The packed commuter train veered from side to side as it violently changed tracks, throwing the passengers with it. The overstuffed briefcase of the suit next to you, bashing painfully into your thigh.  You glance with a territorial scowl before accepting his apologetic look as he pulls it back onto his lap nervously.  Seeking solitude, you cross your legs and squeeze yourself tighter into your window seat.  

You press your phone tighter against your ear, catching your reflection in the train window as the monotonous grey of the city and suburbia gives way to flashes of green.  You always loved leaving the city behind.  Not that the commute was something you enjoyed.  Instead a necessity just like the others crowded into the carriage.

But at least on this journey, you were accompanied by the sound of his reassuringly smoothing voice.  That warm accent that had an infectious way of taking your mind far from your surroundings.

"Yes, I got you message," you answer quietly to the gravely voice as thoughts flood back to earlier.  

That flash of your phone that started so innocently but quickly descended to naughty, explicit words for only the most of intimate of times.  Your smile slowly joined by a growing blush of your cheeks.  It was naughty but how you adored each message.  That was until the mad scramble that had ensued only moments later as you desperately attempted to hide the display under a scattering of paperwork, when your boss ventured in your direction.

"I was at work, that's why!" You answer with a giggle. Your restraint in not replying to his last message for fear of being caught, yet his words of wants and desires, so sensually and erotically penned, had planted suggestive seeds in your mind.  And as the afternoon had passed those had taken hold, your work concentration broken with consummate ease as you dared to imagine more than just words. 

Your fingers toy with a loose strand of hair as you watch yourself in the window's reflection, flicking the back of your foot from your work heels, adoring his devilishly gorgeous voice.  

"Really," you respond with a raise of your eyebrows, pulling the receiver a little closer to your ear as if to feel his presence even closer.  That, or to hide his ever more explicit language.  You were pretty sure your fellow commuters would cast a different eye over you with the intimate words being whispered in your ear.  

You knew he loved to tease.  And what made it worse was he was so deliciously good at it.  Countless times he had you in such a state.  Knowing just the what to say and how to say to arouse your desires.  And if the situation was one where restraint was required, then he was even more wickedly tormenting.  Tonight, seemingly was no exception. You could hear his hunger .  You knew what he wanted, what he craved.

"Mmmmm," you answer, not capable of saying much else given the descriptive words in your ear.  You feel your body respond, the warmth of the packed commuter train increasingly amplified.  His words touching you, teasing and tantalising, sensually claiming your mind and body.

He was unrelenting.  Your breasts swell and nipples pebble against your intricate lace bra, that you know is more visible as it presses up against your creamy blouse.  You glance opposite seat, thankful for the suit to be consumed by his paper. The flush of your cheeks not only the only part of you feeling the temperature rising.  

"Stop it," you whisper holding the phone tightly.  A desperate plea that secretly was the complete opposite of what you wanted.  And to him only an incentive to ratchet the tease that bit more.  

You shift in your seat, wanting to squirm as his words dare to travel further down your body.  Touching and igniting as if it were his lips, setting you on fire.

God!  Your heart thunders and you desperately try to control your breathing, finding yourself every more consumed by his  explicit words.  All you can do is listen feeling the wetness beneath your pencil skirt seep into the lace of your panties.  

All around fellow commuters consumed by papers or phones, heads down lost to their own escapes.  You yearn to whimper and moan, to release the delicious passion that consumes and engulfs.  You can hear his enjoyment, his breath more rampant as his hunger becomes ever more explicit.  The thought of him aroused only turning you on further. Your body alive to his every word, feeling them sensually slip under your skirt and dance up your thighs as if it were his strong hands.

You fear being caught.  Your eyes dart around the carriage, afraid of what others may think.  Thankfully no one catches your gaze and you avert your eyes back to your reflection in the carriage window.  Seeing the flush of your cheeks as you bit down on your bottom lip.  His words now in you. Sensually and perfectly sinking inside you.  

"Yes," you barely audible murmur to his question interlaced between his desires.  Fighting the urge to moan, his breathless words have you clenching and pulsing in wicked sin.  You can barely breath, lost to his gravely voice.  All you can do is listen as he takes you adoring the craving he has for you. Biting on your lip if only to stifle your wanton moans you oblige his instruction.  Squeezing your thighs together that bit tighter.  The sensation combined with the rocking of the carriage so magical against your throbbing clit, just as he had described.  

You ache deliciously.  Lace panties soaked as you enjoy the pleasurable waves and the sheer torment of not being able to do anything about it.  This journey, one that could not end soon enough, knowing when you step through the door he'll be there, wanting and craving you.  The thought of the discarded trail of clothes that will follow fuelling your desires.