The train stops again, and the last two other passengers leave. Just she and I are left now. My stop goes by, but I stay on the train.As the train rum...les down the track, I lay my newspaper aside so she can see my massive, throbbing hard-on rising in my lap. (What the hell, right?) She sinks down in her seat, a sharp intake of breath as her hand slides down between her legs. Her skirt is hiked obscenely over her hips, her legs spread wide. She locks eyes with me and moves her other hand between. She already knew my cock was bursting to get out.“What do you call it?” she asked.“Call what?”“Your cock. My boyfriend calls his ‘Mr. Polite.’ Cute, huh?”“Mr. Polite? A cock’s not exactly polite.”“His is,” she explained. “It always stands up when I come in the room.”She laughed and I joined in, in an embarrassed sort of way.“Oh, I see. Well, I call mine Mr. B.”“Mr. B? But you’re Mr. B!”“I know; but he’s more Mr. B. than I am. He does all the thinking for both of us.”“Well, tell Smarty Pants Mr.. More

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