Email from Cindy's Box #07

Urgency always comes in false starts. Whenever there's a crisis, it seems like we rush and rush to take action, and then we sit and wait in tedium for everyone else in the world to catch up. So when a crisis fell in my lap on a Monday afternoon as I was trying to get out the door, I decided to take advantage of the long lulls between me fixing everything to catch up on some naughty emails.

That was a terrible idea. Me, alone in my little cube in that big, empty office, waiting for a phone call from the other side of the country, reading about the wild things Sierra did today. It's easy to see how I was a little distracted when the call came in and the problem was all cleared up and I finally got to go home.

I know it's cliche as an orange cat, but I really hate Mondays. I love my job, it's not like I dread the dull drugery of cubicle life or anything. The issue I have is that it always seems like no one anywhere actually works on Mondays. Except for me.

I mean, okay, obviously people work on Mondays. I imagine most people do, really. But, sometimes, between people coming in late or leaving early or what have you, it seems like Monday is just significantly less busy. The office feels empty most of the day, there's less urgent-turn-around work. Even the trains are less busy.

And when I have the dubious honor of staying late in the day on Monday for an urgent item, the trains are almost empty. So much the better for my distractions, I guess.

This morning, like most Mondays, the train was pretty un-crowded. I hate being in the packed cars, the rush hour cars, so I always make the trek down to the end of the station to climb into the last cars, the half-empty ones. They're never like the sardine cans up at the front, my body crammed against a hundred others. I don't know why, but every station is designed with the stairs all packed in by the head of the train, so everyone gets in there. Even when it's busy, there's always empty seats in the back, because of all the stupid people piling in up front.

In the mornings, I come in early enough and live far enough out that there's only two or three people in there when I get on. Usually the same early-risers every day. You get to recognize these people you don't even know, the close-shaved guy who always wears a tie, the guy who never wears a tie and always needs a shave. The girl who always wears that poofy jacket.

I guess I'm the girl who wears the ugly long black raincoat. They made us buy them for our uniforms in school, and it grew on me, ugly as it is. It's warm and big. So big I could go naked under it, which I've never done, no matter how much all my male former classmates begged. Not that I haven't thought about it more than I ought to.

The best part about it is the pockets. All my pretty coats have fake pockets or tiny pockets, but this is military style, so it has deep pockets. It even has the kind of pockets that let me reach inside to get at my pants pockets. You know, if girls pants had any pockets to speak of. And if I wasn't actually wearing a skirt. Kinda like pocket pockets. Like in coveralls.

Of course, after a day like today, with a nice long lull of just a wonderfully awful story about how Sierra went for a run with Ted and Ethan while I was cooped up in a cubicle, well, my brain is almost teasingly suggesting that I hike up my skirt under the long jacket and take proper advantage of my pocket pockets. I can't say I'm rejecting the idea outright, either, as I climb into the otherwise vacant, rear-most train car.

Sierra hadn't meant it to end up the way it did. Well, that seemed to be the way it went, at least. When Ted said Ethan was joining their run this morning, she'd decided against the skimpy short shorts she always wore to turn on Ted. She went back to her nice, conservative sweats. The ones she wore before Ted started running with her. But Ted would have none of that, and when she'd warned she'd be showing off quite a lot for Ethan, Ted just grinned and said "Good."

I could hardly blame her for taking the not-so-subtle cue and leaving her panties behind, too.

I jump as the doors open at the next stop. I realize I'd been spacing out, thinking of this girl I'd never met, my own body substituted for hers in my mind as Ted sneakily slipped the shorts off her butt right as she knocked on Ethan's front door, baring her tight little ass to the world. She slipped it back on before getting caught, but that couldn't stop the two guys from oogling her butt moments later when she climbed up into the truck in those skimpy running shorts. In my real world, no one gets on at this stop, of course, and I let my mind wander back to Sierra.

Her ride to the park was some fun, in and of itself. Nothing like her ride home later, for sure. Ted's hand sat casually on her bare thigh, her squeezed in-between the two of them. I can even picture her sneaking sidelong glances at the plain erections in both mens' running shorts. Two tents, pitched for her.

They made it to the park without too much more to note. Sierra followed Ethan out the driver's side, just to give him a look down the ample cleavage in her tight tank top, her only attire besides the shoes, socks and shorts. As they stretched, Ethan couldn't take his eyes off her, and I'm certain Ted noticed it. Sierra, judging by Ted's hint this morning, didn't hold back at letting them both sneak peeks.

I bite my lip, wrigling in my seat as I come up to another stop. Okay, if there's no one here either, I'm doing it. I'm hiking up the skirt. The door opens, chimes, pauses, shuts with a hiss.

I said I'd do it, so I'll do it. Only as good as my word, right? I lift my butt off the seat, reaching down past the bottom of my rain coat and grabbing the edge of my skirt. I tug it up and quickly push the coat back in place as I sit down.

I did it. I'm actually sitting on the train with my skirt hiked up around my waist. Sure, even if someone was here, they'd have no idea, but, now, if I want to, I can just reach into that pocket pocket and slide my fingers along my pink cotton panties...

They started running next. Down the main path, not through the woods yet. That comes later. She's the one who brought it up, about the shorts. She told Ethan she was planning on wearing sweats, but Ted likes her shorts so much, he convinced her to wear them. Ted said he just wanted to make her show off. Ethan said the shorts are certainly worth showing off, as he ran along behind her.

That's when it really started. Well, that's when the next bit started. Sierra asked Ted what was so exciting about the boring old shorts, and he said the shorts themselves weren't quite exactly what he was looking at. So she hooked her thumbs in the back of her shorts, slipping them down as she jogged along, giving Ethan a full view of the taut, smooth buns they were really looking at.

Another stop, and my car is still empty. I slide a hand into the side of my coat, around the crumpled mess of my skirt, finding my bare thigh. I slide my fingers along, their touch sending a tingle into me as I make it to the soft cloth between my thighs. I can see her as she ran through the park, two guys with obvious erections running along with her. I see when the bikers came up, passing, Sierra trying to cover herself up, Ted grabbing her hand, leaving her exposed as they pass. I sigh softly as my fingers run ever so gently along my burning hot slit, teasing myself through the thin cloth, aching for more.

The train stops, the door hisses open, but no one's going to get on. My mind is on Sierra and the shorts.

Ethan had asked to see more, and Ted had no problem with that. Sierra's a beautiful girl, and the prospect of seeing her bare it all right there in the park was incredible. Even when it was just the two of them, he'd never gotten her to go this far. But Sierra wanted a trade. They'd get to see more when she got to.

Ted hadn't even hesitated, tugging down the front of his shorts, his stiff cock swaying just out of beat with his running as he hooked the loose waistband under his balls. Sierra grinned, grasping at it, slowing down to a walk. It's Ethan's turn, she said, falling between the two of them, sliding her hand along Ted's shaft.

I hear a newspaper crack, and my eyes open wide, my hand whipping out from my pocket pocket. Some old guy is sitting on the other side of the train, facing away from me, reading a paper. Has he seen me? I can't tell.

I'm slouching in my seat, my legs are spread wider than they ought to be. I realize my breathing is unmistakably unsteady. And deep. Maybe I looked asleep. Good thing he hadn't come over to wake me.

And they just walked along, Sierra's ass totally exposed as she stroked Ted, both of them trying to convince Ethan to let her handle him, too.

I bite my lip, sliding my hand back into my coat, keeping my eye on the old guy. I hold back a sigh as my fingertips make contact with damp cotton. I need it so bad. As soon as he's gone, if there's no one else on, I have to take off the panties.

Ethan looked down the path. Empty. He looked behind them. Empty, too. So he did it, pulling up a leg of his shorts, awkwardly snaking his hard cock down and around. The loose pant leg easily shifted over, and his stuck straight out. Sierra giggled, grinning, grasping on. One cock in each hand, she stroked them slowly. Then she spotted an opening. A side trail took off there. Through the woods.

She let go of both of them and drew her hands to the hem of her top. They'd get to see all they wanted, she said, but only if they could keep up! She tugged the tank top over her head, tossing it at Ethan and darting into the trees, at first fixing her shorts back into place just so she could sprint faster, then tugging them into a tight wedgie to show off her ass. Laughing, she looked back. Ted had slipped his shorts back up, but the head of his cock still peaked out the waistband. Ethan was far too stiff to snake his back up that leg hole, and it bounced along as he ran. He was quite plainly not carrying her top, and she bit her lip, the knowledge that she was already past the point of no return, topless in the park with no way to re-dress, only heightening her willingness to take this even futher. She picked up her pace.

Her heart was racing, but hardly from the running. She couldn't believe this had gone so far, she couldn't believe Ted was letting it keep going. She couldn't beleive how much it was all turning her on.

I let out a studdering sigh, far too loud. I open my eyes, locking onto the old guy's spot, but he's gone, newspaper and all. How many stops has it been? I sit upright, scanning the front of the car, breathing more deeply than I ought to. He's definitely gone. No one else is on. Now I have to do it. That was the deal.

I slouch back down, pulling up the bottom of my coat. I grasp the sides of my panties, slipping them quickly off my butt as I lift up, then they're down my legs, and I'm lifting my knees as I tug them around my light brown heels. They tangle with the straps and I notice the train slowing. It's another stop.

My heart skips, and I snap upright in my seat, yanking my coat into place, my underwear still looped around one foot. The door hisses open. The door hisses closed. I'm still alone.

I reach down, struggle off the panties, balling the not-so-surpriingly damp cloth and stuffing it in my coat pocket.

Back to Sierra.

She was running along a path through the thicker part of the park, the hiking trails. And she was topless. I can picture it, running topless through the park. The only thing she's wearing is a pair of skimpy short shorts. Just the thought of doing what she's doing is enough to slide my hand back inside my coat, between my legs, to the bare, smooth-shaven lips between my thighs.

I slide a finger along my slippery, wet slit, letting out a sigh, alone and uncaring in the empty train car.

Ted and Ethan had caught up to her, easily, and Ted had stopped her, dropping his shorts right then and there. She turned to him and grabbed his cock in her hand, biting her lip as she kissed Ted. She bent down, her ass raised pointedly, invitingly, almsot pleadingly at Ethan as her mouth closed around Ted's cock.

Ted told Ethan that that sure looked like an invitation him, and Ethan hooked a single finger into the back of her shorts, running it down between her cheeks, tugging the shorts out of her crack as she let a very enjoyable sigh slip around Ted's cock. His finger made contact with her wet slit as the shorts dropped down her legs.

I press my finger inside me, right there, on the train, and it feels so wonderful. It slips out again, and now two press into me as I gasp, my knees pressed up against the seatback in front of me, my jacket falling away, baring skin all the way up to my hips.

"I don't usually see this much of you." My heart stops, and I rip my hand out from between my legs, sitting upright in an instant, my reshuffled jacket splitting far enough up my bare thigh to clearly show not just my still-displaced skirt, but my plain lack of panties.

"Ahh..." I mumble, looking over at the guy sitting across the aisle, wiping my shaky hand on the seat beside me. "Ah fuck..." I try to swallow. Oh god, I know him. He's the tie guy. I see him every fucking day. And he just saw me... "Ah fuck..." I'm screaming in panic in my head, but my whole body feels fumbling and frozen as he smiles levelly at me, not a smirk or a grin, just the friendly, casual smile he always has for everyone. Amiable.

"I'm sorry, I mean, I just don't usually see you on the way back." He almost looks pained, apologetic. "I was just, I mean, I guess I don't see this much of you either... Although, that's hardly a complaint..."

I manage to swallow, my thighs aching, my feet unable to just sit properly on the floor. "How long?" I whisper.

"Oh, I've been on a while." He says, still casual, "I got on the same time as another fellow, he sat up front, with the newspaper?" A level smile.

I sit, trying to stay still, painfully aware of my near-nudity, the bunched-up skirt feeling obvious now under the jacket, my illusion of secrecy shattered. Not that he'd need to see the buldge to know just how bared I was. "Oh god... " I shudder, realizing why my feet seem so fumbling and uncooperative. My panties are still around my ankles.

"I imagine you stayed late today?" He pauses, but I don't respond, yet he goes on, still casual, like he finds a half-naked girl fingering herself on the train every day. "I can understand, long day at the office, need a little relief, empty train car..." Another pause. I can't believe he's still talking about this. "I'd be more than happy to give you a hand." I look at him, my embarrasment now competing with my shock. "Or a cock, as the case may be."

"Oh god no..." My eyes are panicky, but I can't help but see it. Sierra and Ted and Ethan. And Ethan was behind her, her pussy bared, naked save for the shoes, the shorts now lost to the high branch Ethan had tossed them on. A minute ago I was aching for that. Fuck, I'm still aching for that. I look at him again, biting my lip. It was never a competition; embarrasment and shock were never even in the running against lust.

"I mean, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend." Apologetic again. Pained. "I'm very deft with my tongue, I'd be more than happy to help in any way I can."

I stare almost blankly at eyes full of nothing but earnest and eager helpfullness. And dear god, I want it.

"I..." I start, but he shakes his head.

"Say no more. I'll get off here and catch the next train." He stands up, the train slowing, and grabs a rail. "I'm sorry to bother you."

"No, wait!" I grab his arm, finally noticing the obvious buldge in his pants. I look up at him. "Yes." I say. "In the tunnel." It's a long break between stops. I just hope it'll be long enough.

This time, he grins. "I'm Tate." He holds out a hand. I take it lightly, shaking. The door hisses open.

"Cindy."

"And I don't think we should wait." He smiles.

Neither do I. I lick my lips, glancing past him as the door closes and we leave yet another station with no new passengers. Darkness is soon rushing past the window once more.

"Okay." I whisper. The next stop is close to the last one, and it's the last really big one before the tunnel. If anyone'll get on, it'll be there. "If the next stop is empty."

"If the next stop is empty." The train is already slowing again, with a familiar click, click, click. The doors open to a bright terminal, normal busy and bustling. I can't tear my eyes from his, but we both know. It's vacant now. The doors hiss closed. We're still alone.

"Well, Cindy," He comes up beside me, gently pulling my knees toward the aisle. I turn in my seat and he deftly untangles my panties from my shoes, tossing the tiny cloth down the train car. With a glance, I can see it laying in empty space in front of the doors, the pink painfully obvious against the black non-skid. I lick my lips, biting them as he spreads my legs, baring my wet, hungry slit, already aching for his touch. "It's wonderful to finally say hello."

His face presses in-between my thighs, his tongue is gentle and tantalizingly slow as its tip traces along my already wet lips. I let out a soft sigh, and my mind flashes back to Sierra.

Ted was about to burst as he pulled out of her mouth. She knew that was his signal, so her hands pumped hastily at the cock in front of her, dropping out of Ethan's grasp as she fell to her knees in front of her man, Ethan's still-throbbing cock slipping out of her tight slit.

Tate's tongue works ever deeper into me, tracing every fold of my aching pussy lips as I will him to dive harder, faster, deeper into me, and I can picture Sierra on her knees, naked in the forest, almost giggling as Ted shot onto her face. She turned to Ethan's cock, shining with her juices, her mouth closing around it. He was about to burst, too.

"Holy fuck!" Someone said. Was that what they said? Someone behind Ted? When they got caught?

That wasn't how it happened.

"Feel free to tell me to stop, if you like." Ethan said that? No, Tate. Tate just said that, right now. I open my eyes. Two faces are peering over me as I lay back on the seat. Neither of them is Tate.

"Oh god..." I barely manage to speak as Tate's tongue continues to press in and out of my tight pussy. I try to jump up, but Tate holds me in place, and I hastily try to tug my skirt and jacket down over his head, as if I could possibly cover up. I mutter again, "Oh god...", but not of surprise this time as Tate's pace quickens, as if mocking my modesty.

"Hey, cutie, you should suck my cock while he does that." It's one of the guys above me, but all I can see is Sierra. She had had Ethan in her mouth when they'd gotten caught, and pulled off him to smile at the onlookers. One hand was waving, and the other was stroking Ethan. He finished across her face right then, globs of goo covering her big, friendly grin while complete strangers watched her pump him dry.

"Shut the fuck up, Jose," The other newcomer spoke up in my reality.

But now I can barely notice anything except the fact that Tate is between my legs. He slips a finger into me, tugging his head out of my skirt as he presses it deeper and deeper into me with each thrust, quickly picking up the pace.

"Sorry, Cindy, but that last stop, well, that one wasn't empty." Tate's smirk shines with my juices. I didn't even notice we'd stopped. "What do you say to our friend here, though? Maybe if the next stop is?"

I didn't even know where we were, but even as striken with terror as I was, I couldn't keep my eyes wide enough to look anything but, well, literally ecstatic.

"Well?" Two fingers suddenly join the other and I jump, gasping a sharp, shuddering breath in. I can see Sierra's smile.