Sitting on the train, reading some steamy romance novel, minding my own business. I would occasionally look out the window as the Hudson River passed by, before immersing myself in the next sex scene splayed out on the pages in front of me. I was letting my imagination get the better of me, as my panties moistened with each turning page. I crossed my legs, squeezing my lips together. Oooh! That felt good! “Ardsley On Hudson! Next station stop is Ardsley!” the conductor bellowed from the far end of the car. I looked out the window as the train slowed to a stop. Several people were standing on the platform, looking bored, but this is the life of a commuter. Long periods of travel into the city and back again, to make a living but still have a lawn to mow and live the American dream. A house in the ‘burbs’, 2.4 kids, a mini-van, and a workaholic husband. Just what every girl wants. Right? I returned to my book and was just getting back into it when a voice above me said, “Is this seat taken?” I looked up to see a tall, gorgeous hunk standing in the aisle. His piercing blue eyes echoing his question. “Oh, no! Its not taken.” I replied, still staring Erzurum Escort into those azure treasures that seemed to be boring into my head. Doffing his sports coat, he swung into the seat, falling against me as the train lurched. His broad shoulders brushing against mine as the train picked up momentum, sending a jolt through me that made me ever so slightly wet. “Sorry!” he said, flashing damn near perfect teeth at me. “No problem!” I replied getting back to my trashy romance novel. A few moments later, he asked, “What are you reading?” Ordinarily, I might get annoyed at some stranger invading my personal space and making inane conversation just to fill the air with noise, but there was something about this guy that disarmed me. Was it his wavy, dark, full head of hair? His perfect abs that were accentuated by an obviously tailored shirt. ‘I must be reading too many of this silly books’ I thought to myself. Flipping the book closed, I answered. “Just a girly book. Pablum for the mind!” He looked at the illustration on the cover. It showed a well endowed, nearly naked female draped over a bare-chested cross between Arnold Erzurum Escort Bayan Schwarzenegger and Matt Damon. “And that’s you on the cover, right?” he chuckled. I smiled back, thinking ‘How the hell did he know that?’, but I replied, “She doesn’t look a bit like me!” “You’re better looking than she is, anyway.” he said, his perfect teeth gleaming. “So what’s it about?” “The usual!” I said, “Self assured female falls under the spell of the perfect male specimen. Gets rescued by him, and they live happily ever after.” “You forgot the part about the incredible sex, where she orgasms at his mere touch.” he adds. “Have you read this book too?” a answer back, a little laugh in my voice. “This particular book? No! But I’ve read enough to know the formula.” He patted my knee as he spoke. I felt the warmth of his hand on my bare knee. It sent another jolt through my body ending in my pussy. I thought briefly of telling him to get his hands off, but it felt so good. I don’t know why, but I uncrossed my legs. His hand never moved from my knee. I re-opened my book, re-reading a steamy passage for the umpteenth time, Escort Erzurum which wasn’t helping my state of arousal any. Then I swear I felt his hand inch up my thigh. I looked down where it rested, then shifted my gaze to his face. He was facing forward, but his eyes shifted toward me, then his hand, and back to me. He smiled ever so slightly. Now was the time to object if I was going to, but I didn’t. Something about him and his bold hand had me mesmerized. Here I was, in a public place, a strangers hand creeping up my leg, and all I could do was try to keep from hyperventilating. Back to my book again. The gentle swaying of the railroad car making it impossible to tell for certain if his hand was sliding ever so slightly upward. I looked down at his hand again, noticing that his little finger had disappeared beneath the hem of my skirt. I glanced up at his face. He was looking directly at me now. So much for subtlety, I thought. But I was enjoying this! A stranger on a train, his hand on my thigh! Deliciously naughty! Almost edgy! What would mother think, I pondered. She’d be appalled! Nice girls don’t do this sort of thing. At least not in public. I felt his hand move under my skirt. I looked him in the eye, smiled, and opened my legs a little wider, letting him know that I wanted this as much as he did. The train rolled northward, the car swaying, the click-click of the wheels on the tracks almost hypnotic in its monotony.