1. Keeping To A Schedule


    Date: 10/30/2017, Categories: Voyeur, Author: Porgy87, Rating: 7, Source: LushStories

    down from the Bronx. Now that I was benefiting from it, I thought I should acknowledge my friend’s behavior, assuming it was intentional. On one Tuesday morning the train was delayed just after leaving 242nd Street; apparently the 8:52 train before us had a mechanical problem. We sat for about 10 minutes, during which time the train crew kept us informed of our situation with a series of utterly garbled announcements: “THA GRAPPA HANNA SOO WILL BE KERO KERA BLACK! HARPELS GUNG FRESS TO BRAKKA!” When we started up again, we were quite obviously only a minute or two behind the earlier train, as there were very few people getting on at each stop. The delayed train was surely stuffed with passengers, but the platforms were nearly empty when we arrived immediately after. There was no one standing between us. In fact, there was no one standing in the car at all and there were actually empty seats. Since I could see her upper body in addition to her legs, and since she was not reading a newspaper but rather a magazine in her lap, I could look at her face over the top of whatever it was I was reading at the time. It might have been a textbook called “Gravity,” as I think of it now. She sat as she always did, with her knees just far enough apart for me to glimpse her stockings and her thighs, though this morning I could not see the color of her underwear. At one point, as I looked up from my book, she looked up simultaneously and our eyes met. I intended to smile at her, but before ...
    I could even begin to, she looked completely shocked and a bit flustered. She instantly looked down at the magazine in her lap and her brow furrowed. In seconds she looked angry. I was shocked as well. I had never looked directly into her eyes before, and I had certainly never made an overt acknowledgement of her presence during all the time we ridden together. Her angry appearance embarrassed me. I felt my face flush and I knew I was showing the telltale redness that itself worsened my embarrassment. The remainder of that trip to 116th Street was agony for me as I tried to focus on my textbook. When the doors opened at 116 I jumped up and ran for the exit. I have no idea what she did; I avoided looking at her at all. I did, however, keep my appointment to masturbate. I have a routine. My OCD is a convenience at times; it keeps me on schedule, at least. Occasionally my OCD is a trap that I can’t escape from, as it was the next morning when, at 8:58, I settled into “my” seat in the subway car. As my friend walked into the subway car at 9:00 precisely, she apparently kicked a small bit of white paper that was on the floor of the car. Noticing it, she picked it up and for the first time, said something to me as she held it out for me to take: “Did you drop this?” I was so startled that I took it as I said, or rather grunted, “Hm?” She ignored me after that and sat in her customary seat, opening up her New York Times and folding it to the editorial page. I looked at the paper, ...
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