Stories From The 6 Train

“Don’t stop, Mason… Don’t stop…” I beg him, my pussy tightening around his shaft. That familiar pressure starts to mount inside of me and I press my forehead against the wall, surrendering to the incoming avalanche.

“You don’t need to ask,” he tells me, thrusting even faster. I’m barely moving, but even so I can already feel heavy beads of sweat forming on my forehead. Mason is on a whole new level; forget about boys, I found myself a man.

When I finally come and my muscles start to twitch, I place my forearms on the wall and hiss through my gritted teeth. Pleasure rages through me with a fury and my mind starts to drift off; right now, I can’t focus on anything aside from the river of ecstasy rushing through me.

“Now,” he whispers against my ear, slowly pulling his cock out of me. “I want you back on your knees.” I take one deep breath and obedient, I turn on my heels and go down in front of him. His cock is wet and glistening from my fluids and, guided by wicked instincts, I lean into him and place my lips against his glans. My own scent and flavor hits me at once and, losing all control, I open my mouth as wide as I can and roll my lips down his shaft. As I move back, I suck him dry, taking all of my fluids into my own mouth.

When I take his cock out of my mouth, I look up at him and smile. Mischief is burning in my heart and I pick up my discarded thong up from the floor. It’s still wet, and I wrap it around his cock; grinning wildly, I place my hand on top of it and start to stroke him softly.

“I want you to come in my mouth,” I tell him, looking into his eyes. Slowly, I start stroking him harder, now using both my hands. When my rhythm reaches its peak, I pull the thong down his shaft and then throw it away; it’s time to get serious. “I want all of it inside of me,” I continue to say, the words tumbling down my lips completely unfiltered. I’m unhinged, and I just love it.

I’m fucking my stepfather, and I’m being as dirty as I’ve ever been; by all means, I shouldn’t be feeling sexy, but that’s exactly how I feel. I don’t know, there’s just something about the way he looks at me… About the way he gets hard for me. Is there anything better than knowing that a man like Mason can’t look away from you?

“Fuck,” he groans and, when I feel his cock spasming slightly, I lunge at him and place his glans inside my mouth. Not even a fraction of a second after, he erupts, his warm cum rushes into my mouth, his cock pulsing violently as it unleashes all of his seed. It’s salty, and has a harsh flavor; the best way to describe it would be to say that it tastes like a real man. Which seems just right.

It only takes two seconds for my mouth to be brimming with his semen; still, he keeps on cumming. Thick strands of it start dripping down my chin and, as he keeps on gushing, more and more of his seed escapes my mouth. But I remain frozen in place, not taking my mouth off his cock; I only do it when the spasms stop, half of his load inside my mouth, and the other half already dripping down my neck and moving toward my tits.

Moving slowly, I roll my lips back and his cock pops out of my mouth. Looking up at him, I let a wild grin take over my face and then open up my mouth; the moment I do it, his cum starts to spill out of my mouth and drip down my chin. Grinning back at me, Mason places two fingers under my chin and closes my mouth.

“Swallow,” he tells me in a hushed tone and, without even thinking about it, I do it. As his flavor burns down my throat, he reaches for me with one hand and makes me go up to my feet. Now standing in front of him, I let a gentle smile take over my face. He brushes two fingers over my cum-coated lips, his eyes glazed as he takes in the sight. With a smile on his lips, he bends down and picks up my thong from the floor; he presses it against my lips, using it to dry my skin. I stand there, frozen in place, as he moves the fabric over my skin at a tortuous pace, cleaning me up.

When he’s finally done, he lets the thong fall from his fingers and kisses me.

“What the fuck are we doing?” he asks, more to himself than to me. I say nothing and just look into his eyes; I’m wondering the same.

What the fuck are we doing?

Mason

I can hardly believe what transpired between Becca and I … in my office no less. Now I'm in my apartment, leaning back into the leather of my couch and looking out across the city. Cityscapes have a way of calming my nerves. The skyscrapers are a testament to human achievement, power, and determination. The hum of traffic, people, and hustle is music to my ears.

One of the reasons why I chose this apartment was for the view. Floor to ceiling windows on the 40th floor… the view is unparalleled. I pick up my glass of scotch from the nearby table and listen as the ice clinks against each other. I swirl it around for a moment with quick flicks of my wrist before bringing it to my lips.

The heat of the liquid burns a comforting trail down my throat and I close my eyes. I need to figure out what's going on … with Becca and Lorna. Lorna seems hell bent on destroying the company I've worked so hard to build up. I don't understand why she'd urge us to embark on such a risky investment. No, risky isn't the right word … it's downright suicide.

And Becca … what can I say? She drives me wild. The way she walked into my office … determined, knowing exactly what she wanted … I couldn't help myself. I knew I needed her as much as she needed me. There was a hunger in her movements … and in mine. But I know it's wrong.

There's a knock on my door and I stand up to answer it, but I must've left it unlocked because the door opens without me, and before I can react, in walks Lorna.

"Hello, dear," s

he says, placing one hand on my arm and giving it an affectionate squeeze. She then walks past me, throwing her leather purse on top of the dining room table.

Her touch makes me want to shrink away, and when she calls me 'dear,' I try not to lose my stomach. Instead, I walk away and pour myself another glass of scotch without saying a word. I think the expression is speaking volumes to her right now. It's a mixture of disgust, exhaustion, and frustration, and she's trying to ignore the fact that I want nothing to do with her.

At least the scotch should help … I hope.

She approaches me from behind and rakes her fingers through my hair.

"You're not still mad about earlier, are you?" she asks.

I lift her fingers off of my hair and take a few steps away from her.

"I don't know if mad is the right word, but—"

She cuts me off. "Good, because I have an idea," she purrs, walking to me and placing her hands on my chest. She reaches for my tie and starts loosening the knot. "I think I know of the perfect way to let off a little steam."

She pulls my tie from my shirt collar and moves to the buttons, slowing unhooking them. I bring my scotch to my lips and take a big gulp.