KUMA: RIDING THE CTA by Smokey0282

by
Smokey0282

This has got to be one of the hottest days in Chicago history! And it would just figure when I really need that hoopty car of mine to start for me it leaves me hanging. In the immortal words of Florida Evans on Good Times, "Damn, Damn, Damn!" I haven't rode the train in years and I'm really not looking forward to starting today. Especially not during rush hour with humidity so thick I need a machete. Not wanting to be late to the new site, I gather my hard hat and tool belt from the trunk and walk down the block to the train station on Belmont St.

After paying my buck and change, I trudge up the stairs that lead to the platform. I'm so pissed at that car of mine I barely notice that I'm following behind the roundest, tightest ass I've seen in a long time. I watch this woman's hips undulate right in front of my face and I can't believe I'm actually salivating. I let my eyes wander south to her legs and again I'm not disappointed. Very nice, I think to myself. And then that little voice pipes in: "Yeah, she's nice and out of your league." I had to admit I really didn't turn the heads of many of these corporate type femmes, what with my hard hat, worn Timbos and dusty jeans. They were probably afraid to get dirty and mess up their acrylics or sweat out their weaves. They didn't know what they were missing, I thought to myself and smirked.

Reaching the platform, I stake out a spot near the end so I can ride the last car. There're usually fewer people there and the last thing I need is to be crammed together like sardines with all these hot angry folks. I lean against a billboard and pull a cigarette from my front pocket, lighting up and inhaling deeply. Trying to look nonchalant, I scan the platform for the built femme I followed up here. I spot her through the crowd maybe twenty feet from me. Man, she's even fine from the front view, I thought to myself. Ah well, no sense feenin' for something you ain't gonna get, right? She turns to catch me ogling her just as I feel the rumble of the train. Feeling my face flush, I stub out my cig and join my travel companions for the morning.

As the train approaches, the crowd jockeys for position, pushing and otherwise being rude in their attempt to get a seat. I don't miss this shit at all. I vow to get my ride fixed ASAP. I squeeze into the train car, pushing my way to the emergency exit in the rear. At least here I can catch a breeze from the open door. So much for safety, right? I lean against the conductor cab and get as comfortable as I can in this throng of hot bodies. At least the ride shouldn't be too long as the site I'm working at is on State & Randolph.

I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. Suddenly, I'm jostled, hit in the leg with a briefcase. My eyes fly open and just as I'm about to go off, I realize it's the honey from the platform with the ghetto fabulous ass. "Oh, I am soooo sorry. Please excuse me," she says.

"That's ok. Don't worry about it," I reply. Whoa, was that a smile she gave me? And maybe it's just me but, I think she held the eye contact maybe a second too long. Maybe just wishful thinking on my part.

She settles into a spot right in front of me. She's so close I can get a whiff of the Perry Ellis 360ų perfume she's wearing. The train starts to move. I brace myself against the door and adjust my footing to give her more room. She looks over her shoulder and smiles sweetly at me. I smile back. Hmmm. The train makes a couple of stops and picks up more bodies to add to the already overcrowded conditions. It's really packed on here. Ms. Briefcase adjusts herself so that her ass is pressed into my crotch. She looks over her shoulder and gives me that Hey, what else can I do? It's crowded' look. Ok, get a grip, I think to myself. I just hope I don't have to ride the whole trip downtown like this.

We ride like this for a few stops when I notice that she's starting to lean back against me. I can feel her ass pressed into me, hard. My nipples harden under my T-shirt and I try to back up but I have no more room. I'm stuck against this wall with The Ass from the Heavens grinding against me. Not a bad position to be in, is it? She knew what she was doing. She had to know that she was getting to me. The train continues to speed forward and jostle its riders. I'm not sure how much of this I can take.

I try to take my mind off my predicament. Think about things I need to do, anything but this. I feel a hand lightly tracing my thigh. I look down and it's Ms. Briefcase trailing her fingertips over my leg as she grinds her ass into me. Oh, it's on now!' I think to myself. I look around to see if anyone's watching us. These folks are so into their heat induced misery they don't even notice us and there's no one standing to the right of us. I drop my hard hat and belt to the floor and spread my legs further apart. She responds by bending slightly at the waist, pressing that ass into me with circular motions. I return some grinds of my own and feel that familiar twinge inside my pussy. Whew, it really is hot on here, isn't it? I can hear the rasp of my breath and what I think is my heart beating loudly.

To my surprise she turns to face me. I can feel my face going hot red I'm so embarrassed but she just smiles that sweet smile of hers. She leans against the door, shielding me from onlookers. What the hell is she doing? Ms. Briefcase is undoing my jeans now, button by button, never taking her eyes off mine. Just as I try to speak, she slides her hand inside the fly and inside my moistened panties. A moan escapes my throat and I remember where I am. Shit, I'm usually the one doing the seducing so this is all new to me.

With slender, tapered fingers she spreads the outer lips to find my clit hidden between. She begins to strum my clit like she was playing guitar. I lay my head against the cab door and exhaled. My hips were betraying me, grinding into her hand of their own accord. She's staring into my eyes, heightening my discomfort. She knows I can't make a scene or moan. She slips a finger inside my drenched hole and my knees threaten to give way. She adds another finger and slowly thrusts inside me while continuing the maddening strumming on my hardened clit. I could feel sweat trickling between my breasts and down my back. Any second now and I'm there, I'm gonna cum if she keeps this up. She must know it too cuz she thrust hard into me and my pussy tightened around her fingers. I could feel my juices oozing down my thigh, the muscles in my legs quivering, threatening to drop me on my ass. As the spasms subside, I try to compose myself, looking around to see if we were spied. To my surprise, we hadn't.

Ms. Briefcase removed her hand from my jeans all the while looking into my eyes and smiling that knowing smile of hers. "My stop's coming up but why don't you give me a call," she says and hands me her card. My hands tremble as I take her card and put it in the pocket of my T-shirt, not even looking to see what this lover's name is. She pulls the hem of my shirt from my jeans and wipes her hand off. I'm speechless as she winds her way through the crowd and exits at Chicago Ave. My eyes follow her as she walks the platform to the stairs and she's out of sight. I fasten my jeans, tuck my shirt in and pick up my gear. I make my way to the doors so I can exit next stop. I need the air and a cigarette like, now. I get off the train and light my cig, smoking half before I trust my legs to take out of here. I guess riding the train's not so bad after all, huh?