Begin your morning routine. After rolling out of your much too cozy bed and into a frigid bedroom, you make your way to the shower. To occupy your time showering, or maybe to simply jump-start your still sleep addled mind, you put something on to listen to while showering. Does a certain podcast make waking up worth it? Is there a new album out you're excited to sing along to? Whatever it is, it allows you to leave the shower and start the tiresome chore of preparing your appearance for the day. Clothes need to be selected, makeup applied and critiqued, and your hair managed perhaps even extensively.

Next, you must prepare a quick breakfast. There's yogurt in the fridge, cereal in the cupboard, coffee on the countertop, and maybe a slightly aged banana on the table. How does anyone manage to keep those things for more than a few days without them turning brown!?

Then you're free, out into the fresh air. Everything is quite normal, quite boring. Blustery wind spits insults on your hard work to keep your hair presentable, and the smells of the city surround you in both positive and negative ways. The balance, which was quite even on the sidewalk, shifts toward the negative once you descend to the subway. It's damp, it's wet, and it smells like damp and wet had a baby named dry piss. Smells are everywhere, they're overwhelming, and really you don't think much of them.

Finally, when your train arrives, you enter it. Not a lot of people this time around, so maybe today will be a pleasant one after all. You can even get a seat! But sadly, one stop later that changes, as the doors open to the automated voice over the PA, as well as the clatter of footsteps from other corporate drones who exited equally cozy beds into equally as chilly bedrooms. They listened, or perhaps still listen, to equally as banal podcasts, and probably ate an equally as half-cocked breakfast. They probably packed equally as bland lunches... did you remember to pack yours?

Choices and decisions stop here. This isn't a story about your boring morning routine anymore. Both in the manner of reading, and in character, you're not in control from this point of the story onward.

The wind managed it at first, when you left home. Then it was the smells of the subway, which masked it. Following that, it was luck. There were few people on the subway, those people didn't sit or stand near you, but not it was busy. Someone had to stand in front of you, someone whose smell was stronger than all the others of that morning. It was a man's smell, the man's smell. The smell of a man who was everything a man ought to be. It smelled manly, distinctly so; it smelled like sex. in fact, it smelled so much like sex, that you didn't really have a choice in what you did next.

Without hesitation, without the ability to stop yourself, you unzipped this man's pants. Somewhere in your head maybe you were able to scream about this, to observe it as if reading a story on a screen which was written by someone else. None of that means you can stop it; you're not in control. The smells are.

In the same deft motion whereupon you unzip the man's pants, you fish free his cock; it's not hard, but it sure does smell like it ought to be. Thankfully you're capable of fixing unhard penis. You simply grab it about the girthy, warm, almost velvety base and angle it upward. You open wide, and you insert it into your mouth. Your lips clamp around the ridge of the fat tip, your cheeks pump in and out, pulsing as you apply suction. The smell is so strong now, it's right under your nose quite literally and... are you drooling? No wonder subways are so disgusting, the drool is falling from your chin, pooling at the corners of your mouth. But, at least that cock is finally hard. Life feels a little more right because of that.

You can suck easier now that it's hard too. You can use your head more, rather than just your mouth. Push down on it, then pull back. There's so much spit you don't have to do much more than that. Well... you don't have to, but you will; you simply can't stop yourself. You're a cocksucker. You're a dick-drooling, knob-gobbling, subway-sitting mouth-slut. You bob, you suck, you moan around it. Your nostrils flare, you inhale the scent and snake that pulsing penis down your eager throat. Your throat bulges, your neck bobs and you gulp.

Partly, you gulp because your mouth is filling up rather quickly. Warm juices flood your tastebuds and yes, you guessed it, you can smell them. Well, you can smell what runs down in excess off your chin. The rest you can taste, which is really just smell by another name anyway isn't it? So you drink, you gulp, you swallow. It's better than coffee, it's better than a bland breakfast. Your body shudders, the hair on your neck stands on end and... what's this?! Warm wetness throbs between your legs. Did you cum? When did that happen and... oh dear you can feel the afterglow can't you? The constricting muscles inside you, the pulsing heat and tingling sensations of pleasure. It goes up your abdomen, along the inside of your legs. Your muscles feel tired, and your stomach feels full.

The cock, which doesn't seem to smell quite so pungent anymore, falls from your mouth. You blink, the owner of the cock blinks. You both inhale fresh, or at least mostly fresh, air. He stuffs his dick away and mutters an apology. For some reason you apologize the same and wipe your mouth on your hand. Is that your stop? Would you look at the time? Excuse you, the door is right there. What happened just now?

Best be careful about the air that you breathe from now on.

This prompt is a mixed free-use/mind-control prompt. Who doesn't love a bit of play about pheromones?! How do they even work? You and completely random strangers throughout the day may just so happen to be quite biologically compatible. When one or the other of you gets a good whiff of that, well boy howdy. Neither of you can control it, sex just happens, whatever kind is most convenient. A blowjob while sitting on the subway, a backside hump while waiting in line, or a face-to-face, against the wall pounding when stuck in a confined elevator.

The aftermath will always be a bit awkward. Neither of you are quite sure what happened or why. People nearby never quite seem to notice. Best figure out what's going on and fast. After all, maybe you can start using this to your advantage somehow, or someone might use it to theirs.

I have lots of kinks, and they will probably change depending how turned on I get and the places we take this. So I'm going to go for limits instead; No blood, toilet-play, animals, pain and suffering. No pegging, no full non-con (dub-con is fine, and quite the point of this really), and I think that's about it.