Solo/fingers
                                  Solo Polyphony 
                           Let your Fingers Do the Riding
              Third of the "Deb's Tails" series.  There are more in the works; Deb has
             told me several others, I just need to find the time to write them down. 
             This was last posted only a couple of weeks ago.  Please don't flame me, I
             got a couple of requests for it, and since I was reposting the others, it
               was just as easy to repost this one as to mail it to those who asked.
                    My wife, Deborah, often tells me "bedtime stories" of her sexual
             adventures.  Some of them I know are true, either because I was there, or
                because she has corroborative evidence.  Some of them, I'm sure, are
                            fictional.  Others, I'm just not sure about.
                  I don't know about the truth of this one.  It sounds like the kind of
             thing she'd do if she were in the right mood, but since I wasn't there, I
                                        can't vouch for it.
                 If you've ever heard anything about the New York subways, you probably
             think you know what they're like.  Noisy, obnoxious, and crowded.  Most of
             the time that's true, but as any New Yorker will tell you -- once you get
             past his pride in living in the least livable city in the country -- that
                some trains can be practically empty if you pick the right times and
               routes.  Many evenings, around 10 or 11, even the busiest routes start
               emptying out, and by midnight it's sometimes possible to have a car to
                                             yourself.
                  In all fairness to New York, though, it does have it's good points. 
            The Circle Line is one of them.  It's a mini-cruise around Manhattan (it is
              an island, you know!)  Any place that's got a decent-sized body of water
             has something similar.  Seattle has trips around Puget Sound, New Orleans
             has riverboats running along the river.  The Circle Line cruise is really
             beautiful at night with the city all lit up, but in the middle of winter,
                        you can -- and probably will -- freeze your ass off.
                  Deb and I often have separate social lives -- an inevitable reaction
              to work-related gatherings where people sit around and talk shop.  What
                usually happened in New York was that I'd stay home and play with my
             techie-toys while she was out partying with her colleagues, or she'd stay
              home with a book while I was out cheering for the Mets.  Naturally, that
             meant a few solo subway rides for both of us, often at somewhat odd hours.
                  This is the story of one of those trip as Deb told it to me (albeit,
                                          with my title).
                                              Let Your Fingers Do the Riding
                  I never did tell you about the aftermath of that party last month did
             I?  The one that ended up in a ride on the Circle Line?  Yeah, that's the
            one, when I didn't get home until around two.  I was so pissed at you about
             that.  Going to bed before I got home wasn't nice.  I'd been hoping you'd
               still be up so I could fuck your brains out, and there you were, sound
               asleep in bed with MST3K blaring away on the TV.  Why was I so horny? 
                             That's what I was going to tell you about.
                  When the boat got back to the dock, we were pretty much partied out,
              and I, at least, was frozen stiff.  We all went our separate ways, which
             for Gary and me meant heading straight for the uptown number 1 train.  It
             turned out that he was frozen too, so once the train showed up we decided
             to try a little hypothermia treatment.  We had one of the sideways sets of
            seats next to the car door to ourselves -- in fact we damn near had the car
             to ourselves.  He sat down right next to the barrier between the seats and
             the door, and I sat in his lap, with his coat buttoned around both of us.
                   Once I started to warm up a bit, I realized that Gary's lap was not
             the most comfortable place I'd ever sat -- somehow you never realize just
               how bony someone's legs are until you sit on them -- and I started to
             squirm around, trying to find a position that didn't include a bone poking
             me.  Not surprisingly, this had something of an effect on him.  I suppose
             you could say that I warmed him up a bit.  The net result, though, was to
                 make his lap even worse as a chair.  If he wasn't poking me, I was
              squashing him, and all-in-all, I think we were both a bit relieved that
              Gary had to get off the train at Times Square and head for the E out to
                                              Queens.
                    Losing my butt-warmer did have a few advantages besides easing my
              seat.  Most notably, I could sit sideways on the seats, lean my back up
             against the barrier, and try to make my knees a little more comfortable by
             straightening them out in front of me.  On the other hand, I did miss the
             warmth he had been providing, so I did what any normal person would do: I
            pulled my arms out of the sleeves of my jacket and hugged myself inside it. 
             By 50th Street I was warm enough to realize how frustrated I had been with
             a hard cock against my ass and no time or opportunity to do anything about
                                                it.
                    Without even thinking about it, I reached down, slipping my hand
               inside the waistband of my skirt, and began to rub my pussy through my
              panties.  I was already wet, and after just a moment or so of rubbing, I
             knew that wasn't going to be enough.  I was about to slip my hand into my
              panties, figuring to get a finger or two into my pussy, when I realized
            where I was.  I took a quick look around, and was a little surprised to see
             that there was only one other person in the car: a guy sitting all the way
             down at the far end, his nose buried in a book.  I only hesitated a second
              before I lifted my butt and slipped my panties off.  I had my arms back
             into the sleeves of my jacket, my feet on the floor, and my panties in my
                      jacket pocket seconds before the train stopped at 59th.
                    As soon as the doors closed, I turned sideways in the seat again,
              putting my back towards the guy at the other end of the car, lifted the
               front of my skirt to my waist, and buried a finger in my pussy.  Ahhh,
            heaven.  My eyes closed involuntarily as I began to slide the finger in and
            out, rubbing the palm of my hand across my clit.

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  I was rapidly approaching
              orgasm, when something made me open my eyes.  A man was standing in the
             aisle about ten feet away, his eyes riveted on my crotch, the bulge in his
                   pants clearly showing just what he thought of my little show.
                 I froze, my on-coming cum evaporating.  Not that I have any objections
                   to showing off, quite the contrary, in fact.  It was just the
             unexpectedness of it; thinking I was alone, and then discovering I had an
              audience.  Seeing that I had stopped, he looked up from my pussy and our
            eyes met.  Neither of us even breathed for several seconds, until, finally,
                                       he broke the silence.
                  "Sorry to disturb you," he said, in the most incredibly gentle voice
             I've ever heard.  He sounded for all the world just like someone trying to
             lure a strange kitten into coming over to be patted.  "I saw what you were
            doing from the next car, and I just couldn't resist coming over to this one
                                        for a better look."
                    What can you do when you're faced with a gentlemanly apology like
             that?  Especially in New York!  I did the ladylike thing.  "Why don't you
              have a seat?" I said, pointing to the seat beyond my feet.  Since I was
             sitting sideways, that seat was maybe five feet from my head, no more than
             two feet beyond the tips of my toes, directly in line with my pussy; sort
             of the pornographic equivalent of first row seats right behind the goal at
              a hockey game.  "Perhaps you'd like to open your pants and do likewise?"
                        "Thanks.  I think I will," he said, with a sudden smile.
                   The train was pulling out of the 79th Street station as he settled
             himself in the seat and opened his fly.  He winced a couple of times as he
                worked his rock-solid cock out of the opening.  They aren't the most
               maneuverable things, are they?  Especially when you've got those silly
                                       jockeys to deal with.
                     "Very nice," I told him, quite honestly, when he had it out and
             comfortably nestled in his hand.  As he began to stroke it up and down, I
               resumed finger-fucking myself, thinking how silly I must have looked,
            carrying on a conversation on the subway, with a complete stranger, all the
            while with a finger deep in my pussy.  After a minute or two, I switched to
             a masturbation style better suited to showing off, spreading my pussy lips
               open with my left hand, and rubbing my clit with the fingertips of my
                                               right.
                    "Yours is very nice too," he said, his hand moving faster on his
            shaft.  "You don't suppose we could..."  His voice trailed off, as he tried
              to think of a good way to suggest that we stop fooling around with this
                               masturbation stuff, and start fucking.
                 I hesitated for a moment, wanting a cock inside me, and tempted by the
              drop of pre-cum that was just beginning to run down the underside of his
              cock head.  "Probably not a good idea," I finally replied, regretfully.
                  He shook his head sadly.  "Damn.  I'd love to sink my dick into that
             hot cunt of yours."  His hand moved faster and faster (and so did mine!),
             and his breathing got rougher and more ragged.  "Hot and wet," he moaned. 
                           "Shit, I'd love to eat you, you look so good!"
                   I closed my eyes again for a moment, imagining my fingers were his
              tongue, sliding back and forth over my clit, and then that they were his
            cock, as I plunged my index and middle fingers as far into my pussy as they
                    could go, and then began to finger-fuck myself frantically.
                  My eyes flew open as I heard him cry "Oh, shit, YES!".  I was just in
            time to see the first spray of his cum shoot up into the air.  I watched it
            rise and fall in a perfect parabola, seeming as if it were in slow motion. 
              As it reached the peak of its arc, I knew what was going to happen, and
             happen it did.  His load came down directly on my lower leg, splashing hot
             and wet, and then running down to my ankle and onto the seat.  The feel of
            his cum was the final straw for me, and I cried out as my own orgasm washed
                                              over me.
                   I began to come down from my peak just as the train started to slow
            for the next station.  "All that between 79th and 86th?" I thought, just as
             the conductor announced "Hunnerd 'n' Tenth Street.  Next stop Hunnerd 'n'
                  Sixteenth."  We had made four stops, and I hadn't even noticed!
                   "Hundred and Tenth!" my partner exclaimed.  "Oh, shit!  My stop was
              96th!"  Simultaneously, he leaped to his feet, stuffed his cock -- still
               dripping with cuminto his pants, threw a quick "Thanks a lot,
               Lady" over his shoulder to me, and leaped out the door just before it
                                              closed.
                  I waved to him out the window as the train started up again, and then
            started thinking about how much fun I was going to have with you when I got
            home.  One more stop, a couple of blocks walk, and then I was going to tell
                           you the whole story, and then fuck you silly.
                  I nearly froze my pussy walking home from the subway stop, because I
            was in too much of a hurry even to put my panties on; I didn't want to have
            to waste time taking them off when I got home.  I gave the doorman one hell
              of a show when I slipped and fell on the wet marble in the lobby, nearly
            killed myself when I slipped again getting out of the elevator, got inside,
                            and then discovered you were asleep!  Fink!!
            ===========================================================================
                 Deb and I hope you've enjoyed reading this story as much as we enjoyed
              writing it -- not to mention doing the research!  If you have questions,
                              kudos, or complaints, I can be reached:
                          1) as Solo Polyphony on Windy City BBS (708-564-1754), or
                                    2) via Internet at solo-p@holonet.net
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