Last night was last night.
Pete did what he always does – and I wasn’t complaining. I love Pete and have done for years. He’s kind and caring, and his lovemaking is thorough and considerate. We’re a perfect match, we’ve always thought so.
Take last night. Four orgasms, each more powerful than the last, and my cunt still tingles at the memory. I really shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. After all, finding a man prepared to work so hard to take me over the edge – and then to feel his knobbly, hard, loving cock plunge into my depths and fill my womb with his seed… Well, a girl has to take what she can get.
Trouble is, sometimes it’s not quite enough. I need a good fucking.
I mean, sometimes a girl needs love and affection, sometimes a good fucking with no holds barred, sometimes a bit of both. Right now, I need a good hard fucking. With no holds barred.
But here I am, going home on a summer Sunday evening on an almost empty train. It rocks gently from side to side, with nothing to see but the backs of Victorian villas out the windows and the backs of the seats in front.
I’m bored. And I’m still feeling hot. I arch my back and press down on the seat to get some stim into my clit.
Did I say the train was almost empty? I see a mes of curly dark hair above the high seat back just two rows ahead. Must be a tall man at that height. I idly wonder what’s underneath that mop-top. He looks this way and that. Could be he’s bored too.
My hand drifts downwards, my middle finger idly stroking my clit through my thin cotton skirt and sheer panties. There’s no-one here to see what I’m doing. My eyes half-closed, I drift into a fantasy involving lots of cocks attached to faceless men. They’re surrounding me, masturbating hard, cumming on my breasts and face. My mouth falls open slightly as the images grow more insistent, and my finger pushes harder on my clit – now throbbing and growing in its demands.
The ticket inspector appears next to me. I rummage for my ticket, hand it to him, he scribbles on it. The inspector smiles as he hands the ticket back, then moves down the carriage. I don’t think he saw – I hope he didn’t see – what I was doing but I feel my face burn anyway.
Mr Curly Hair stands as the inspector gets to his seat. He’s tall. He turns his head so I get a good profile view. Oh my god! He looks like Aragorn – you know, the hunky one in Lord of the Rings. Two-day stubble, sun-tanned skin with laughter lines, and broad shoulders shoe-horned inside a light shirt with two buttons undone at the top. He reaches into his back pocket and smiles as he hands over his ticket. They exchange a few words but I’m too far away to hear. Mr Hunk – he’s Mr Curly Hair no longer – takes his ticket back and then turns to look at me. He doesn’t look away.
He must have felt me staring at him. Yes, that’s the only explanation.
His grin becomes wider – and I can’t stop staring at him. Am I smiling? I have no idea but I can feel what’s happening between my legs. It’s been at least three hours since my last orgasm and my cunt is ready for more. I can feel the slickness oozing into my panties. I guess I haven’t helped the situation with my not-so-idle fingers.
Our eyes are still locked together. The hunk slowly turns towards me, slides out of his seat, and walks slowly, deliberately towards me. Now I can see all of him. Cool, white-soled trainers on his feet, a shirt that hugs his figure beautifully, and jeans that utterly fail to hide the bulge in his crotch. And he’s still grinning, and the crinkles around his eyes hooding the dark brown eyes boring into me. He knows he’s gorgeous. By the time he reaches my seat, my pussy is dripping.
How would Pete feel at this moment, if he knew? He loves me – and his self appointed mission is to make me happy. And I realise I’m still smiling – grinning from ear to ear in fact, so I must be happy. But I’m not finding it difficult to put Pete to the back of my mind right now. Everything is receding in fact. And my cunt suddenly feels like it’s occupying about half of my entire body.
Mr Hunk says ‘hi’. Sits down next to me. We shake hands. He’s Karl. I give him my name. ‘Hi Wendy’, he says. We’re both grinning like Cheshire cats. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy the ticket inspector leave the carriage. I think he turned briefly to look at us.
Karl’s eyes and mine have been locked together so long it’s clear we’re both hungry. We both turn towards each other.
I put my hand on his thigh. I feel the heat of his muscles as they tense up. I realise I’m shaking slightly, from the sexual energy we’re both exuding. It looks like the bulge in his jeans is now at bursting point, outlining a thick and very hard cock. And it’s throbbing. How does it not burst out, a tiny part of me is wondering.
We lean in for a kiss and I smell his earthy aroma, mixed with a whiff of a musky shampoo. His hand strokes my inner thigh and my legs part, almost of their own volition, to grant him admission. He accepts my invitation, his thick, strong fingers stroking the outside of my drenched panties. We’re still kissing, his tongue fluttering inside me as I reciprocate, stroking every surface of his mouth.
My hips twitch towards his hand, urging him on, as I pull my skirt up to expose my cunt. He pulls the tiny gusset aside, and strokes my pussy, his finger reaching up to my hungry clit in a long, slow motion. We break mouth contact and I bury my face in his mop of dense hair, breathing in the smell of him. My hips are pushing my cunt up and down, thrusting at his hand.
‘More, mmmph’, I grunt. He doesn’t need a second invitation. His breathing deepens, panting gently. His hand covers my opening, two fingers, then three plunge inside, again and again, then pulling out to soak and caress my aching clit with my overflowing juices.
Suddenly, he stops. He stands up, and I have a moment of panic. Is he about to leave? Instead, he reaches down, lifts me gently, and pulls my panties off. Then kneels in front of me, pulling my hips onto the edge of the seat – and towards his waiting mouth. His tongue flutters across my clit, then runs into my aching void to lap at my essence. My cunt aches for fullness. His fingers delve into my body, pulling the orgasm from me. First two fingers, then three, now four. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
His hands are on my breasts now, tweaking my nipples through the thin cotton. I feel them harden as they send their signals downwards, building towards the fast approaching explosion.
I can feel his growl as he works my body towards its climax. He doesn’t let up or slow down. He seems to know what this girl needs right now.
I can feel my orgasm building and my thighs tense. That familiar tingling sensation that starts at my feet and works its way up at the same time as my face and neck burn, the heat and tingling converging on my cunt, my cunt, the sensations from my cunt filling my consciousness.
His tongue works its way up and down my clit bringing me to the edge as his fingers pump into me – and suddenly
I’m there, my thighs clench around his head and my fists ball as my cunt spasms again and again around the fist that’s inside it. As I cum and cum, gushing onto his beard, I try to be quiet but I think I shouted.
A little while later, I arrive back on Planet Earth. The sexy smell of my juices on the soaked seat surrounds us. He’s grinning up at me. Stands. I rub the bulge in his jeans and his head goes back in ecstasy. Quickly I unzip and tug his jeans down to his knees. He’s gone commando. His veined ridged cock must be seven or eight inches long and almost as thick as my wrist.
This, I need inside me. Right now.
But first I need to push him to the edge. Mouth open, I lean towards that glorious, wonderful cock. His hand goes behind my head and he thrusts into my mouth. I know how to do this.
My tongue rotates around his head and vibrates that oh-so sensitive tip of his cock. He pushes it deeper towards the back of my throat. His hand behind my head pulls me forward, closer to that musky aroma. I take a deep breath, open wide, and push further towards him. His cock slips down my throat and I hear him moan. Throat-fucking is hard but I’ve practised how not to gag. His thrusts get deeper and the throbbing harder and faster. He’s holding my head as he fucks my face. He’s in control and I can smell his growing need.
I come up for air. ‘Cum inside me’, I whisper. I push my hips towards him, opening my legs wide in invitation, my cunt a gaping void demanding to be filled.
He aims his cock towards my hole. I grab his arse and pull him into me, pausing only briefly at that oh-so-glorious moment of first entry. With his hands on the seat back above me, his powerful legs pump his majestic male organ inside me again, again, again, thrusting deep into me, towering above me, dominant and urgent.
His cock is thick and the angle just right to rub my clit as his urgent thrusting increases its frequency. I’m going to cum soon….
It won’t take him long either. I sense I’m just a hole to him now, a place for him to deliver the load I know his balls are triggered to pump inside me. I love that feeling – that I can do that to a man, to know that he needs my cunt. His eyes roll back, his mouth is open and the sweat drips off his chin. I know his male urge to mate, to procreate, to fuck this woman occupies him now, his cock seeking the deepest part of my physical being, thrusting hard and fast now. God I love being fucked. I want him to cum now, to feel his hot spunk spurting into me. His cock twitches once, twice and then I feel it. He’s at the point of no return.
As my cunt prepares to cum again, his body arches, his cock pushes balls-deep inside me, and every fibre of him tenses to pump his seed inside me. I feel his cock pulsate as his balls empty to splash hot ropes of spunk into my womb, spurting, spurting, spurting. And as I feel his ecstasy, I cum, my cunt gripping and pulsating around his cock, feeling every ridge and vein of him as I milk his balls for every precious drop.
We collapse on the seats, panting and oozing juices onto the floor. I look at him and he at me. We grin and kiss.
‘Fuck me’, I breathe.
‘I just did’. Laughter.
And the tannoy bursts into life, announcing the next station, destinations, platforms, all that. I pick up my sopping panties, chuck them into my bag, pull my skirt down. As the platform moves into view behind him, he somehow crams his still-hard cock into his jeans, zips up, and we’re decent.
To look at anyway. We smell of sex. The carriage smells of sex.
‘Lovely to meet you Wendy’, Karl says. ‘But this is my stop’.
‘Karl – I…’. I grab his head and kiss him hard. The doors open and he tears himself away. He stands on the platform as the train pulls out. I’ll remember that grin for as long as I live.
That, and the perfect fuck. I’m sure Pete would be proud of me.