Commuter's Luck

Standing in the already warm morning air with my coffee cup firmly in one hand and my briefcase in the other, I moved trying to find a place where all the smoke from other commuters' habits wouldn't spoil the fresh smelling breeze.

Styles have changed for the better for guys like us, with those long slinky skirts having a rebirth of popularity among the young professional women I see making their ways to work each morning. They cling to their bodies and reveal so much that it is very hard not to become distracted and forget what you were supposed to be doing.

I was on my way to a meeting in the Loop, and somehow had managed to get to the station in time to catch the earlier train. But here I was, briefcase leaning against a pole, sipping my hot coffee, scanning a story on the basketball game I'd missed the night before.

But I'm so easily distracted! They were there all around me, women of every shape and age. I tried to keep my focus on the article I'd started, but I found my eyes drifting up to watch first a young buxom girl here and then an older thin woman there. Almost all were wearing white cotton socks and running shoes over their pantyhose - the uniform of the urban commuting woman. Soap smells drifted by, mixed with innocent young girl perfumes, and most heads had not stayed under the dryer long enough. I felt sort of like I was peeking into their bathrooms as they dressed.

I couldn't resist picking out the panties each was wearing - I'm gifted that way you know. I can spot the style and fabric of a woman's panties at ten yards in good strong sunlight like this morning. Under excellent conditions, I can even come pretty close on the colors. Some of it has to do with the woman herself, the sensible, athletic types almost all were wearing cotton - mostly briefs, although a few had bikinis. Cotton has a way of gripping the fabrics that cover it, unlike my favorite fabric - nylon - which slips and slides wonderfully under almost all materials. Visible Panty Lines are my life! But I digress.

My choice was to stand near where one of the first cars would stop, so I wouldn't have far to walk once we reached the station in the Loop. Unfortunately every one of the pretty thin young girls with those unbearably sexy long skirts made her way down toward the opposite end of the platform. There they could board the one car set aside for smokers. Rats! There was no way I would sit for the entire trip in a smoke filled car just to leer at those strong, sculpted thighs I kept seeing. I settled back into reading about basketball again.

Bells sounded, and I saw the train rounding the curve toward our station. The game had captured my attention again, as I marched with the rest of the troops onto the silver car. Habitually I made my way up to the upper balcony level so I wouldn't have to share a seat with someone else. The seats up there were arranged oddly – the front ones faced forward like the seats on the main level, but the last half were against the outside wall. Unfortunately those were the only ones open on this side, and I was not up for traipsing down the stairs to the other side or into another car to find a forward facing seat. I collapsed into one, sipped my coffee and got back into the paper.

One of the things I liked best about being on the upper level was that I could peer down on the women seated on the lower level, and sometimes get a nice peek down a loose fitting blouse. Unfortunately, the car I selected was filled with nothing but sensibly dressed women, although one plump girl, was wearing a rather low cut blouse that revealed the swell of her more than ample breasts.

At the next stop, I quickly scanned the additional talent taking seats below me, and decided the article describing the upcoming basketball games was more fulfilling. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw motion on the other balcony - thin, bare legs in white running shoes disappeared up into a beige skirt with four of those big sexy pleats. A white nylon blouse, held closed by large white, fabric covered buttons displayed smallish, tight breasts. She was wearing a full slip I surmised through the translucent fabric, and she also had on a sensible bra - although I knew from experience, that breasts like hers would need no real support. I felt that old stirring down below.

The skirt was of a heavier material, and I knew I only had seconds to decide what her panties were like before she took a seat. Damn! Too heavy, and the wrong angle. Oh my, bare legs! She must be anticipating the mid eighty degree day forecasted by all the local stations. Wonderful straight, shapely bare legs!

But, Wait; there is a god! She chose the seat directly across from me. As she organized her briefcase and coffee cup, I dropped my eyes to the paper so as not to tip her to my intention. The stirring become more urgent as she plopped herself into the seat, and I timed my glance perfectly to that point where gravity overcomes muscle power just as the buttocks make contact with the seat.

The flash of white drilled into my brain. White panties, almost surely nylon! The thin legs automatically snapped closed as she settled in to her morning routine, and I began mine. For the first time I looked up to her face; older, probably in her mid forties, glasses, simple jewelry and makeup. Her hands confirmed my guess at her age, and the only ring she wore was on her right hand.

My glance drifted down a bit, and I lingered on those perfect A cup breasts. Through the heavy bra material, I could watch the automatic cycling of her nipples - tightening then relaxing as she read a hardbound Danielle Steel novel. Downward again went my eyes to her small waist, cinched by a chic leather belt matching the shoes I guessed she carried in her canvas bag.

The fitted skirt was probably linen, and was just a bit too tight across her slim hips. Shifting in her seat, I sensed the left leg's movement nanoseconds before it began its upward motion to cross over the other. My timing continued to be perfect, and I raised my eyes at the precise instant that her thighs parted to complete the motion. Yes, they were nylon panties for certain. I was also able to catch a glimpse of the bulging top seam of her panty crotch panel.

Now I had to find out what style they were. Shifting my gaze to the place on the skirt where her hips began to swell outward, I looked for that telltale indentation on her hip indicating the elastic waistband of a pair of bikini panties. Nothing at first, but then as we made a turn and the morning sunlight poured in from the window behind her; I could see just a bit of a shadow. Aha! The mystery was solved.

She seemed engrossed in her book and her legs gave no signs of movement, so I turned to the front pages of the Sun-Times to see what was passing for news this day. Mega-mergers, disgraced judges, gang murders – now this was more like it! The Marshal Fields ads featured a sale on all Vanity Fair lingerie, including my favorites, nylon briefs with the little triangle of lace at the leg openings. I sighed, and felt the stirring begin again. Movement across the way!

She had shifted her weight onto her right buttock just before lifting her left leg up and off the right – she was very proper, not allowing the thighs to separate even a small bit. Rats! Both feet were now planted squarely on the floor, but the book was being propped against her hip on the seat. She leaned to the left for the canvas bag at her feet, raising her right cheek up a few inches as she did so. I could see up her bare leg (tanned too – she must have been in a warm climate recently with that great natural color.

The bag was too clumsy for her to lift up, so she poked around for something in it as it sat on the floor. The skirt she had on was not terribly short – a few inches above the knee, but when she sat down, it pulled up about half way up her thighs. Now as she leaned over the bag on the floor, her right thigh and buttock were raised four or five inches and my eyes were glued to them. As she grabbed something in the bag, she leaned the extra inch or so I needed to catch the white edge of her panties where they wrapped around her butt.

My cock responded immediately and grew uncomfortably in my Jockeys, but she had gotten what she wanted, and quickly shifted back to her chaste flat-footed posture again. I quickly focused on the paper again, hoping she had not seen me leering – I knew she had no idea that I could see her panties, or even that I was peeking at her. She busied herself with a small day planner, and I managed to get up some interest in an article on summer concerts and festivals.

Soon, coffee gone, and her day planned, she picked up the book and began to read some more. I allowed myself timed glances, and stopped paying any attention to the newspaper. She seemed to be nodding off as she tried to read, and her chin would bob down a bit, before she'd catch herself and widen her eyes trying to keep awake. The cycle increased, and before long the motion and sounds of the train moving lulled her into a peaceful sleep – wonderful, flatfooted sleep!

Her book lay open on her lap, both hands slipping to the seat as the train rocked and rolled its way to the station. We were past all the local stops and the next would be our last, in the loop. There would be at least fifteen glorious, undisturbed minutes for me to catch another peek or two at her lovely white nylon panties. And then he came!

The conductor was at the far door, and shouted "Tickets!" Damn! She woke with a start, grabbed her book with one hand, and took her purse up with the other to look for her ticket. As he passed below, he delayed his pace just a bit (I noticed, she most likely didn't) to check her monthly pass. She was holding it as she continued to read, and it was against her left knee. The conductor being a good employee was checking to make sure it was current – and also peeking up her dress at the same time. She hadn't noticed he could see between her legs, which were parted just a tiny bit – I was extremely jealous.

He never even looked at my ticket, even though it was a ten-ride type he needed to punch. The view must have been very impressive I thought. Then he was gone.

The train again lulled her back to sleep, and I got what I had waited for, for all these years. Her legs opened just a bit at first, allowing me to imagine that the slightly light part of the shadow under her skirt was her panties. Then, the train began a long sweeping turn, which brought the sun to my side of the car, and it's low morning angle filled the space with warm golden color – and provided the additional illumination I needed.

The movement of the train around the curve caused her right leg to swing open a few more inches, and then a few more – so she eventually was sitting flat footed with her knees almost ten inches apart. I noticed I had stopped breathing, and I quickly covered my obvious intent, by taking a sip from my by now cold coffee. Glancing around the car, I saw that no one else seemed to be aware of my good luck, or how entranced I was by the show across the car.

My cock, however, was another thing entirely. I shifted my weight to one cheek and discretely released my partner from his downward angle, allowing him to reach up toward my belt instead. Turning to another page I would not read I glanced up over the top of the tabloid for some serious examination.

White nylon covered her crotch. I could see the entire crotch panel (gusset I had learned it's called), and even up further where it's double fabric meets the single layer of nylon making up the body of the panty. These were exquisite! There was a wide band of lace that started above where the gusset ended and ran along the top of the leg openings. But what was different was how full the gusset seemed – wider and thicker than most I'd ever seen. Maybe she was wearing one of those nasty panty liners under them.

No, I'd recognize the stiffness they gave the fabric – these were designed that way. Movement! My head snapped back down to the paper. Had she raised her head? Had she seen me looking? No other movement, not even her legs, so she must still be asleep. Must just be my normal self-protection system being set too high.

She flexed first one cheek then the other and I could see the nylon create soft folds that seemed to shimmer in the light. This fabric was different too. It was not the cheap stuff most women bought, nor did it look like the better nylon companies like Vanity Fair used. Not exactly iridescent, but shimmering; it made the light shadows of the folds seem to reach out – asking to be touched.

This woman liked to wear her panties a lot looser than most and it met my need to look at and appreciate the panty fabric a lot more interesting. As I openly looked between her legs, I fantasized about what they would feel like if I could sit next to her and run my fingers ever so lightly across her crotch. How hot they'd be in this weather…radiating the power of her sex, which they protected.

I'd want to pull the crotch material up and away enough to run the double fabric between my thumb and index finger – remembering when it would be two layers of nylon instead of nylon with a cotton liner like almost all were today. I knew I'd have to raise those fingers to my nose after rubbing them, to see if any of her scent had been transferred to me. And then I'd have to let my whole hand drift across that very flat belly to feel the way the shimmering nylon tickled my palm, causing my cock to respond.

My cock! Oh man, I hoped that the leaking that I knew was by now in full flow, wouldn't soak thru my Jockeys and into the fabric of my tan suit pants, where I knew everyone would see the dark stain. A quick glance relieved me – for now.

I wanted – no needed to touch those panties! Every bump and lurch of the train caused the panties to shift, and the sunlight on the nylon had me imagining that I had her in the tiny restroom of the train car. She'd be bent over the sink as I slid my hard cock along the crease of her ass – trying to keep from emptying it before we got to the station. I was sure I could actually feel the nylon against my cock as I drilled my eyes into the space between her shapely thighs.

Movement again! This time she opened her eyes before I could look away, and she instantly knew what I had been doing. I pretended to look at the paper, but couldn't keep from looking back, and still she had not closed her legs. Amazed, I dared a glance up at her face, and she looked as if she'd gone back to sleep. This time her head was leaned back against the glass of the window, and her hips slid forward just a bit, pulling the skirt up a little more, allowing her legs to part a few more inches.

I now not only wasn't breathing, I couldn't! Sliding forward had also pulled the panty material tight across her pussy, revealing the crease beneath. I wanted to pull my cock out so badly by now, that I took a real risk by laying one hand across my lap so I could put some pressure on it. She shifted to the left, and the nylon glistened. Now to the right, and it seemed to light up again.

She was doing the same thing I was, subtly putting pressure on her clit with the panty material – I pressed harder and shifted first to the left and then to the right – I was on fire! Now it looked as if the crotch material was darkening a bit from her actions, and I wished my head could press up against the damp spot to drink in her full womanly scent. I could see that the leg bands were trimmed with a very tiny, delicate white lace band unlike anything I'd ever seen before.

I thought seriously about taking the chance and cumming then and there in my suit pants, but thought better of it remembering my meeting. Can't risk a career for this – or could I? The feeling of my cock slipping against the slippery pre-cum fluid that it was leaking into my shorts was delicious, and I was locked onto a view of those unusually pretty panties. I almost came out of my skin when the conductor made his announcement on the PA system that we were coming into Union Station.

"Shit! Not now I screamed to myself." Gathering myself together, I tried to think about what I should do about the raging hard-on that was poking furiously up against the front of my pants. I couldn't get up for a while, so I grabbed my briefcase and took out my planner like I needed to organize myself. My eyes risked a glance at my partner across the way – she still had her head against the window, but now her legs were chastely closed. Two guys excused themselves and passed me for the stairs and before long the car had cleared – except for she and I.

I didn't know what to do, and then I heard her say "Hi". "Hi" I stammered back. "Thought I'd get organized before I hit the street" "Me too" she said.

I busied myself trying to look like I cared about what was in the planner. "Can I ask you a favor?" she said politely. "Aaah, Sure" I replied somewhat surprised, "Anything".

"I have change into my contact lenses and I think I've got something in my eye. Would you have a look at it for me?"

"OK" I managed to croak out, thinking only of how embarrassed I'd be standing up with this tent in my pants.

But before I could think anything more, she had gathered all her things and was on her way down the stairs to the tiny bathroom below us. I forgot my coffee cup, even though it was a much beloved souvenir of a trip to New York with an old girl friend.

With my briefcase in my right hand, and my paper held casually against the pants (I now noticed had a small dark wet spot a few inches below my belt), I made my way down the stairs to meet the woman I'd just had visual sex with. The first thing I noticed was that she smelled wonderful. Lilly of the Valley! – My cock twitched back to life in my pants.

She had the door already pulled open, and had set her bags on the floor under the tiny stainless steel sink as I walked up. She nodded for me to enter the small room with her, and I soon found out how small the room was. The back of my calves pressed up against the stainless steel toilet bowl where I had placed my new leather briefcase. My hips were leaned backward to keep from pressing against her belly, as I looked into her eyes.

"Nothing" I said, "There's nothing I can see in them. Which eye was it?"

"Wait", she said, "And she reached out and slid the door to the room closed with her left hand.

"What…" I blurted out; confused by this turn of events.

She reached out, grabbed me by my still hard cock, looked into my eyes and said; "I saw how you couldn't get your eyes off my panties up there. Do you think I don't know what kind of man you are?"

"But, but…" I tried to begin an explanation, "I didn't mean to…"

"Don't try to explain," she said in a surprisingly pleasant tone, "I do understand men like you. You're a panty fetishist aren't you?"

I must have turned about purple with embarrassment, and could not get a word out of my mouth. And then she squeezed my cock harder and took my right hand with her left and placed it on her skirt, over her pussy. "This is what you wanted to touch earlier didn't you?"

"N_ n_ no!" I stammered unconvincingly.

She left my hand pressed up against her sex, and reached down to the hem of her skirt lifting it up along with her slip until my hand was resting on her panties. Unable to hold myself back, at this point I began to touch them and her just as I had mentally up on the balcony.

The material was wonderful, just as I imagined. Softer and more slippery than any I've ever touched – and there have been hundreds. But what was strange, was the way they were made. The waistband of these bikini panties was made of very wide lace, almost six inches high, and about two inches of it was sewed onto the body of the panty. There seemed to be a tiny bit of lace trim along the leg openings, and when I leaned back more to look, she pushed me so I ended up sitting on my briefcase on the toilet.

We heard movement in the car, and she quickly moved the lock on the door into the closed position. With a finger to her lips, she lifted her skirt up so it turned inside out and covered her blouse, giving me a totally unobstructed view of these very Pretty Pretty Panties.

Do you like them, she whispered as she began to turn so I could see them from all sides. "Yes, of course, they're beautiful. I've never seen anything like them." I said.

"And you've seen a lot of panties I'd bet" she whispered. "Do you like to rub against nylon panties too?" she said, beginning to stroke my penis slowly through my now hopelessly stained trousers.

I could only nod my assent, as words now were hopelessly lodged in my throat.

She reached over and pinning her skirt to herself with both elbows, she reached down with both hands and unbuckled my belt and undid my pants before pulling me up to a standing position again. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and sent them to the ground to join my trousers.

My penis bobbed up and down from the quick motion, and I felt it throb in anticipation of what seemed next. He and I were right, she cupped him with both hands and brought him gently up against the nylon panty covering her belly. Fire shot up my spine and I felt my knees start to buckle. One of her hands slid down and cupped my balls as the other pressed my penis onto the panty with an up and down motion. I needed no more encouragement and started sliding on my own.

Not another word was said between us, but as I felt my fluids staining her Pretty Panties, she encouraged my hands to wander both over and into the panties.

"Oh my!" I thought, "These panties are not only pretty outside, they are Pretty Inside too." I'd found that the tiny lace edge I'd seen at the leg opening when I was peeking at her was really part of a very soft lace decoration that ran along the entire inside of the leg opening. I had only seen the edge that stuck out, but it was really three inches wide inside. And now that I was fulfilling my fantasy, I rubbed the crotch panel between my thumb and forefinger and found that it too was covered by lace all across the inside; and it was very slippery from her lubricants. Boldly, I brought my fingers to my nose as I'd dreamed.

When I rubbed her belly, it was plain that there was not just one layer of material, but at least two – I could tell from the way the nylon outside slid so freely against another layer. That was why my cock felt so wonderful sliding against her panties! Reaching behind, I felt the same thing, but this time it felt as though there was not only two layers of nylon, but there also seemed to be row upon row of lace running horizontally – like rumba panties, but all inside! "What are these panties?" I thought as I frantically touched everywhere.

She pushed me back down onto my briefcase again, pressing my knees together as she straddled me. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she pressed her hips slowly forward until her panty crotch made contact with my penis. Pinning it up against my shirt, she began a slow rubbing motion that electrified my spine, causing uncontrollable hip thrusts from me. The nylon was magical, drawing out orgasmic shudders from my body, yet not forcing the ultimate climax.

Then came the biggest surprise of all. She lifted herself up turned around 180 degrees and pressed her butt back so my penis was up against the crack of her ass. I started moving so I was sliding on the inside rumba lace – the different friction took my breath away. Then before I knew what was happening, she reached back, pushing my cock downward until it caught against the back seam of her panty crotch panel.

Raising her ass upward, I felt my cock slide not between her legs and into the open air as I expected, but down into a soft pocket of nylon! I was sliding up against her pussy inside her panty crotch panel – surrounded by two layers of nylon and another layer of lace. Then the biggest surprise of all as she cupped her hand onto her cock covered pussy, and I felt her fingers begin to press me into her pussy as I automatically thrust my hips into this nylon haven.

She gasped as I slid into her in one furious thrust, and my body became hyper sensitized to everything. I smelled the Lilly of Valley perfume as I lay over her back with my face pressed kisses into her neck. My left hand had found her nipples through all the layers of clothing and alternately twisted them each.

The right hand at first slid down into the panty waistband searching for her clit. She drew it out onto the outside so I could appreciate the three layers covering of nylon covering her pussy, as if she knew what a nylon panty fetishist like me really wanted to touch.

My nylon sheathed cock quickly became soaked with her juices and my own, and piston in and out of her. Our rhythms merged, and before long I knew that what I never wanted to end, was about to come to an earth shattering finish. My ears were ringing, my spine was convulsing each time my cock slid along the nylon in her cunt, and my fingers and hands felt like extensions of my cock – and about to orgasm themselves as they stroked her panties and nipples.

I felt her climax begin on my fingers before she began the penultimate body quaking, and that of course triggered the unconscious need for me to finish with her. I felt mine begin as my entire spine erupted with waves of ecstasy that seemed to pour downward into my nylon covered cock. Semen hurled out in almost painful spasms as I thrust violently into her soaking cunt. She ground her cunt back onto me as she gasped for air and shook uncontrollably.

My fingers continued their ministrations onto her clit until she finally pulled them off, but kept them pinned under her hand against her still twitching belly. I felt my cock begin to shrink and as it lost its size, began to slip out of her pussy. In it's super sensitive state, I was sure I could feel as the small knot of nerve endings under it's head slid over each lovely nylon thread in that soaked panty crotch.

Unable to hurry, and beginning to wonder when the crews came to clean the trains, I slipped my free hand to the waistband of the panties and turned it inside out. There hand sewn along the middle of the back was a tag that read "Pretty Inside Panties" "Custom Made for Susan" and an 800 phone number. When I turned the label over it read, "Made in the USA", "Size 6", "Hand Wash–Only"

Just then, she gave her hips a little thrust forward, and I popped out of her pussy and that wonderful nylon nest. She turned plopped me down on my briefcase and planted a kiss on my forehead, and before I could say a word she stooped down for her bags, slid open the door and walked out of my life.

There were several long seconds that passed with me sitting with my shrinking cock sticking into the air and the bathroom door open before I thought to slam it closed again. Unable to think clearly, I put myself back together the best I could under the circumstances before rushing off to the meeting I was now going to be late for.

Fast walking east on Adams, I noticed my pants had dried and didn't look too wrinkled, but more than that I knew that my mustache smelled of Lilly of the Valley, and my fingers were saturated with the scent of a woman who had worn the most astonishing panties I'd ever seen – a woman I would never see again. Waves of sadness flooded into me, and I had to fight them off as I rode the elevator up to the 8th floor of this high rise to my meeting.

By the time I got to the outside door of the company I was trying so hard to get as a customer, I had gathered back my professional air and knew exactly what I would have to do to get this business. The secretary greeted me, and assured me that I was not that late, and that my potential customer would see me in a few minutes.

Unconsciously I raised my fingers to my nose and sniffed her scent just as the office door opened and there she stood inviting me in, Susan McIntire, VP of Operations! A small smile crossed her face as she shook my hand and said, "You better have sharp pencil with you today, because I've had a tough morning already and I have to save enough money today to buy some expensive new things."

I replied without hesitation, "Oh, I Do. You'll be able to afford lots of new things before I'm done with you!"

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