I heard the whistle of the conductor from one of the cars way up ahead, and watched as the buildings started to move, slowly at first then faster and faster as the train picked up speed again. I had already been in this uncomfortable seat for almost two hours, watching as passenger after passenger got off, some of them with loads of bags and suitcases, others with nothing but their cellphone glued to their ears. But all of them with more or less of that relieved “finally home” – look on their faces.

Watching them with envy, I wished I was one of them, that I was “finally home”. But I had a long way to go still.

I had my jacket in the seat next to me, and pulled my phone out from one of the pockets, just to check the time – which was basically all I used my phone for nowadays – and counted the hours backwards from my e.t.a.

9 hours.

I sighed, and turned back to look out the window again. As the dusk was falling rapidly, the view turned from whatever was out there to the reflection of my own face and the inside of the train car. The lights in the ceiling, the empty seats around me… and a woman quickly approaching me from behind.

She stopped by my seat but didn’t seem to notice I was there. She just checked the seat numbers, then looked at her ticket again. And sat down right in front of me.

Our seats were facing each other, four seats in a group, meant for a family or for friends travelling together, or just for people who wanted to chat with someone.

I didn’t want to chat with anyone.

I looked around. The train car was almost empty. There was an elderly couple way at the other end, and between them and us was a woman reading out loud from a big, red book. Beside her was a little girl listening mesmerized to the story her mother was telling. And that was it.

I looked at the woman and thought about telling her that she could sit wherever she wanted. She didn’t have to sit on the seat she was given, there would probably be no new passengers boarding for the rest of the night. She didn’t have to bother me.

But I didn’t.

I figured she would be getting off soon anyway, she was your stereotypical business woman, or “strict teacher”, if that was your thing, with her hair tied in a knot on top of her head and glasses that seemed a little too big for her face. She was wearing a black jacket with a grey blouse underneath and a skirt that slid up from her knees when she sat down, and she had long, slim legs in high heels. Not dressed for a long train ride.

I, on the other hand, was dressed for a long ride. Jeans and a t-shirt, unshaven and bare feet in sneakers with laces untied.

I gave her the mandatory smile when she looked at me, and her lips formed an almost invisible smile that disappeared right away.

“Going far?” I asked. So maybe I did want to chat.

She nodded, and then hurried to get her cellphone out from her purse so she could give it her full attention.

Fine, I thought, a little more offended than I had the right to be. This was going to be a fun night.

I turned to the window, but the darkness of the night had engulfed the world and there was nothing to see. So I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. Not with any hope of falling asleep, I have never been able to sleep when travelling. But I could pretend. A book, I thought. Why didn’t I bring a book? Everyone has a book to read on a train. Even the little girl behind me.

I opened my eyes, and thought for a split second that I caught her looking at me, her eyes quickly dropping back to her phone. But I could have been wrong. She wasn’t looking now anyway, she had found a notepad in her purse and was writing something on it, checking her phone now and then, so my eyes went to her legs. They were long, sexy legs. The kind you could easily imagine wrapped around your neck. And her shoes were open-toe, showing perfectly pedicured feet and toes, with nails painted white, in contrast with her black attire. The kind of toes you could suck on for hours, before licking your way up the dorsal, up the ankle, up the leg and the thigh, up towards the holy of holies…

I tried to stop my thoughts from going there, but it was already too late. I could feel my cock begin to pulsate, waking up, trying to move around. It’s my pride and joy, bigger than most, but in situations like this, it’s a pain. Almost literally even, as it’s struggling to break free. And in situations like this, you can be sure it’s never in a good position beforehand, so the only thing to do is reach down and push it around and help it find a better place.

But that, of course, never goes unnoticed.

I tried to will my cock to go back down, but concentrating on it like that only made it worse. I tried to move around in my seat, but as I wasn’t wearing any underwear, all I did was rub it against the fabric of my pants, making it grow even more.

I had to give up, and as casually as I could I grabbed it and pushed it to the side. It did the trick and felt a lot better, but now I had a considerable bulge in the front of my pants. Shouldn’t be a problem though, I thought. She’s busy with her phone and her notepad.

I glanced at her, and she wasn’t busy with anything at all. She was staring at me, or actually, staring at my crotch.

I realized the trip was going to be even more awkward from this point on, and thought about going to the restroom for a minute. I could demean myself to jerking off in the sink there, just to solve the problem. But standing up now would be next to impossible. There was really no way out of this.

But then there was.

I watched as she tore the page she had been writing on off her notepad and stuff it in her purse, and turned the notepad sideways. She wrote something on it, then turned it around so I could see what she had written. In capital letters, the note read:

“Just let it out.”

I read the message in disbelief, and looked at her. She held the note up with one hand, but wasn’t even looking at me. She was looking at her phone again, texting away with her thumb. There was no doubt I was going to do what she asked, but wasn’t she even going to watch?

After a quick look around to make sure no one could see, I opened my pants and pulled my cock out, setting it free and feeling it rise to its full glory. Now she looked, and her eyes widened. My cock has made more than a few jaws drop before, so her slight reaction was almost a disappointment. But she did seem, at least for a minute, unable to take her eyes off it.

I sat there, just holding my cock and relishing the feeling of freedom and fresh air. She pointed her phone at me, and believe it or not, took a picture. Then she put the phone down so she could tear the previous page off her notepad and write another. When she showed it to me, I could read:

“Now jerk off.”

So I did. I grabbed it by the root with one hand, and closed my other fist around it, slowly jerking up and down. As I did that, she leaned forward, keeping her eyes on my cock, and took her shoes off. She sat back up and just watched me masturbate for a few minutes. I started to wonder if she wanted the full show, if she wanted me to blow my load right there in front of her. But she wrote on her notepad again:

“Stop!”

I obeyed, and let go. My cock quivered like a flag pole in the wind. She pushed herself to the edge of her seat and lifted both legs and put them in my lap, and grabbed my cock with her feet. Then she started jerking me off like that, with her feet.

And she was good at it.

She held her left foot behind my cock, holding it in place with the top of it while pushing the sole of her right foot at the underside of it. She kept massaging my cock like that, every now and then curling her toes around the head.

She picked up her phone and started texting again, then pointed it at me, or more precisely at my cock, and took another picture. And another. Then texted some more, never once letting her feet deviate from the rhythm.

After a while she switched position. She put her feet on each side of my cock with the soles towards each other, then curled her toes around it and moved her feet up and down. I could feel myself getting ready to come, and looked at her, kind of asking for permission. But she just slowly shook her head, so I held back.

Suddenly she stopped, and I let out an involuntary moan. She brought her feet down and sat up straight, and at the same time she made sure I saw her looking over my shoulder. I didn’t need to look to see what was going on, and grabbed my jacket and put it in my lap just as the conductor arrived.

“Ticket, miss?” he said. She gave it to him, he punched it, said, “Thank you, enjoy your journey,” and left.

I kept the jacket in my lap and looked at her, but she was busy with her phone again, acting as if the last ten minutes never happened. But my throbbing cock said otherwise.

She kept tapping on her phone for what seemed like forever, then she glanced at me and, almost annoyed, she put her phone down and grabbed her pen and notepad again.

“More?”

I nodded. She put her feet back up in my lap, under my jacket this time, and gave my cock the same treatment she had before we were interrupted. But this time she quickly picked up speed, faster and harder, as she showed me another note.

“Now!”

And I came hard, covering the inside of my jacket with my sperm, feeling her feet milk every drop out of me.

When she pulled her feet out, they were dripping with cum. She pulled several tissues out of her purse and started to wipe it off as casually as if she was just wiping excess body lotion off her feet. And that’s when I noticed the wedding ring on her finger.

She sat up, straightened her skirt out and looked at me. She wrote:

“Go clean yourself up ffs.”

I left my cock hanging, but hid it under my jacket as I got up and walked into the restroom. I cleaned myself up as best as I could, washing my cock in the sink and wiping off my pants and my jacket, although the jacket would be useless without a proper cleaning. I didn’t tuck in my shirt, and it covered most of the stains, so after a last look in the mirror I went back to my seat.

But she was gone.

I looked around. The old couple was asleep. The little girl was asleep, with her head in her mother’s lap, who seemed to be sleeping as well. I could look through the doors into the other cars, but she was nowhere to be seen. I sat down.

She had left one last note, folded in her seat. I reached for it…