Three Days Clean and I Am Fingering My Pussy on the Train

She knows exactly what she's doing to you. Her hand moves slowly, fingers tracing the edges of her pussy, a tease in every touch. Her breath catches, a soft gasp as she presses deeper, her eyes locked on you, daring you to keep watching.

Her body responds to her own touch, wetness glistening on her fingers as she strokes herself. The sound of her breathing fills your ears, a rhythmic pace that matches the beat of your heart. You can feel your pulse racing, your hand instinctively reaching out, as if to touch her yourself. The way she smiles at you, a knowing glint in her eye, makes you ache with desire.

The tension builds, her movements becoming more urgent, but still so slow. You can feel your edge approaching, the ache growing with every passing moment. She teases you with every stroke, every touch of her fingers against her lips. And then, just as suddenly as it began, it's over. She smiles at you once more, and you're left wondering what just happened, the heat of the moment still coursing through your veins. Your hand remains poised, ready to take over where she left off, leaving you to finish what she started.