Smut in the City (Absolute Erotica)

by Victoria Blisse

  But on the night when this whole thing kicked off there seemed to be something of a drought. No nice guys in the bar, only a couple of leering mathematicians that we’d been avoiding eye contact with for weeks. Sam, a big, brassy blond from London’s east end, decided to call it a night, but I was feeling bored so I suggested to my friend Tina that we take a bottle of wine up to my room and carry on drinking.

  Tina was petite and dark, also American, but she was from NYC rather than some shithole in Idaho. We’d bonded early on in the semester and as she’d been in London a couple of months longer than me, she quickly became my mentor in learning about all things English. She taught me the slang and the swear words, as well as showing me how to travel on the underground system, or the Tube as locals call it, where to get the best chips and helped me actually understand the differences between crisps and chips and fries.

  Slumped side by side on my narrow bed, we passed a bottle cheap red between us and naturally, as we weren’t getting any sex, the conversation turned to it instead.

  “I love risky sex,” said Tina, raising the bottle to her lips.

  “How d’you mean risky?” I asked. “Without a condom?”

  She laughed.

  “No way. I mean risky like you could get busted at any moment. Doing it where you shouldn’t be doing it, like in your parents’ bedroom or outside where someone might see you. It just adds that extra little something to the experience, don’t you think?”

  I had to agree. The best sex I’d ever had so far was on prom night when my best friend’s boyfriend had banged me in the back of her car. Don’t get me wrong. I totally felt guilty afterwards but it felt so right at the time. So hot. He was super good looking and I could tell from the bulge in his pants he was huge. We’d been eyeing each other up for weeks and I think we both sort of knew that that evening it was a now or never kind of a deal. We got on that back seat together and all hell broke loose: his cock in my mouth, my finger up his arse, his tongue on my clit, his teeth on my nipples and finally as he rammed it hard into me I had the most explosive orgasm ever. Then I tumbled out of the car on the far side as my best friend came out into the parking lot to look for him.

  Tina’s eyes glittered brightly when I told her about it.

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” she said.

  She handed me the bottle and got up from the bed. She stood in front of me, quickly pushed my knees together, and in one fluid movement was suddenly sitting astride my lap. I’ll admit I was a little surprised but I quickly put the bottle to my lips to hide it and took a long swig of wine. After that, she took the bottle from me and put it on the floor.

  “I think you’re ready,” she said, staring at me long and hard with those deep brown eyes.

  “Ready for what?” I asked. My voice cracked.

  She placed both her hands on my shoulders.

  “Ready for the Circle Line challenge.”

  She laughed at my confusion.

  “Okay,” she said. “This is what happens. You get onto a Circle Line train - it doesn’t matter which station, because you know it’s going to come all the way round in a circle. It takes about an hour to go round and your challenge is to find and fuck a man of your choice before you get back to the original station.”

  I could hardly believe what she was suggesting.

  “Fuck some guy, on the train?”

  “You said you liked things risky,” she giggled.

  “Have you done it?”

  She shook her head.

  “I’ve tried three times but I’ve never quite made it. But you, you could pull anyone in the space of a single stop.”

  “But the train’s full of people, so what guy is going to do it with you in front of them?”

  “You go for the last train at night,” she said. “Practically empty. You sit like this on his lap, with a long coat on that you can pull around you both. No one can tell.”

  I laughed.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  But she knew she had me hooked. She leaned forward and softly kissed me on the mouth.

  “It doesn’t have to be a guy,” she whispered in my ear. “It could be a girl.”

  I felt her hands slipping up inside my t-shirt and even though I’d never even thought about another woman touching me, it felt good.

  But what happened with Tina that evening is a whole other story. This is my story about what happened when I took up the Circle Line challenge.

  Two nights later, Tina was standing on the platform as I climbed onto the underground train. It was just about an hour before the end of service and we’d decided upon South Kensington as the starting point. I got into the first carriage, hoping that I’d be lucky enough to find the right man there; I knew the first and last carriages would be the least populated and I wasn’t hoping for an audience.

  As the train pulled out of the station, Tina waved and I watched her shrinking on the platform until she turned to go. She was going to have a drink in a pub across the road from the station and then come back in an hour’s time to see what had happened. As the train picked up speed I went and sat down, wondering if I’d been mad to agree to this challenge. I suppose I wouldn’t have to do anything if I didn’t want to but there’s a competitive edge to my character that always makes me a bit reckless.

  Not to mention the fact that I’d specially dressed for the event. I was wearing a long coat and a short skirt. And underneath that skirt, no panties; just stockings and suspenders. I wanted quick and easy access if I was going to manage to do this. But, of course, at this point my coat was pulled tight shut. Until I found a target I liked the look of I wanted to stay well covered. Just a normal girl on the Tube, going home after a late shift at work.

  I scanned the carriage: two middle-aged women, talking louder than they needed to because they were nervous of being on the Underground so late at night; a young guy with his hood up and earphones in - too young and too ugly for a second look; a corpulent business man with a ruddy face and straining shirt buttons. He brazenly met my gaze and leered, so I scowled and turned away. That was it for the first stretch. There were twenty-six stops in all before I got back round to South Kensington and number one had drew a blank. As the train slowed down for Sloane Square, I got up and stood by the door. Time to move carriages.

  The doors opened and I skipped out, quickly re-boarding the next car. This time there were more people, so I started slowly walking the length to get a good look at them. A gaggle of kids at one end tried to outdo each other with their iPod volume; an earnest young couple, intent on each other and desperate to get home together; a single girl tapping texts into her phone.

  The train lurched off and I stumbled slightly.

  A hand reached out and caught my elbow, preventing me from falling.

  “Thanks,” I said, looking round, hoping this might be my man.

  He was tall and good looking. Tight jeans and an even tighter t-shirt showing off well-honed pecs and a flat stomach. I took a breath; he even smelt good. I grabbed the same handrail as him, keeping us close, swaying in unison as the carriage rounded a bend.

  “Pretty dumb to come on the train in these,” I said with an apologetic smile and a nod at my feet. If he was a high-heels kind of guy, this should get to him. Pointed black stilettos that flattered the arch of my foot to perfection.

  He looked down and I could tell he liked what he was seeing, so I let my coat fall open a little at the bottom, just to show off a little more leg. He raised his eyebrows appreciatively.

  “Cute,” he said, “but this is my stop.”

  The train drew into the station and before I could think of anything that would persuade him to stay, he’d hopped off onto the platform. I sat down in an empty seat feeling a little dejected. Why did I think that I would be able to seduce someone on a moving train? Tina hadn’t managed it in three attempts and although she’d sworn that there were people who had, she didn’t actually know any of them. Perhaps this Circle Line chal
lenge was nothing more than an urban myth. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked for signal; we were still above ground so I sent Tina a quick text.

  No luck so far…

  A moment later she replied.

  How much leg are you showing?

  I laughed. Perhaps she was right. A more aggressive approach but at the moment there wasn’t anyone in the carriage worth trying it on. Okay, at St. James’s Park, the next stop, I would change carriages again and in the new car I’d be a bit more brazen. Show off the wares a little, tempt whoever might be a likely prospect.

  Next station, new carriage. I looked around me as we pulled away. At the far end, three young men were sitting in a row, laughing loudly as they showed each other pictures on their cell phones. I made my way down the carriage, stopping a few feet away to eye them up a bit further before going closer. They were all in jeans and casual shirts, you know in that way that close friends almost start to dress alike, but in looks they couldn’t have been more different.

  The one nearest to me was picture-book handsome: brownish hair with a copper tint, dark brown eyes, a wide smile that almost split his face and sprinkling of rusty freckles across his nose. Next to him, the guy in the middle was obviously the shortest of the three, even though they were sitting; black hair and olive skin, dark sensuous lips and heavy brows. As I stared at him, his eyes met mine. One brow arched and I could see a smile playing across his lips as I quickly looked away. The third one was oriental; a slim athletic build and a handsome open face underneath brush-cut black hair. It was his phone they were all three looking at but I couldn’t see what was so funny. And with these three to choose from, I didn’t really care.

  I carried on down the car and sat down in the seat opposite the centre guy, carefully letting my coat slip open just far enough to give them a glimpse of my stocking tops. Their conversation stopped in a heartbeat, six eyes stared and three mouths fell open. I studiously pretended not to notice, rifling through my bag, searching for something, who knows what. Then they all three started talking at once, looking at each other, looking at the adverts above the train windows, in fact anywhere but near my legs. I nearly burst out laughing as I realised they were quite a bit younger than I’d thought at first. This could be child’s play.

  As we drew into Westminster, the oriental boy stood up.

  “See you tomorrow, guys,” he said to the other two, shoving his phone back in his jeans pocket and briefly slapping hands with them. Then he was gone.

  I looked at the other two and they looked at me. I re-crossed my legs, letting a little more thigh come into view.

  The boy with the freckled nose turned in his seat and whispered something to the darker one, who shot out of his seat and just managed to slip through the gap in the doors as they were closing.

  As the train pulled out of the station, the boy’s eyes locked mine in a lingering gaze. I ran my tongue around the edge of my lips; those brown eyes were making me hungry. I’d found my target and from the way he was looking at me, I had a feeling that maybe things would work out. If he didn’t try and get out at the next stop…

  His eyes slid down to the V-shape made by the collar of my coat, to the tiny crack of cleavage it showed. Self-consciously I put a hand to my neck, pulling at one side of the collar as I scratched an imaginary itch on my shoulder. His stare was unremitting, his eyes two limpid brown pools that were starting to play havoc with my breathing. I slowly looked away but my heart carried on pounding, almost loud enough for me to hear, and it was more than I could do to avert my eyes for long. His wide mouth, even unsmiling, drew my gaze back to his face.

  Suddenly he leant forward with his elbows on his knees.

  “What’s your name?” he asked softly.

  His breath smelt pleasantly of alcohol and as I spoke I could see his tongue was stained dark from drinking red wine.

  I leant forward too, letting my coat fall open. His eyes dropped down to my breasts, sculpted to perfection in a black lace bustier Tina had leant me.

  I put a finger across my lips.

  “Shh…”

  He nodded and swooped across to sit in the seat next to mine. Our eyes locked and I could feel sexual tension thickening the air between us. I looked around our end of the carriage: an elderly couple were sitting a few seats away from us and beyond them a pale, thin man, with receding hair, even though he didn’t look very old. None of them seemed to be taking any notice of us.

  I put my hand on the boy’s thigh and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. His lips were moist and a sheen of sweat made his forehead glisten. Deep in my pussy a familiar flutter told me what was expected of me: I had to get part of this boy inside part of me. Soon.

  The train stopped sharply and the doors opened.

  A middle-aged woman with short grey hair got on and came and sat in the seat opposite us, the one my boy had just vacated.

  I decided not to take any notice of her; after all, that was the whole point of the challenge, to see how far you could get in a public railway carriage. But as the train pulled away, the boy gave her a nervous glance. I wondered how old he was, even though it was something I wouldn’t ask in a million years.

  To calm his nerves and my own, I let my hand slip further up his thigh, towards his groin, and at the same time I leaned across and kissed him softly on the lips. His hand immediately went to my shoulder to keep me there as he prolonged the kiss. His mouth encircled mine and I then felt his tongue gently, slowly, probing, inching its way between my lips. I felt a surge of heat between my legs and as I applied pressure to his warm thigh I heard a small, low groan deep in his throat. My tongue met his briefly and then I let my teeth catch his lower lip. His hand slipped from my shoulder to my rib cage, applying the gentlest of pressure through my coat to the side of my breast.

  A loud, wholly unrealistic coughing from across the carriage distracted me from what I was doing and I felt the boy’s muscles go tense under my hand. I looked around to find the woman opposite glaring at me with a look of utter disdain.

  I gave her my sweetest smile.

  “Can I help you, love?” I said.

  For a second she looked mortified but then her shoulders squared and she frowned.

  “Perhaps you two could possibly wait until you get home to behave like that,” she said, glancing round the rest of the carriage for approval.

  “Perhaps we can’t wait,” I said.

  The boy sniggered next to me. Then he took one of my hands, raised it to his mouth and started sucking on my middle finger. A rush of heat in my pussy made me shift my hips in my seat; I could feel wetness between my legs.

  “Really!” said the woman.

  The thin man further down stared at us and I saw the tip of his tongue flick through his lips.

  “Pervert,” I said quietly. “Come on, let’s change carriages.”

  The boy nodded and we stood up to wait by the door. I let my coat fall open and he stepped into its circle, pressing his hips against mine. His erection pressed against my stomach and I slid my hand between us to stroke it. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment, as one of his hands slid down my back to rest on my arse.

  As the breaks were applied for the next stop, the carriage juddered, throwing us against each other and making us stumble. Laughing, he caught me in a tight embrace until the train had stopped and the doors opened. Then he grabbed my hand and together we ran down to the doors of the last carriage. It was empty apart from a teenage couple sitting nervously apart from one another at one end.

  The boy led me towards the other end and dropped into one of the seats. Smiling, I lowered myself slowly onto his lap, facing him and giving him his first full view of what lay beneath my coat.

  “Shit,” he said.

  We grinned at each other.

  With my knees on the seats on either side, I straddled his hips and as I settled, his hand went up into the hair at the back of my head. He drew me to him and we started kissing again.

 
His mouth tasted sweetly of wine and when I breathed in deeply with my nose, he was all musky boy scent. My lace-encased nipples were rubbing up against his hard chest, so without breaking the kiss, I started to slowly unbutton his shirt. He pulled my coat around us both to hide what was going on. Then he yanked down the bustier to release my breasts. His head dropped and then I felt his tongue teasing each nipple in turn. And then he had one pinched hard between finger and thumb, then gripped by his teeth. Engorged and sensitive to his every touch, it felt as if my breasts were on fire.

  With my knees splayed wide, my very short skirt had naturally ridden up and within the huddle of the coat I could smell my own musky scent. The boy breathed in deeply and I felt his hips flexing underneath mine. He put both his hands on the outsides of my thighs and slowly slipped them up until he was grasping a buttock in each hand. I pressed back against them, feeling almost lightheaded with desire. His fingers pressed into my soft flesh and a sob escaped my throat. He let his head drop to kiss my neck, making me shiver.

  The train stopped but I ignored it. There was no turning back now. With his face pressed against my neck and my nipples grazing his chest, my hands found the fastening of his pants. The fabric was stretched tight over his burgeoning erection and as I lifted the zipper tab, the zip flew open on its own as his cock struggled free. I grasped it greedily in my hand, warm and velvety smooth, utterly beautiful. He grunted, his hips flexing as he thrust up against my grip.

  His breath on my throat was ragged and fast, his kisses now urgent and sucking. One of his hands slid further around underneath my arse and then I felt a finger slipping into my pussy.

  “God, you’re so wet,” he whispered breathily in my ear. “I want you now.”