Even with my panties in my handbag, my skirt riding up past my ass, and my legs visibly spread beneath the blanket, he was still sitting opposite me pretending to read his book, his knuckles gripping the pages and his neck visibly straining to not turn and look at what he wanted to see.

Adorable, really.

I leaned back against the window, my posture relaxed but calculated, my legs parting just a fraction more. The train jolted slightly, and I let out a soft gasp, shifting in my seat as my naked pussy rubbed against the back of my skirt. The movement caused the blanket to slip ever so slightly, exposing a sliver of my bare thigh. I didn’t adjust it. Instead, I moved my hand beneath the blanket, resting it on my other leg.

The guy in front of me swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. His book was still open, but he hadn’t turned the page in ages. Beneath the blanket, my hand moved slowly, deliberately, sliding along the smooth skin of my inner thigh. My fingertips brushed against the wet line of my pussy, and I bit my lip to stifle a soft moan. The train’s vibrations only heightened the sensations, the hum of the engine a subtle backdrop to the rhythm I was creating.

My phone was still in my hand and I continued to scroll, relaxing into it, licking my lips as reddit’s finest explicit gifs and images continued to fill my head with illicit and exhibitionist ideas. On the screen a woman in a sheer dress was licking her lips in slow motion, a thick, veiny cock inches from her mouth. I willed her to suck it, to do what I wished I could do at that moment, but the gif just looped, so I scrolled to the next one; a super close up video of a woman with a perfect puffy pussy–kind of like mine–filling the shot. It was visibly wet, and she sunk her fingers into it and moaned.

I let my eyes flutter closed for a moment, thinking about how that would feel, how much I wanted to cum, my breathing shallow and uneven. When I opened them again, I caught him staring. He quickly averted his gaze, his cheeks flushing a deep red.

Fuck. I couldn’t decide what was making me wetter; the images on my phone or how naughty I was being. I shifted again, pulling my top down a little, ostensibly to get comfortable, but realistically because I wanted him to see my tits. I mean…I wanted him to lick and suck and fuck them, every fibre of my being wished he would lean forward, rip my clothes off and fuck me right there, leaving me covered in his cum…

…but for now, this was fine.

The train moved again and the blanket slipped further. I knew he could see the curve of my thighs, the bare skin that disappeared beneath the fabric. I looked directly at him, catching his gaze again before he could look away.

“Are you enjoying your book?” I asked.

“Oh,” he said, seeming to remember he was holding one for the first time in a little while, his face growing even redder. “Yeah. It’s a good one so far…” He furrowed his brow, opening his mouth as if he was going to speak but then thinking better of it.

He looked back into his book, and his shyness only made me wetter.

I wanted to fuck myself in front of him so bad.

“Do you mind if I put my feet up on the seat?” I asked, nodding toward the space next to him. “Don’t worry,” I said sweetly. “I’m not going to get the seat dirty–I’m not wearing any shoes.”

His words caught in his throat then he nodded. “Uh, sure. Knock yourself out.”

Smiling at his response, I slowly lifted my feet and rested them on the empty seat beside him. My toes flexed slightly, bare and soft against the fabric of the chair, the coolness of the material contrasting with the warmth radiating from my skin. I stretched out languidly, my legs just long enough that my toes brushed the edge of his thigh. The motion wasn’t overt—just enough to make the contact feel incidental, accidental, though it was anything but.

“Thanks,” I said softly, my voice carrying a teasing edge. I wiggled my toes slightly, the movement drawing his gaze down for a split second before he hurriedly looked back at his book. But I saw the way his hands tightened on the cover, the way his shoulders stiffened under the weight of my casual closeness. My heart raced with the thrill of it.

But I needed to calm down. I was dripping so much that I could feel it running down my thighs and onto my butt. I lifted my phone again and started to look at the images again, but it was only a few seconds before my breath stopped as a realisation dawned on me, sharp and sudden. I’d been wearing them the entire time—my glasses, with their perfectly reflective lenses. My phone was angled just so, directly in his line of sight. The images I’d been scrolling through, every explicit gif and provocative photo, had probably been mirrored right back at him.

Heat rushed to my face, a mix of mortification and excitement. He’d seen everything. My heart pounded, my skin prickling with awareness. The thought that he knew exactly what I’d been looking at, that he’d seen my dirty little secret laid bare, only made the ache between my legs intensify. My embarrassment twisted into something else entirely—an irresistible excitement, an insatiable need between my legs.

There was only one question left in my mind: what next?