Lube On the Tube?

I was in London recently to see why, since I don’t actually need it, there would be some benefit in using an investment bank to support my property portfolio. (Answer - none other than making money for the bank.) To get to their offices, I needed to take the Tube. It was busy, hot as hell, and I wondered if I could get myself off down there, either by touching myself, or by using Miss Brain. 

I’ve had purely mental orgasms before, and although rare they are something else. It appears to work like Miss Brain gets me to a fever pitch of arousal, and then the slightest movement pushes me over the edge….although once, I came in my panties without moving. That was something else! 

One thing about the Tube, there’s always eye candy of one kind or another. Boys, girls, men women, old men, older women….where there’s a will, there’s a way, and i’m not discriminatory about age either…there’s many a sweet tune to be played on an old violin! 

So I dressed for business, and that involved a dress, under which were a pair of panties designed to catch anything should I cum on the Tube….which I fully intended to. 

There’s one line down there called the Circle line, and, as its name implies, it goes round in circles. You can stay on there for a couple of rotations, although they’re getting wise to homeless people who buy a ticket and then try to sleep down there in the warm for 8 hours. 

My carriage mates spread the age range from about 16 -60, and of course male and female, although there was one person I wasn’t sure about. I don’t they they were either, but then we live in new times don’t we? 

As usual, I sat back, the Metro newspaper (a free newspaper) masking the fact I was allowing Miss Brain to check out my travelling companions and select one for her deeper inspection.

We stopped at a station and a girl got on and sat directly opposite me. I simply couldn’t make her out. She looked oh I don’t know, 18 maybe, and wore a short black skirt and a white shirt and tie. At first I thought “schoolgirl” but then she could equally be working someplace that has a ‘shirt and tie’ uniform too. Miss Brain hooked up on her though, informing me that my mystery girl could be anything I wanted her to be. Miss Brain also sat back in her chair with a smirk. I know that look. She’d noticed something I hadn’t. Carefully, I scanned the girl from head to foot. Carefully applied, but minimal makeup….no lipstick….hmmm could be School…..oh, wait, dangly earrings. That’s a no-no these days. Shirt half a size too big though, seems very loose round her neck….and is that an old love hit (hickie) I can see there? Shirt, obviously a bra underneath, but not a big one…not a big one at all. In fact, not much more than me! Welcome to the itty-bitty tittie club sweetie. 

And then I saw what Miss Brain had seen. Under the black skirt which, as she sat there was high up on her thighs, a visible white ‘V’ of panty. This switched me into hyperdrive….shaved? Trimmed? Pierced? When did she last masturbate? When did she last fuck? Has she ever fucked? Has she done it with another girl? Would she like to do it with another girl? (Cue Donkey impression from Shrek. “Oh! me! Pick me! Pick me!") 

Momentarily our eyes locked and we exchanged brief smiles. I shifted slightly so it looked like I was going back to my newspaper and the train lurched. Her knees spread, and joy of joys, I got the full crotch for a second or two while she recovered her balance. An obvious change of colour there….wetness….obvious wetness. Which, I’m happy to say, I felt coming out of me too. I stared while trying not to look like I was staring while Miss Brain rubbed her hands together and went to work. 

“She woke up this morning, warm, cozy, sleepy. She had that warm post-sleep smell to her….perhaps a little night sweat, and of course, the wetness between her legs from overnight. She lay there, not wanting to leave her cozy bed, and she stretched. Her body felt nice, so she ran her hands over her sleep t-shirt, and onto her tummy where they rested. She thought for a while….’Should I? Do I have time?’ She’d glanced at the alarm clock and decided that yes, she did. Her hand disappeared into the waistband and she spread her legs in anticipation. It didn’t take long. She had rubbed her clit to orgasm. Then she had got up, washed, especially between her legs, dressed and grabbed a hurried breakfast before leaving the house. 

"But she had forgotten one thing. She’d forgotten that sometimes, she gets super wet after she cums, not during or before. And now she was creaming her panties. She will notice, around coffee time, that she feels slick down there. She’ll go to the restroom, and survey the damage and may slip a panty liner it, or perhaps endure the uncomfortable wedge of toilet paper, or maybe, she will simply slip them off and ‘air dry’. Perhaps she’ll enjoy the naughtiness of ‘going commando’.”

By now I was a hot mess too. I focused down on her as she had rubbed herself off that morning. What might she have been thinking of? The gentle touch of another girl? Maybe that one time a brief kiss from a friend lingered a moment longer than it should have. They had broken away, looking at one another in confusion, before leaning in again, and kissing for longer. Perhaps she was thinking of that breathless moment when she ached to touch her friends boob, but Lao the surprise when her friend made the first move and she felt a warm hand close around her own breast. And as they stood there kissing and feeling one another’s boobs, it had been her who had let her hand drop away, down, down to her friend’s crotch and the thrill she felt when her friend, rather than move away, had pressed against the back of her hand. 

Reaching up her friend’s skirt had felt so natural, yet also so naughty. Not as naughty as when her friend bypassed the rubbing through panty stage and slipped her hand under the waistband and had travelled through the light growth of pubic hair and found her wetness. She had, hesitantly at first, reciprocated inching slowly down her friend’s underwear until…until what? Had she been surprised that there was no pubic hair? Or had she been delighted, and resolved to do the same herself? Either way, she had felt her friends wetness and soon the two girls, still hiding somewhat behind the mask of kissing were masturbating one another. Had her friend’s finger found her hole first, or had it been the other was round? Who had cum first? I imagined them both feeling that any moment they would dum, but fighting it off, trying so hard not to give in, just in case the other girl was shocked, but that way lies edging…..eventually one of them gave in and came on the other girl’s fingers which, in turn, triggered the second girl to cum. 

They had breathed their orgasms into each others mouths as they stood there, their free arms still around one another’s waists. And as that thought hit me, the train lurched again and this time much stronger. Her right foot shot sideways and I got a full frontal view of her crotch. For a moment, a nanosecond, Miss Brain supplied me with a ‘pseudo smell’, I couldn’t really smell her, of course, but The Force. Is strong with Miss Brain. She gave me the light, sweet fragrance that I had no doubt lay between those creamy thighs, and I came luxuriously and heavily into my panties.

The next stop being mine, I rose and walked, somewhat unsteadily, if the truth is known, to the door. And without a backward glance left my mystery girl behind forever. The more I walked, the more I leaked. I felt myself slipping and sliding against my panties, and loved it!

On the train to the airport and my short flight home, I went to the restroom to survey my own damage. These panties had done a sterling job in averting a catastrophe, but they were close to capacity. I used them to clean up and then popped them in my bag. Going commando was just what I needed now, and when my aircraft falls out of they sky, as every time I fly I am convinced that it will, they will find me pantyless on the ground….

…..but with a big smile!