NaMaMo: Day 14


Room with a View. Prompt image courtesy of C!

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We’re halfway through NaMaMo! Whew. Are you tired? I think I am! I feel like the Little Train that Could: I think I can, I think I can!

Today’s optional prompt: Room with a view. Is there one room in particular that’s your pleasure room? In your house or out of it? Or a room that has special meaning for you in terms of masturbation? Is it from the experiences you’ve had there (or are having there)? From the furniture? From the people who spend their time there? From the sexy, sultry view?

So many rooms, so little time…

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About Shanna Germain

Writer. Editor. Game Designer. Leximaven. Geek.
This entry was posted in Dailies, NaMaMo. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to NaMaMo: Day 14

  1. Mat Twassel says:

    Function 9

    Martin rushed through the morning drizzle, barely catching the later train into the city. He’d been up too late fiddling with his PowerPoint presentation, and he’d overslept. This train was more crowded than his usual, the 6:33, but he managed to find an empty seat at the far end of the uppers. Two empty seats, actually, because no one wanted to sit in the backward facing first seat at the end of the car—not only wouldn’t it recline, there was no leg room. Martin set his laptop case on the seat, hung his raincoat over the rail, and got out his monthly pass, which he flashed to the conductor, who had just entered the car below. Martin took his laptop out of the case and set the laptop back on the seat and stored the case in the little storage compartment above the aisle rail. By the time Martin had settled back into his seat, the commuter was already slowing for the next station stop. A moment later, a good-looking girl in a dark raincoat was standing next to him, shaking out her long dark hair and looking pointedly at the seat with Martin’s computer on it.

    “Oh, sorry,” Martin said, removing his laptop from the end seat and setting it on his lap.

    “That’s okay,” the girl said, removing her raincoat and draping it on the rail next to Martin’s. She was wearing a miniskirt. You didn’t see that too often these days. She had nice slim legs. Her attractive bottom was inches from Martin’s face. When the girl turned, Martin was staring straight into her groin. He looked up at her, almost blushing.

    “Can I ask you a huge favor?” she said. She had a pretty smile. Pretty eyes. And that long. dark, almost dripping hair.

    “Um, sure,” Martin said.

    “Do you mind if we switch seats. Riding backwards makes me really dizzy.”

    “Um, sure,” Martin said, already beginning to stand. He swiveled and sat in the backwards facing seat, and the girl eased herself into the seat Martin had just vacated. “Thanks, awfully,” she said, smiling gaily at him. “It wouldn’t do if I threw up on you.”

    Martin couldn’t help but smile back at her. He opened his laptop and pressed the power on button.

    “Cozy in here, isn’t it?” the girl said. “Almost like our own private compartment.” Just then her cell phone buzzed, and she fetched it out of her purse. “Hey, sweetie,” she said. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah. Yeah, this nice gentleman offered me his seat. Yeah, a nice gentleman. Yeah, ha ha, a nice seat. No, not too wet. Ha ha, you’re so naughty—not nearly as wet as you made me last night. Right—hold that thought.”

    The girl put her phone away and Martin moved his eyes to the screen of his computer, which was slow to boot up. He scowled.

    “Something wrong?” the girl asked.

    “I don’t know,” Martin said. “It says something about the webcam application not working. I don’t think my laptop likes trains.”

    “I know what you mean,” the girl said. “Sometimes it like they’ve got a mind of their own.”

    “Like the cursor jitters all over the place.”

    The girl nodded. Brushed some hair away from her eyes. “I usually do F9,” she said.

    “F9?” Martin asked.

    “Function nine. It locks the touchpad. At least on mine.”

    “Hm, I’ll have to try that,” Martin said. “Thanks.”

    “Don’t mention it,” the girl said. “But you could do me one other huge favor.”

    “Sure.”

    “Are you going all the way in? See, I get out at Western, the stop before downtown, and my boyfriend kept me up really late last night, so if I should drift off, could you be sure to wake me in time?” She was looking at him with those big brown eyes and that pretty smile.

    “Uh, sure,” he said. “No problem.”

    “Thanks,” she said, her eyes already flickering shut.

    Martin couldn’t concentrate on his presentation. He tapped back and forth through the screens. The cursor skidded under his finger. He glanced out the window. Rainy gray morning rushing by. He could see the reflection of the girl. The rise and fall of her breasts beneath her blouse. He couldn’t help but imagine her and her boyfriend. She was riding him, her breasts bare and beautiful, rising and falling to the rhythmic jounce and bounce of the…

    Martin closed his eyes, trying to clear the vision, but it only intensified, and he could feel the pressure of his burgeoning erection against the bottom of the laptop. He snapped his eyes open. The girl was apparently asleep. Her lips were parted. Her breasts lifting and falling. Martin squirmed in his seat, trying to adjust himself. His knee brushed the girl’s knee. She let her legs slip apart. Now her legs were on either side of Martin’s. Her eyes remained closed. Her legs lifted. Her feet pressed against Martin’s seat on either side of his hips. He leaned forward, peering over the laptop screen. The girl’s miniskirt was rucked back. He could see all the way up. He could see the white crescent of her panties. He could make out the press and fold of her crease beneath the cotton. He had the horrible feeling her eyes were open, that she was watching him, and he didn’t dare lift his eyes; he just stared harder into her center, imagining he could see the small bump of her clitoris. His forefinger touched the touchpad of the computer. He made small circles, as if circling her clit, and he was sure he saw it twitch. He was sure he could perceive her sex lips swelling, opening. He tapped the touchpad, tap, tap, tap, and watched the circle of wet spot darken her panties while her clitoris twitched in time to the throb of his cock. Tap, tap, tap, he went, tap, tap, tap, as he train jounced and bounced its way into the city, and he was sure she was coming, her cunt clenching deliciously, deliriously, and he came with her, jolting his laptop, filling his underwear with warm cream. “Union Station, don’t forget your monthly tickets,” announced the conductor.

    “Oh, fuck,” the girl whispered, rising abruptly, almost knocking the laptop from Martin’s lap. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were supposed to… fuck!”

    “I’m sorry,” Martin said. “I… I…”

    The girl had already grabbed her raincoat from the rail and was hurrying down the aisle to where the passengers were lined up at the stairs, waiting to deboard.

    Martin stayed in his seat. He kept his eyes on the girl, but she didn’t look back. Eventually the line moved. The girl went down the stairs and presumably out onto the platform. Martin remained in his seat for another minute. And another. He closed his laptop lid without powering the machine off. At last he got to his feet. He could feel the stickiness in his underwear. He set the laptop on the seat where the girl had been sitting, and struggled into his raincoat. He put the laptop into its case, and slowly he made his way down the aisle, down the stairs, out the railroad car and onto the platform. The platform was not quite clear—some stragglers were still making their way toward the station—but the girl was gone.

    As Martin stepped into the main station, he thought, I could have offered to pay for a cab. I should have. He thought maybe he should take a cab himself, but with the rain there would be a wait, and maybe the girl was waiting for a cab, or maybe she was waiting for the next outbound train to take her to Western. I should see, he thought. If she’s on the outbound platform, I could offer to get her a cab.

    These thoughts continued to spin through Martin’s mind as he hurried along the streets, avoiding most of the puddles. It was only six blocks to the office. He thought about visiting the restroom to remove his underwear, but there really wasn’t time, not even time enough to grab a cup of coffee. The board was already in he conference room, waiting.

    Martin plugged in his computer, connected it to the display unit, opened the lid, and pressed the button to bring it out of hibernation. The laptop stayed blank for a long time. Worried, and unsure what to do, Martin touched a key. Nothing happened. Martin touched another key.

    “Maybe it’s locked,” someone said.

    Martin remembered the girl from the train, and he pressed F9. The screen flickered and started to come up. Martin sighed in relief.

    “Good morning, gentleman and ladies,” he said. “Today we’re going to…”

    Martin turned to the big screen. Instead of his title page, there was an image of the girl from the train. Of her panties, and beneath them her clearly erect clitoris and puffy sex lips opening, her cunt clenching, her wet spot spreading, her voice repeating, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” through the contractions of her orgasm.

    Martin tried to switch it off, but no matter which key he touched, the display continued, the girl in endless orgasm, even after Martin had closed the lid and yanked the plug.

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