Author: [MrRi] Tube Tales

[2622]

Hi All,
After appreciating a lot of the stuff put on here, and knowing that I can't draw worth a damn, thought I'd turn my hand to this instead. Hope you like it...
Cheers

Tube Tales
by MrRi
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Chapter I

I've always loved the London Underground system. Sure, it's fairly dirty, and breaks down half the time, but it's quick when it does work, and even though no-one ever makes eye-contact (because that's just not the done thing), there's still an intimacy about it. Being one hundred feet below ground in a small metal cylinder will have that effect.

Although it's most busy during the rush hours, with going to and from work, the Tube really comes into its own late in the evening. It doesn't run all night like the New York Subway, only runs until near one in the morning, but at that time there's always something to see, even though you're probably tired and a bit drunk yourself. Saturday nights are the best, because people will stay out like on Friday nights, but they'll be in clothes they certainly couldn't show up for work in, unless they work in an extremely liberal office. It was one of these glorious Saturday nights that I saw her.

In a carriage which was fairly empty, I'd assumed my usual position, which involves leaning against one of the stand-up seats at the end of it. I had my mp3 player loud as it could be, and glanced around the carriage every so often as we raced back to north London from the centre of the city, I didn't notice her when she got on - hell for all I know, she might have been sitting there the whole time - but once I did spot her, it was hard to keep my eyes from drifting back in that direction. I should say here that I'm not a guy who impresses easily; it's rare that I'll do more than a double-take if I see a good-looking woman. Chances are that within those two glances, I'll have noticed something that I don't like about her nose, the level of make-up she's wearing, her perfume, clothes, smile, even the look on her face. Any of those factors (and then some) will be enough to avoid me looking for a third time, but when I saw this girl, sitting fifteen feet away from me, I could barely take my eyes off her. She wasn't dressed up in 'club clothes', wearing a mini-skirt and boob-tube. She wasn't dressed up at all in fact, which is probably one of the reasons I noticed her. Just jean shorts and a white, long-sleeved shirt, which was loose and frilly. I thought it a bit of an odd combination, a bit too 1980s for my liking, plus the long sleeves in the summer were out of place, but she was so stunning I paid no attention to it. All I could focus on was her legs. Her blue denim shorts were short in name, and certainly in nature, revealing the most incredible thighs I had ever seen. They were huge. You see the muscle rippling as she sat there cross-legged, seemingly oblivious to my constant attention. I've seen women with decently sized calves before, and I've seen who knows how many on female bodybuilders, but these were different. There was something natural about them, as if they hadn't been worked on in a punishing training regime, but rather were just naturally like that. That'd be crazy though. Until I noticed her calves. They were bigger than my thighs, and I'm not a small guy. I'm certainly bigger than the average bear, standing at 6'2" and weighing in at 230 pounds, so believe it when I say that for her to have calves that dwarf any part of me is no mean feat.

By this point, my station was fast approaching, and I was trying to decide whether I would approach her before I had to get off. I was slightly tempted to just ride the train until she got off, but figured this would be a bit too much like the action of a stalker (the idea actually creeped myself out), plus I could end up stranded somewhere I might not be able to get home from. As the train slowed down, the lights of the station illuminated the carriage, and I headed to the door to get out. I glanced over to where she was sitting again for one last, lingering look at the most incredible woman I would ever see, only to discover she was no longer there.




Chapter II

I was fairly sure she existed, although she was so incredibly perfect it was highly possible that she had been a figment of my imagination. While I was pondering this possibility, the train had stopped and the doors opened. I got off; as soon as I turned to walk to the exit, there she was, walking in front of me. I swear I nearly skipped I was so excited.

There weren't many people getting of at our station at this time of night, so I had a perfect view of her on the escalator. I was a few steps down from where she was standing, staring up at the backs of her thighs and her tight, perfectly-shaped butt. The jean shorts she was wearing tightly hugged her peachy behind, and I'm sure that I was staring so hard that I probably knew every thread of them by the time we were half-way up. My eyes worked their way down to her calves, bigger than my biceps and staring straight back at me. Ironically, if I stayed staring at her waist, this would probably be the end of the tale. Because if I'd stayed staring at her waist, I would have noticed her turn and see me. But I didn't, and she did. "Can I help you with something?" I heard a sultry feminine voice say. Because of the nature of London, the population size and the close-quarters in which people have to be in public, you always hear people saying things which are not meant for you, but you look over anyway most of the time, just to make sure it's not you whose attention is trying to be caught. On this occasion however, I didn't look over (or, more accurately, up). I glanced at my watch and tried to pretend that I assumed the voice was talking to someone else. The calves began to turn, becoming shins. "I said, is there something you wanted?" she asked again. I was this close to letting her know exactly what I wanted, but if she decided at that moment to push me down the escalator, the power in those arms would have meant that I would have probably been in the air until I was at the bottom of it. That would hurt. Bad. I looked up at her, and saw her wide, hazel eyes staring straight back at me. I went to reply with some witty retort, but then paused, opting for a safer response.

"No, I don't think there's anything I need help with thanks. Well, not at the moment at least." "So why pay so much attention to me then? I saw you staring, don't pretend that you weren't," she said angrily. I smiled slightly, and held my hands up. "Ok, you got me," I said with mock apologia. "So let me make it up to you by doing this," and walked up the escalator until I was on the step in front of her. "How is that making up for it?" she asked, the confusion in her tone apparent. Just as she finished her sentence, the escalator reached the top and began to flatten out and become normal ground again. "See, I look at you a bit, but then make sure you don't lose your balance when the escalator reaches the top and you’re not ready for it because you’re turned around talking to me. One cancels out the other. I am very sorry that you caught me glancing at you, but it was very nice to meet you nonetheless". With that, I strolled toward the barriers as nonchalantly as possible, swiped my card, and headed out of the station into the night. My heart was racing, but I'd somehow managed to get away with it. It was Cary Grant at his finest, and I'd pulled it off with aplomb. Sort of.

"What do you mean 'caught'?" I heard the same voice call out behind me as I walked away in a manner that I thought Cary Grant might. I stopped, but didn't turn around, partly for effect, but partly because I didn't know if I could be as brazen second time around. I turned slowly, and saw her standing outside the station, hands on hips. I suddenly noticed her arms through her shirt for the first time – even though it was loose, her biceps and triceps were doing a pretty good job of tightening it up. I couldn’t tell how big they were, but had a feeling they dwarfed any muscle I had on me. I smiled, and shuffled towards her, hands in my pockets, looking like a school kid heading to the Headmaster's office. "What did I mean by 'caught'?" I echoed. "That's a very good question."

"Well...?" she demanded, although her tone sounded as if it had a more playful ring to it now. I stood for a moment, just looking at her, and then smiled again. "Well I suppose I meant that I was sorry that you witnessed me staring at the most amazing legs I'm ever going to see, especially considering that you're the person whom they belong to." I was just gonna go for it. What's the worst that could happen? Well, that didn't bear thinking about, but thought I may as well just let her know what I was thinking. Surely she couldn't react badly to a compliment? "Shut up!" she said, blushing. Her demeanour suddenly switched as the thought hit her that I might have been winding her up, just saying that to flatter her even though I was actually staring because I was disgusted by what I saw, not enamoured. "Are you serious?" she asked, sceptically. I smiled more widely, and signalled for her to lean in. She leant back. I signalled again, and she leant in as I requested. "I'm more serious than I've ever been, and I’m a pretty serious guy" she heard me whisper, at which point she leaned back again to take stock of me properly. She looked me up and down, and then stared straight into my eyes to see if I was being truthful. "Don't know about you, but I could do with a coffee or something," she said, finally beginning to smile comfortably. "A caffeine kick would certainly be a good thing," I responded, and began walking with her in the opposite direction to the one I was originally going in.

[2622]

Cheers!

Here's the next instalment...


Chapter III

Sitting on the couch in her low-lit living room, I heard the percolator coming alive in the kitchen. “Do you take milk and/or sugar?” she called from the kitchen. I couldn’t really think about coffee, partly because I’d assumed it was a euphemism when she first suggested it, partly because she just seemed so different any woman I’d met before that ground beans were the last thing on my mind. Black’s fine, I replied. She brought them through and sat down on an armchair across from the couch. We sat in silence for a few moments, sipping our drinks.  “So, I’ve gotta know,” she finally piped up, “were you serious earlier? It’s just that… you really seemed to be, and I’m not used to having guys just approach me like that.” I told her that, if it made her feel any better, I wasn’t used to just approaching women in the way that I did with her. All the time we were talking, I was staring intently into her eyes, specifically trying to stay from looking at the rest of her. I knew she was self-conscious as it was, and figured that the more I ogled her body, the more insecure she’d become. She asked if I minded her putting on some music, which led to Charlie Parker playing quietly in the background. It was a good idea, as it helped ease the tension slightly, and gave us something to talk about.

From music, we went to films, then books, then work (she was a graphic designer), and then it suddenly dawned on me that I didn’t even know her name. She smiled when I asked, and let me know that it was Kimberly. Her smile evaporated the next second. “I need to know something,” she began. I replied hesitantly that I’d answer whatever she asked as honestly as possible. “The thing is, I’m a bit larger than most other women you might meet.” “In what sense?” I asked, knowing full well but at least giving her the opportunity to explain what was on her mind. “See, I spend a lot of time working out – I’ve got loads of gym equipment in my spare room, as I don’t like exercising in public, but it’s a pretty big hobby of mine, to the point where I’ve developed in a way that most guys don’t seem to… appreciate.” Again making sure that I was looking into her eyes (some may have called it gazing, but it makes me sound kind of soppy), I smiled, and told her that whatever it was she was referring to, I wouldn’t have a problem with it. She looked slightly reassured, but not completely. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you come and sit next to me so you can show me what you mean, and we’ll work backwards from that?” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and then seemed to mentally shrug.

She crossed to the couch, sat down, and thought about what to say. “If you want to leave, you can. I won’t be offended or upset, and it won’t be the first or the last time. I just wanted to get that out in the open.” “You’re crazy,” I joked, “and just a little bit obsessive.” “I’m not, I’m just experienced and…” “It’s fine, I like crazy and obsessive. Only if it’s just a little bit though.” She looked at me quizzically, and then started unbuttoning her shirt. My eyes widened and eyebrows raised, as she’d taken me by surprise. As she saw my reaction, she stopped. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she muttered to herself. “I can honestly tell you that I think it’s a fantastic idea, which should be encouraged wholeheartedly,” I said quickly, trying to keep her undressing. She mentally shrugged again, and stood up. She finished with buttons on her shirt, slipped it off and gently threw it onto the armchair behind her. What I saw was absolutely amazing. Without even flexing them, her arms were far bigger than mine. Her large breasts were clearly giving her black silk bra a hard time, and her broad frame was extraordinary to behold. She put her right arm behind her head to pull out her ponytail, and the size of her bicep became increasingly clear as she did so, while her dark blonde hair dropped down to her shoulders. “Yikes,” I whispered. “I knew this was a bad idea,” she said quietly, as she put her arms across chest nervously. “No!” I exclaimed. I made it clear that I didn’t mean yikes in a bad way, just that I was surprised by what I was seeing, but impressed and enamoured more than anything. “Really?” she asked hopefully. “Really really,” I replied. “Well, in that case,” she said, with a newfound confidence in her voice, “you should really like this then.” She held her arms up and tensed her muscles for me; they were huge, certainly bigger than my thighs, and, as I’ve said before, I’m no shrinking violet. She had biceps spanning at least twenty-three inches, and triceps and forearms to match. It appeared as if she had muscles on muscles, which at this point I would not have ruled out, and her smooth, tanned skin accentuated all the ripples emanating from her arms. She pulled a couple of poses, and then asked me what I thought, although I’m fairly sure she could tell from the impressed expression on my face. “I think it’s amazing” I finally spluttered, struggling to even get those words out. “Glad you like it,” she smiled. “I’m glad someone finally does.” I told her I couldn’t understand how anyone couldn’t find her the most attractive woman on the planet, at which point her huge arms glided slowly down her abs until they reached the buttons on her jean shorts.

She flipped them open, and slid them down her legs, revealing thin red panties. Her legs were even more incredible than I had realised, her thighs bulging out beneath her fantastic underwear, her calves also proportionately large. She flexed her arms up again, and then slowly turned to give me a full view; her back muscles were as large as her biceps, with all of them jutting out of her, while her tight yet rounded buttocks smiled at me through her tight red panties.  She moved slowly towards me, to the point where she was standing right in front of me, her incredible body in my face, while I stared up at her. I could barely see her face for her breasts, still tucked away inside her struggling bra. She knelt on the couch, a leg on either side of me, so that her breasts were now completely in my face. She stroked the outside of one of her cups, and then followed her finger around her cleavage, then back to the middle of it. She tugged slightly at it, and the strap snapped, leaving her firm, rounded bosom staring right at me. She was at least a 40DD, but her tanned breasts were firm and pert, and as I felt her nipple graze my face before moving into my mouth, I knew I was going to be in for an amazing night.