I was left with only fragments of my dreams: rounded curves, low feminine moans, the sensation of sliding into warmth. And, of course, a massive erection I knew I'd have no time to do anything about. It's not that my job was so important that I couldn't afford to be late, at least not on a global level. Managing telemarketers wasn't saving lives, making millions, or solving society's ills, after all, but it was a paycheck, and somehow, I'd discovered that I was rather good at it. Good enough that I might be able to edge my way past Julie into the soon-to-be-vacant Account Manager job. From there, the financial stability from which I could start to pursue my real passion: writing.

And so, I limited myself to a stroke or two in the shower before tucking myself into my Aspiring Manager best (guaranteed to accentuate my height, my broad shoulders, and my blue eyes, according to a no-nonsense sales clerk at the too-expensive Williamsburg boutique) and making my way through the turnstile to the subway platform.

It was crowded, even more than normal, with my fellow earnest and tryful worker bees, all jostling for entry into the just-arrived Manhattan-bound A train. I slid on at the last second, pushing up against a tall woman in a grey skirt, who had to reach out for the rail to steady herself against my imposition. I bent my head down, and in a voice that came out lower and huskier than intended, said, "Sorry" to her glossy hair and long neck.

The train jostled to life, and her head turned enough that I could see one brown eye and one half of her red lips. The eye traveled up to my face, and those lips curled into a half smile that I took to mean I was forgiven. I leaned back against the train door, trying to create a little space between us. My gentlemanly impulse, however, was for naught, as her ass, seemingly of its own volition, eased back against me.

Some heat-seeking instinct caused her cheeks to settle precisely around my cock through my trousers, and even as it started to harden, I froze. Did she know what she was doing?

Her head turned slightly again, and her lip curled even as her back arched, pushing into me more firmly. Oh, she knew.

Her ass began making tiny movements against me, and I let myself enjoy the moment, enjoy my cock getting harder against her, enjoy feeling wanted, enjoy the illicit thrill of doing this in public. I darted my eyes left and right, but the train was so crowded, it was impossible to know if anyone had noticed us. I began to move my hips in concert with hers, so that the friction lasted longer. Through the hair curling up against her back, I saw that her neck was reddening, and I leaned forward so that her the back of her head rested just barely against my chest. She rolled her head slightly, her hair rustling against my chest, and I hitched my hips away from her so that just the tip of my cock rested against her ass. She stilled for a moment, then I started moving my hips as gently as I could, rubbing the head of my cock between her ass cheeks. Her neck grew redder, and I let out a long, slow breath, and was rewarded with a row of goosebumps.

The train began to slow as it reached the next station, and she ground firmly into me again. When the train jolted into a stop, she turned her head again, and I could see her cheeks were as flushed as her neck.

"Your stop?" I murmured as the train doors opened.

She shook her head, and together, we stepped off the train to let others off, our bodies leaning into each other as if afraid to separate. I tried to get a better look at her, but only got a glimpse of wide hips and round nipples hard against her silken blouse, visible even through her bra.

"Next one's mine," I said as we reentered the train as one, letting the newcomers push us farther into the train, and deeper against each other.

Our brief separation made me aware of the precum soaking the front of my boxers, and I imagined her pussy, wet for me. I slid up against her, and she nestled back into me. She placed one hand, long, with manicured nails, delicately on the rail stretching from the floor to the ceiling of the train car, and I moved my own, large and warm, directly over hers. I bent down to smell her hair--pine and mint--and flexed my body as I pressed it against her back, wanting her to feel not just how hard my cock was, but how lean my torso was, how tall I stretched above her. I wanted to push aside her hair and lick the back of her neck, to slide my hand up her thighs and feel how wet we had made her panties, to take her back to my apartment and fuck her until neither of us could breath for passion.

I rocked against her, my thumb stroking the back of her hand, as our pinkies twined around each other. My breath was heavy and I thought hers was too, but as the train began to slow for the next stop, I forced myself to slow down too. I began to separate, hips first, and she swayed her ass against me once, twice, before straightening up. I gave her hand one last stroke, then let my hand fall beside me as the train lurched to a stop. In a fog of stifled desire, I let others step around me towards the exit. She turned her head again, and licked her lips before curving them upwards. "Change your mind?" she asked over her shoulder, and the heat in her voice made my cock pulse. I started to answer, then remembered: work. A jolt of adrenaline set me into motion and I could think of only one thing to say as I maneuvered past passengers to the closing doors: "Thank you."