I'm an educated woman... an MBA student... well travelled, good upbringing. So what is it that makes me wink when I see a dust-covered construction worker checking out my legs as he crosses the street? The backlash of all of this civility is a craving for the return to animal instincts. Sometimes it's just a wink and a fantasy. Other times, I just can't seem to help myself...
I was waiting on the train at Pentagon metro when I first spied him. He was plain but cute enough. He was probably from El Salvador like most of the Latinos in my neighborhood. He looked me up and down from my high-heeled sandals, up my tight jean skirt, around my tailored jacket, and stopped square on my face where he let go a big smile. I'm of Greek descent β long brown hair, big brown eyes - and get mistaken for Latina a lot. I played it up just for fun. Threw a coquettish little smile his way and looked the other way. Turned around and pretended to read the metro map so he could get a long look at my ass. Then pretended to be warm and unbuttoned my jacket to give him a glimpse of my nipples poking through a pink chemise. My a-cup doesn't need a bra. The train came and I boarded with moist panties... not looking back.
When I got to school, I headed for the ladies room to release my bulging clit, stretched out on top of the toilet seat with my pants around my knees, shirt lifted up, I was thinking about you β Juan, Jose, whoever you are β trying not to moan too loudly as other girls came in to powder their noses. I finger-fucked myself twice and still came out horny... hoping I didn't smell too much like cunt.
On the way home, I was getting excited again. God damn this tight thong, tickling my ass. I couldn't wait to get home and maybe find some action on the internet. I was pondering this when I got on the bus, the last leg of my commute. And then I spotted him. I was sitting in the front, jacket off, tits hard, one spaghetti strap falling off the shoulder. I'm sure I must have blushed when he got on. He grinned and the breath I took made my chest heave. I tried to act nonchalant. He sat in the seat directly behind me. The whole ride through town, I could feel his breath on my neck and every once in a while, I swear I could feel him tugging gently but firmly on my ponytail hanging just in front of his face. I looked anywhere but at him... but the bus seemed to be full of his friends, grinning and staring, enjoying the show, looking at me like they wanted a piece, too.