Commuter Dating 18+

You’re sitting on the London to Newcastle train late at night, you’re tired and the train is almost deserted. It slowly crawls into Peterborough station, and you stare through the black window into the dim gloom.

You hear the sound of paper bags rustling and glance up. I just got on board, tall, slim, long dark shiny hair and demure, almost obscured by the designer bags wrapped around me. I sigh audibly, collapsing in the seat opposite you. You turn back to the window, admiring my reflection in it, my wide tanned shades covering my eyes, watching me drag my light brown suede jacket away.

The cream sweater is tight against my chest and you can make out the shape of my breasts underneath. Your cock begins to grow as you stare at me with my arms behind my back, wrestling with my coat, and my chest jutting forward invitingly, hovering over the table top.

I pull down the glasses, catch your eye momentarily, glance at you distainfully, and glance distainfully away. You decide not to look at me but there’s nowhere else to look.
Just the black of the window and the dark reflection of me.

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The train groans and aches it’s way out of the station, as I reach for my phone to send a text. You can’t help glancing, the way my hair falls down across my face, how I brush it back languidly. The smell of my perfume wafts across over you, the flicker of my long lashes exciting you.

     The train rocks and rolls, my shopping bags crash to the floor. I sign, bend down and retreive them sliding my head down under the table to do so. Your cock jumps in your jeans, believing it’s all for him. You spread your legs wider unthinkingly, feel the rush of pleasure as your cock grows
hard. I stand unsteadily as the train rocks, begin to place my bags on the overhead rack. I’m tall, but still I have to stretch.

     You watch my black reflection, the long legs clad in tight beige riding trousers, the tight cream sweater, the breasts practically bursting through the material. You can picture the shapely curve of my breasts perfectly, can’t you?

I sit back down opposite you, open a bag of maltesers. I pop the globes of chocolate into my mouth one at a time, sucking each one for an age. You watch my elegant cheekbones sucked in, the almost imperceptible movements of my jaw, imagine the chocolate dissolving in my warm wet mouth, sliding 

down
my
throat.

Our train rattles on slowly before coming to a stop somewhere near nowhere. I glance around perplexed, leaning forward, puzzled. You don’t know I know how you’re looking at me. A voice thin and pitiful announces a delay. I ask increduously; “Is this normal?”

You hear my voice you assume I must be Tara. Something posh and stupid. I look at you properly for the first time as you tell me about the trains. I listen as if you’re talking about Papa New Guinea pygmies – a whole new World I’ve never heard or thought of before. 

    I giggle a little when you say something silly,  and I cover my mouth as I do. My voice is a little husky, and idiotically posh, but my giggle is very human. It’s girlish and delicate, and it’s this that sends your cock soaring the most. Suddenly there’s a chance. Isn’t there?

You’re still talking, and I’m still looking, but my expression seems to have changed. I’m smiling for one thing, a glimmer of a grin at the edges of my mouth. I don’t really seem to be listening now, either. I’m engrossed in you, but with thoughts elsewhere.

I begin to ask you questions – where you’re from, what you do. My eyes widen, and I begin to relax. I’ve been very rigid in my seat up until this point, but now I move back and forwards, eager and excited. There’s a twinkle in my dark brown eyes, and something playful about my movements.
You ask me a little about myself, I spill words out like a fountain, talking at speed, jumping from topic to topic, tossing out names as if we’re old friends.

“Then Jerome and Candy…Or Victoria? No, it couldn’t be, she was with Beachamp at the time in Rhodes…” You nod and smile and think increasingly nasty thoughts.

I show you a few photos on my insanely expensive mobile – a trip to the Bahamas, myself in a bikini. I hold the phone in the middle of the table, so that we can both lean across to look. My hair brushes your cheek as you look through my pics. Heavenly cleavage, and gorgeous little bottom in bikini briefs.

When the train finally begins to roll forward once more, a momentary silence has descended between us. I’m looking across at you, head tilted slightly, an idea toying around in my head. You feel my foot brush up against your leg. You look across at me. I’m smiling at you, nibbling my bottom lip. A
grin begins to sweep across my face like a wave. Before it breaks I open my mouth to speak.

“I’m just popping to the bathroom, is it this way?”               You nod slowly.
“Thanks. If I’m not back in five, will you come and rescue me?” There’s an expectant edge to my voice. You tell me you will, I smile, staring at you half a second too long. I step out of the seat, glancing over my shoulder at you for an instant, before beginning to make my way down the aisle.

You lean over in your seat, and watch me walk away. The beige riding trousers are tight against my ass, you watch my tight little cheeks sway slightly. You glance around you to see the carriage dead. Sit back in your seat with heart racing, cock straining fiercely at your jeans. You watch the second hand on your watch. At 1 minute 30 you stand and

knock on the door lightly. I turn the lock.

You pull at the door, tug on it forcefully. I’m standing there smiling at you, my sweater hitched up a little above my waist. My belt is open, the zip on my trousers pulled down a little. The door slams shut behind you as you step towards me. Your hand wraps around my waist, your tongue racing to my neck. I spin around, and tug down my trousers, my gorgeous ass in only a thong. I raise my hands as you tear off my sweater, the matching bra barely cupping my divine breasts.

I wiggle my ass as you take out your cock, asking you sweetly to fuck me & fuck me hard. Without speaking you smear precum on my cheeks, slap my bottom and kiss my back. I let you grind my tits in your palms. I let you call me a sexy bitch.

     You waste no time entering me from behind, your mouth pressed hard against my ear, telling me what a naughty little whore I am. I move my hips, running my pussy up and down over your cock, getting wetter and wetter with every
thrust….

After I’ve come, I turn around, pulling off my bra. I sit on the closed toilet seat, lean backwards, legs spread, and beg you to come on me. You stand, jerking your cock, watching me squeeze my awesome breasts together. The honey seems to land everywhere, my neck and my belly and my tits.

We clean up and get dressed heading silently to our seats, soon the train pulls into my stop.
“Would you like to get off?” I ask, “One more time?”

But you never do learn my name.

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