From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Debbie And The Bike Messenger (FM, size, cons)
Date: 19 Jul 1996 14:18:32 GMT

		    Debbie And The Bike Messenger

	It is hard to believe that so much heat can build up in the
tunnels of the subway during the summers in New York. You'd think
that, being underground, they'd stay cooler than the temperature on
the streets, but it is exactly the opposite. As I stood at the South
Ferry station waiting for a train back uptown, I was glad that I'd
taken Stephie's advice and worn as little as possible. Even so, the
white and blue plaid sundress that I'd worn was sticking to my sweaty
skin in all sorts of embarrassing places. Thank goodness I was alone.
With any luck, the next train would have air conditioning that worked.

	After a good twenty minute wait, a train finally pulled in,
one of the older red ones, but it had been re-fitted with something
remotely akin to air conditioning. As I stepped through the open
doors, I felt air moving, and it seemed to be a little cooler than the
air in the station. I sat on a hard, grey bench made of some composite
or other, and instantly regretted it. The sweat on my thighs made them
stick to the seat, and caused the back of my dress to plaster itself
to me. The doors closed, and as we moved out of the station through an
excruciatingly screechy bit of curved track I gave comfort up for
lost. With any luck I'd be back at Stephie's Upper West Side
apartment soon, drinking cold gin and tonic.

	I had taken the morning to visit the Statue of Liberty.
Stephie had said it would be easier to get to the top if I went early,
so I fought the morning crowds on the subway to get there in time to
catch the second ferry out. She was right. There was hardly any line
at all, so I was able to walk right up to the statue and up the
zillion stairs that took me to a disappointingly tiny window in the
the crown. Looking back across the bay was worth the effort, though.
It was thrilling to see all the gleaming glass and steel that adorn
the southern end of Manhattan.

	I had taken the next available ferry back, then spent some
time wandering around Battery Park before heading back to the subway
station. It was nearly noon as I came to the station, and I was
amazed to see so few people there in the middle of the day. In
retrospect, it seems quite reasonable that there would be few riders
down in that section of town once the business day had started, but it
seemed very peculiar to have so much of the train to myself. I began
to worry a little about muggers, as there were no police visible in
any of the stations either, as we proceeded North.

	At the third or fourth station, however, another rider entered
my car. He was a young man, probably no more than 18, with long, dark
blonde hair. He was a bicycle messenger. He brought aboard a beat-up
ten speed that he tossed around like a toy. Either he was much
stronger than his small upper body appeared to be, or the bike was
very light. He turned away to steady his bike against an upright
chromium pole, and I took the opportunity to admire his muscular buns.
His biking shorts fit tightly, displaying each twitch of lean muscle.
I had only begun to check out his equally strong thighs as he turned
back around and I had to turn my gaze elsewhere.

	He leaned back against one of the doors, over which there was
a sign saying, "Please do not lean on doors." Typical, I thought. Then
he set about fishing through the ill-named "fanny" pack that he had
slung at his waist. (I've never seen anyone wear one on his/her
fanny!) As he fished, I looked, and I thought I saw his prick outlined
against the material of his shorts. But, no, it couldn't be that. It
seemed to hang halfway down the inside of his right thigh. I realized
after a moment that I was staring, and that he had seen me. I glanced
up at his face before looking away. He wore a knowing smile that told
me he'd grown accustomed to being admired.

	I continued to study the bits of gum on the floor as my face
turned several shades of scarlet and he took a seat opposite me in the
car. He sat carelessly, and very intentionally, spreading his legs as
he sat to make his gift fully apparent. I tried hard not to look, but
from time to time, as his gaze wandered up and down the car, I would
sneak a glance. The spandex shorts hid nothing. I was sure that I
could tell he had been circumcised. I felt my body begin to respond as
I allowed my imagination to take flight. I began to salivate at the
thought of taking him into my mouth, and my pussy began to tingle as I
wondered how he'd feel inside me.

	Leaning to one side in the car and turning away from him, I
had almost lost myself in my reveries when the train lurched to a
sudden stop. The lights in the car went off for a moment, leaving me
in deep darkness, then they came back on, but the train did not start
moving again.

	I heard the P.A. system in the train come on, but I had no
more luck deciphering what was said than I'd had trying to hear the
names of the stations. It must have been some sort of explanation, but
I couldn't tell what for sure. I looked to the well-endowed fellow
across the car with a questioning look. He only smiled, shrugged, and
shook his head.

	So, we sat. And we sat some more. Whatever it was that they'd
been trying to pass off for air conditioning had not come back on when
the lights did, so the heat soon became stifling. I fanned myself the
best that I could with some literature that I'd picked up in the park,
but it was useless. Soon, my sundress was soaked through with sweat
except for tiny patches that marked the presence of bikini panties. I
thought I saw my car-mate returning some of my admiring looks.

	Now, I should describe myself to you, I suppose. I am 5'6, and
weigh around 125 pounds, depending on how well I've kept to my diet.
At almost 40, keeping my weight down isn't as easy as it once was, so
I'm not what you'd call thin, least of all by New York standards, but
I think I'm still well proportioned, and I've found that my comfort
with myself sexually makes me attractive to many men. I wear my hair
short, so that it's easy to care for, and with a little help from my
hairdresser, I keep it light blonde. I also spend a fair amount of
time in the sun, so the light hair is set off by the golden brown of
my skin during the warmer months.

	We continued to sit in silence in the car, but our eyes met
more and more often as it became clear that we shared an attraction to
one another. Still, I didn't imagine it would go beyond a pleasant
fantasy. This young man couldn't be half my age. I determined to quit
looking, lest I give him any misleading signals, so I closed my eyes,
resting my head against the wall behind me.

	I heard him stand, and doing something with his bicycle. My
eyes opened suddenly as I heard his voice just above me. "So, you like
what you see?" I looked up to see him standing directly over me,
leaning on the chrome pole to my left. He smiled coolly down at me,
full of adolescent bravado. I continued to look into his calm eyes,
afraid to look anywhere else. My heart pounded in my chest and my
throat felt as though it would close. "So, you like me, don't you?"
he asked again. "You like what you see?"

	His right hand moved to his crotch to make clear what was
already obvious. My eyes followed his hand, lingering on the long lump
of flesh along his inner thigh. I felt as though my heart would jump
right out of my chest. He didn't seem violent, but how could I know?
Looking up I found him still smiling calmly. "Really," he said, "I'm
not gonna hurt you," I began to breathe a little more easily, "I just
thought I saw you looking. It's okay. Lots of people do. I kinda like
it. So, you like what you see?"

	I smiled back at him and nodded. He really was just a kid. A
kid with an enormous prick. As I nodded, his smile grew. "You wanna
touch it? I don't think anybody'll see, do you?" He took his hand from
his crotch and placed it on the back of my hand on the arm rest. "Go
ahead, we'll both like it, I bet."

	Once again my heart was pounding furiously, but no longer with
fear. I let him guide my hand between his slightly spread legs, and I
placed my hand on the base of his cock, then followed it down, taking
time to trace the outline of the bulbous head at the end. Suddenly my
fantasies began to acquire some form, to merge with reality. I
squeezed easily the soft cylinder, felt the heat of it through the
stretchy fabric.

	Before I realized what I was doing, I leaned forward and put
my lips on him, sliding them up and down the tool still encased in
shiny black fabric. "Oh, baby, that's nice. That's real nice." I
glanced up at him as I gave the head of his cock a squeeze. "Oh, man,
you wanna kiss it? You want it?"

	He looked up and down the train, and seeing no one, he pulled
his pants quickly down to his knees. Out flopped his long, heavy
prick, dangling invitingly in front of my face. Without thinking, I
lifted it to my lips and kissed its tip, tasting the first of his
pre-coital juices. So, he too had been fantasizing! I kissed him again
and again, working my way up his wand to it's base. He had hardly any
pubic hair, only a little soft blondish tuft to either side of his
dick.

	Holding the long, soft shaft upright, I ran my lips back up to
the tip, which I took into my mouth. Swirling my tongue around the
end, I sucked easily at him, stroking the shaft with my hand. His
hips began to grind in small circles as his eyes closed and his head
fell back. "Ooohhh, yes, baby. Yessss, suck me, suck me," he groaned.

	As I sucked and rubbed, I felt him growing firmer and thicker,
but not much longer. The wrinkled skin of his prick gradually drew
taught as he thickened, and I felt the spongy head of his cock grow
fuller in my mouth. Then his hands slipped beneath the top of my
sundress, and he had a breast in either palm. He wore those padded
biking gloves without fingers, and the rough leather scratched at my
nipples, bringing them quickly erect and hard. I felt my pussy
tingling again as he tweaked my nipples with his bare fingers. And his
tool grew firmer still.

	Stopping my ministrations to his prick to look up, I said, "I
want it in me, okay. Just let me get you a little harder," and I went
back back to my sucking, bobbing hard on his thick, long cock.

	"Oh, yeah, I wanna fuck you baby, but it don't get any harder,
okay? That's the thing with these big cocks, they tell me. But, Oh,
shit that's good... But, but it's plenty hard enough, believe me.
Here, get up, okay."

	As I stood, I stripped my sweaty panties to the floor, then I
turned my back to him, and spreading my legs, bent over and lifted the
skirt of my dress over my now bare behind. I could hardly believe I
was baring my ass on the subway in New York, but I really wanted his
cock.

	He stood for a moment to admire the lack of tan lines on my
ass, then stepped forward. "What a gorgeous pussy you have, baby. But
the hair doesn't quite match, does it?" he chuckled. "Oh, shut up and
fuck me," I laughed back at him. He took another look up and down the
train, and I reached between my legs with one hand and guided the
swollen head of his prick to my very wet slit. He held his cock at
the base and squeezed, making himself more rigid as he pushed himself
in. It hurt a little as his engorged tool stretched me little by
little, in and out, a little deeper each time.

	"Oh, kid, you are BIG," I grunted as his pole found the end of
my pussy and could penetrate no further. He pulled almost all the way
out, and then slid himself all the way back in again. I was now
rubbing my clit with my free hand as I rested my forearm against the
"Do not lean" door and my head on my arm. Another long stroke and it
no longer hurt to have him in me. Another, and I was glad he wasn't
harder, as he jammed himself against the end of my pussy.

	Now he was wet, and I was dilated enough that he didn't need
to hold himself any more. Both his hands were now hooked in the crook
of my hips, and his thrusts became more rapid and forceful.
Thankfully, when he could jam no more of his huge cock into me, it
would bend at the base, and it didn't hurt, so he was able to fuck
just as hard as he wanted.

	I continued to rub at my clit, and as I did, I felt an orgasm
coming. "Oh, yes, baby, fuck me hard. Fuck me, make me come, baby,
make me come," I urged. His pace quickened, and my climax came pouring
over me. "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God... " I grunted as I came. He
continued to ram his cock into me, and another wave swept through me.

	I moved my fingers from my clit to my pussy, wrapping finger
and thumb around his thick rod as it slid in and out, in and out. Then
I reached further back, and rubbed at his testicles as they came
within reach. "Oh, baby, oh, yes," he moaned. I squeezed his plunging
cock again. "Oh, yes, baby, yes, yes." I felt him grow stiffer and
thicker as he started to come. "Oh, yes, here it comes, baby. Oh,
shit!"

	He pummeled me with his rigid tool as it began to pulse and he
shot his hot creamy load into my pussy. "Oh, man! Oh, man, oh, man,
oh, man... " he moaned as his spasms subsided. My knees grew weak, and
had he not held me up, I'd have fallen to the floor as the train
lurched to life.

	"Oh, shit!" we said in unison. He pulled out his long tool,
which I licked clean before holding it down in place for him as he
struggled to pull up his tight riding pants. I took my panties and
wiped myself dry, then balled them up and threw them beneath a seat.
Pantyless, I elected to ride the rest of the way to 72nd St. standing
up. My partner got off at 59th, I think, and we exchanged knowing
smiles as he wandered into the mid-town crowd.