Exhibitionism | Voyeurism | Cheating
The distractable Mr. Smith, and the delectable Mrs. Jones — 2
Chapter 2: Now You See Me
Lottie touched her card to the reader and made her way through the barriers. She hesitated at the top of the staircase, turning to look over her shoulder in hope rather than expectation that Pete was still there, longingly staring after her, already missing her.
She was not disappointed.
From across the open ticket hall, she could see him loitering by the barriers, hoping to catch one last glimpse of her face before they left each other and went back to their real lives. She smiled at him and waved, not a big expansive wave, more a subtle only see it if you’re looking kind of wave. Pete was looking, so he did see. He responded in kind, the overhead light catching the strap of his watch on his left wrist as he first waved, and then blew her a kiss. Lottie giggled, waved with a little more vigour, and then turned, with butterflies in her stomach, to float down the stairs on a cloud of heady teenage giddiness.
As she stood on the platform waiting for the train, Lottie tried to make sense of how the evening had unfolded. She knew she liked Pete, or Cooper as he had been before they met. She knew she found him kind, funny, warm and caring. His boyish enthusiasm for just about anything and seemingly insatiable desire for any kind of intimacy with her had already swept her off her feet, but meeting him for real had changed everything. She hadn’t expected him to be so handsome, for starters. Or for him to gaze at her with a look that was simultaneously filled with instinctive, primal lust, but somehow also made her feel safe, as if he would do anything for her. Anything at all.
He made her feel special. Wanted. Desired.
She had wanted him, too. She had wanted him so much.
But real life had to get in the way.
As her train pulled into the station, Lottie let out a long sigh. She pressed the glowing yellow button and stood back as the doors hissed open, and a group of teenagers fell laughing on to the platform, not even registering the middle aged woman standing less than two feet away from them whose world had just been turned completely upside down.
Lottie stepped into the half empty carriage, and sunk into a seat as far from another human as possible. Whether it was Pete or whether it was the whisky, her heart had been on fire. But now, with her head resting on the cold glass of the window, the effects of the alcohol were beginning to wear off and the seeds of anger sown in her mind were starting to bloom. The calls from her husband had rudely slashed through her real life fantasy moment, the tears in the script matched only by the tears on her cheeks.
Her mind began to wander; she let herself believe her husband had pushed her to this. Who was to blame when a certain restlessness was growing inside her? She had started to let the little things bug her, allowing molehills to become mountains. The half finished jobs, the general laziness with the household drudgery, the weaponised incompetence. She couldn’t deny he was a good dad, but good god he was a crappy husband.
When was the last time he brought her flowers?
Then there was the time he came home smelling of another woman.
Lottie had challenged him, and he had denied everything. But she knew him, she fucking knew when he was lying to her. He made up some story about a colleague who accidentally sprayed him with perfume, and that’s why he smelt like another woman. Lottie was too shocked to point out she wasn’t even talking about the smell of the perfume.
She was talking about the scent of another woman on his breath.
The taste, on his lips.
At first she had been shocked and hurt, but soon that feeling turned to white hot anger. She hated him, she wanted to scream at him, drag the truth from his sullied lips, but he would never admit it, would never allow her to unleash her rage. He never wavered from his stance of innocence, so steadfast was his insistence that she even started to doubt her own senses, her own intuition.
In her more reflective moments, the cheating itself she could perhaps understand, maybe even in time forgive; life was busy, and their sex life had undoubtedly suffered. But what she couldn’t handle, what kept her awake at night and gnawed at her insides, was his unrepentant denial, and all the lies that this entailed. That dark secret that he kept locked away inside him.
Did the promises he made her mean so little to him? Had he even thought about what something like that would do to their relationship? To their family?
What could she have done differently? Would it even have made any difference?
She had hated him for it, but over time her anger cooled, replaced by cold indifference. Nothing could change the past, but as much as she tried to push it out of her mind, one thought wouldn’t leave her alone; if he could do that, why shouldn’t she?
That was what led her online. Led her to Pete. She told herself she hadn’t been looking for anything, or anyone, nothing more than some harmless flirting to make her feel good. She convinced herself she never meant to let things get this far, but as soon as she met him, it became apparent there was a big hole in her life that Pete somehow filled. He gave her everything she felt she was missing.
As if on cue, her phone buzzed in her hand, at once both reminding her to switch off the notifications she had turned on for this evening, and reinforcing her belief that Pete could just sense when she needed him, sense what she needed.
Lottie read his message and smiled, the icy anger at the consequences of her older life choices melting as she buried herself in the warmth of her more recent decisions. Pete always seemed to know what to say, and how to say it. He flooded her inbox with compliments, and she let his words wash over her.
Before too long the shrill beep of the train’s tannoy system announced the next stop, pulling her from the cocoon of their exchange. As the assorted dark herringbone coats and woollen scarves alighted from the train, she realised that as usual, almost everyone in the carriage had got off, leaving just her and a few other stragglers continuing their onward journeys.
Fresh memories of the evening rolled around Lottie’s mind. She closed her eyes and thought of how his lips felt pressed to hers, how his cold fingertips had felt on her skin. She let out an involuntary gasp as she remembered how his thick cock felt in her hand, through his jeans. She had shocked herself at her willingness to drop to her knees, but in that moment, all she had wanted was to take him in her mouth.
Fuck, she thought to herself. She wanted him so badly. She could feel the warmth growing between her legs again.
Lottie knew she was not satisfied.
She couldn’t let the night end like this.
Glancing around the carriage, Lottie could see one man standing by the doors. Another sitting close to the standing man, facing away from her.
She wanted to try something. To push her boundaries.
Lottie dropped her phone on the seat, and used both her hands to undo one button on her blouse. She picked up the phone, and pointed the camera at her chest. It wasn’t enough. She wanted to give him more, so this time using just one hand, she undid another button. Then another. Squeezing her breasts together with her upper arms formed a deep and welcoming cleavage, something she knew Pete would like.
She took a photo. She felt so naughty taking a picture like that in public.
Send.
Within seconds a flurry of emojis flashed across her screen, and less than a minute later, a picture. Lottie opened the message, and saw the outline of Pete’s hard cock in his jeans. She could see from the material on the seat, he was still on the train.
He was willing to take the same risks for her, as she was for him.
Fuck that was hot.
Lottie bit her lip. How far was she willing to take this?
The shrill beep of the train door signalled another station. Lottie could see that both the man who had been standing, and the man who had been sitting, had left the train. Now alone in the carriage, Lottie unbuttoned her blouse far enough to expose her bra. She had worn her new lingerie that her husband hadn’t noticed and Pete hadn’t even got to see, and didn’t want it to go to waste.She had chosen it especially. Black, with thin straps and lacy cups, her nipple ever so slightly visible through the patterned lace,
Growing braver, she took another picture. Although the lighting wasn’t great on the train, she still knew the bra looked pretty, and her breasts looked damn good.
She could see from Pete’s response that he approved. A video appeared in her inbox, and she immediately hit play. It was Pete’s left hand, stroking his cock through his jeans. Fuck that’s hot, thought Lottie.
She replied.
Take it out.
Send.
Lottie could see Pete was typing.
Typing.
Typing.
Still typing.
Fuck, had she taken it too far? Asking him to get his cock out for her in public? Lottie held her breath. An image appeared in the chat. She clicked on it, and there it was. His beautiful cock, fully out on the train, his hand wrapped around the thick shaft.
Goddammit she wanted that thing inside her. Lottie could feel a warmth growing between her legs, a craving burning deep inside her.
He was still typing. The message appeared.
Your turn.
Lottie bit her lip. What should she send? As if reading her mind again, Pete gave her the answer.
I want to see your boobs. Train boobs.
Lottie stifled a giggle; how could he ask her to expose herself on public transport and make her laugh in the same message?! She looked around again, to confirm she was alone.
Emboldened by what Pete had sent her and not wanting to disappoint him, Lottie opened her blouse down to her waist. She could feel her nipples, hard against her fingertips as she slipped her hand inside the lacey cup.
She allowed the thin black straps to slip down her shoulders, took a deep breath, pushed the bra down and exposed herself. Holding the phone and pointing the camera at her chest, Lottie pressed record. With her other hand she cupped her breast and rubbed a finger over her nipple, the phone’s microphone picking up the gasp that escaped her lips.
Lottie couldn’t believe she was filming herself in public.
It felt so good. She felt so naughty.
So alive. There was an energy fizzing through her whole body, unlike anything she had ever felt before.
Send.
She waited. She hoped he liked it. Hoped it was what he wanted. She subconsciously pulled her blouse across her chest, as she waited for his reply.
Two words flashed up on her screen that gave her all the confirmation she needed.
Good girl.
Fuck.
It was as if the words were directly connected to her pussy. If she was wet before, Lottie was now dripping. She could feel her cheeks burning red and was swallowed up by the uncontrollable urge to touch herself, driven by a yearning deep inside her.
She wanted to see him.
The video call icon was right there. On her phone, right there in front of her. All she had to do was press it and he’d be there, his face on her screen.
Can I call?
Send.
Instant answer. Yes.
Squeezing her thighs together she hit the button.
Held her breath.
He answered, his face filling her screen, fingers pressed to his lips. Lottie nodded, understanding the need for quiet but she couldn’t hide an audible gasp as he tilted his screen down to show his hand had left his lips, and was now wrapped around his fully erect cock.
Shifting in her seat and making sure once again that she was truly alone in the carriage, Lottie allowed her blouse to fall open again, the silky material soft against her sensitive nipples. Inspired by Pete’s brazen public stroking, she held her phone in her right hand, and with her left hand cupped her breast, allowing her thumb to rub over nipple. She squeezed a little more firmly, and trapped her nipple between her fingers, hard enough to cause her to bite her lip. Over the rhythmic sound of the train speeding the nighttime countryside, she thought she could hear Pete purring his approval.
Growing braver by the second, Lottie tried to remember how Pete’s hands had felt on her before the unwanted intrusion of reality. How his hands had pawed urgently at her clothes, how desperate he was to touch her.
Fuck she wanted to be touched.
Her breasts felt so good, and the sensation of hands, even her own, on her skin was driving Lottie crazy. An insatiable feeling was rising inside her, burning an ever brighter fire in her soul, and she knew she had to give herself what she wanted. What Pete craved.
Leaning back in her seat, Lottie eased her skirt up her thighs, her fingertips tracing the top of her sheer black stockings, the worn train seat edge rough against the backs of her legs. Her skirt rode high enough to expose the especially chosen black French knickers, and the feeling of her freshly manicured scarlet red nails scratching the soft pale skin on her inner thigh only increased the feeling of recklessness.
She pressed on the warmth between her legs, sending a shiver up and down her spine. Fuck that felt so good. Her mouth was dry and her heart was thumping, and now there was no turning back.
As good as her own touch felt, Lottie absolutely couldn’t take her eyes off the screen. She was hypnotised by Pete’s hand working up and down his cock, eyes glued to how his swollen tip seemed to grow and pulse every time he ran his hand down his shaft in a slow, yet firm motion.
Fuck, she could almost taste him.
Thoughts of her husband briefly flashed like fire across her mind, the tiny stab of guilt soon overwhelmed with wanton lust driven by a sense of revenge. Eyes still fixed on Pete’s cock, she continued to rub her clit through her soaking knickers. Easing her legs open and tilting her screen so he could see what she was doing, she saw Pete immediately stroke faster and harder.
He was so fucking exposed. Vulnerable for her. She wanted to do the same. Before she had a chance to think twice, Lottie pulled down the tray table, and using her handbag, propped her phone up at just the right angle. She put her foot up against the back of the chair in front, her immaculate matching red toenails vivid against the chipped cream seat back.
She swallowed hard and pulled her knickers to one side, exposing her neatly trimmed pussy.
Pete’s hand became a blur as he jerked his rock hard cock faster still. Lottie paused, enjoying the sensation of the air on her pussy, admiring how pretty it looked on the screen, and how fucking hot it was to see herself exposed, next to his cock.
Using one hand to hold her knickers to the side, she let her fingers on the other slide up and down her lips, teasing herself only momentarily, before pushing a finger deep inside herself.
Fuck that felt so good.
So good.
She pushed a second finger inside, and felt her eyes roll back into her head.
Her whole body was on fire. Her own touch had never felt so good.
Focusing her attention on her clit, Lottie pressed hard, rubbing in small, intense circles, every pulse of her finger on her sensitive button sending waves of pleasure searing through her entire being.
Her head was spinning with thoughts of Pete’s hands on her naked body, of how his eyes would savour every inch of her, how his lips would devour her skin, how he would bunch her hair in his fist and pull her head back, his breath hot on her exposed neck.
She imagined how his body would feel pressed close to hers, how his kisses would become more urgent, how his breathing would become more rapid as he relinquished all control to her.
Fighting the urge to moan but breathing heavily, Lottie knew she couldn’t hold back anymore.
She threw her head back against the seat and bit her lip hard, desperately trying to stay quiet as the first waves of orgasm coursed through her whole body. She could barely hold her phone as her arms, legs, hands started shaking with the intensity of her very public orgasms.
Pete responded in kind and Lottie nearly screamed out as his cock exploded, thick ropes of cum erupting from his cock and splattering his shirt.
Watching him cum for her sent her off again. Her fingers plunged back into her pussy, her sensitive clit needing barely a touch to push her over the edge again. This time she couldn’t stop the moans and she came again, and again.
Body shaking and breathing hard, she slumped back into her seat, the ecstasy of the moment still washing over her in waves. On her screen, she could see Pete’s face, his grin stretching right across his handsome face. Still lost for words, she just grinned dumbly back at him, before the shrill beep of the train announcement indicating that hers was the next stop pulled her rudely from the post-orgasm afterglow. Lottie whispered that she had to go, and Pete nodded his understanding. She blew him a kiss and reluctantly ended the call.
Out the window, the pitch dark of the unlit fields quickly gave way to the orange hue of suburbia, dragging her from fantasy back to reality. Lottie pushed her boobs back inside her bra, buttoned up her blouse, and pulled her skirt down to her knees. Smoothed out the creases.
In about 45 seconds the train would pull into the station. She would have to climb the steps, touch through the barriers, and spot her husband’s car. She’d have to climb into the seat next to him, let him kiss her on the cheek, accept his apologies, tell him it was ok that he had called and disturbed her supposed girls night out.
She’d have to pretend she hadn’t just made herself cum.
On video call.
On a train.
With a man who wasn’t him.
As the train came to a stop at her station, Lottie sent Pete a final goodnight message. Plenty of kisses, and a promise to talk to him tomorrow. He replied almost immediately as she knew he would. Legs still a little wobbly, the steps at the station seemed steeper than usual. As she climbed, Lottie couldn’t get the thought of Pete’s cock on her phone screen out of her head. The way his whole body seemed to twitch and jerk as he came all over himself, in public, just for her.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so turned on.
She wanted to bottle that feeling and keep it forever. The way he made her feel. But now, as she reached the top of the staircase, real life beckoned. Lottie moved through the ticket barrier and spotted her husband’s face peering sheepishly out of the window of the car. She switched off her phone, pulled her coat tight against the winter wind, and reluctantly made her way back to her life.
Back to reality.
