The gentleman carefully settled his suitcase into the overhead luggage rack, dusted off his hat and folded himself into the only remaining free seat on the crowded train. The air was damp and humid; it had rained a good deal of the morning and the carriage was gently filling with the steam of compressed commuting bodies. Coats soaked down through the shoulders where umbrellas had failed to do their job, women's delicate dabs of perfume washed out and mingled into one. The hum of inefficient work calls and inaudible train safety announcements began to drift through the air as the train pulled out of the platform.
He was nervous. That much was clear. As soon as he sat down he tapped his knee again and again against the low table. His large hands twitched and pulsed. He was tall, over six foot, and his long limbs were not accustomed to being folded and kept close to him in such a manner. He ran his hand through his greying hair and stared out of the window trying to focus. Just a few feet above him in his suitcase, carefully wrapped and hidden in linen, was the notebook.
He cast his mind back to the messy business of that morning - it was unfortunate he had had to step in and silence the new start in that manner. Messy. He needed to get out of this line of work. He was getting too old perhaps. He was sure there used to be less, well, less mess.
Looking through the window at the diagonal streaks of grey, he was suddenly aware of a reflection staring right at him. A woman, perhaps in her thirties with long brown hair gently curled around her shoulders. She had dark brown eyes and was occupied in holding her mouth gently open as she applied fresh lipstick. What was odd, was that she wasn't looking at a mirror to apply it, instead she was watching him. Directly, and only, him.
The gentleman flushed, and looked around the carriage to see if her gaze could have possibly been at any of the other travelers. But it wasn't. Her movements were slow and deliberate. She ran the rouge across the curved dip on her top lip, and then licked it very gently with her tongue to make it shine, all the while looking at him through the window's reflections. Something stirred in the gentleman. A warmth trickled slowly into his tired limbs. He looked away suddenly embarrassed.
He tried to concentrate on the unpleasant task that was ahead of him, and yet her reflection was still flickering out of the corner of his eye. She moved her body forwards to reach down into her bag, and as she did so, he could see the curve of her collar bones and the soft flesh of the top of her breasts that pressed softly against the seat's fold-out table in front of her. He stared again, curious that he could see so far down her top, wondering if perhaps she wasn't wearing a bra.
As he strained to look more carefully, her eyes raised and met him in the window glass. She smiled, slowly. Making sure no one else was looking, and positioning herself in such a way that only he could possible see, she bent further forward, pretending to reach something in her handbag on the floor, and unbuttoned the top buttons of her shirt. With clear, deliberate movements she started to pull it slightly to one side, letting her left breast gently rise out of her shirt. He stared. Her breast glowed a soft milky white,and the outer edge of her dark nipple could just be seen poking out of the neatly ironed white fabric ...
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat the gentleman coughed softly to cover his growing discomfort and looked away. But then found himself drawn back to look again. She was still looking at him.
As his eyes caught hers a slow smile appeared on her freshly made up lips and, without changing position, she moved a hand up along the button row of her shirt. As she did so, he noticed that her nails were painted in the same deep colour as her lips. Her fingers moved under the shirt and began to cup her partially exposed breast. He could see the painted nails moving under the pale, translucent white of the shirt. As he looked on her thumb slowly rotated over her dark nipple, which visibly tautened under the touch.
Suddenly agitated his long limbs jostled against his fellow passenger in the seat next to him who looked up from their free newspaper. "Sorry." A "S'all right" emerged from behind the paper and they disappeared back behind the paper walls into thoughts of celebrities, dinner, and the hell of the daily commute.
As he recovered his composure he quickly glanced back at the woman. She was sat upright now, a wry smile on her lips. She was looking out of the window again but didn't seem to be using it to watch him. His thoughts returned to the events of the day and the notebook. Why was there always a notebook? Did people think they were being original in using one, that he'd not think to look? He wasn't a tyro, he'd been in the business too long, and seen too many strange things, too often, to be surprised by what people did. For God's sake.....he was abruptly shaken out of his train of thought by the touch of something moving against his leg.
He looked down.
A woman's foot was moving up and down against his calf. How long had it been doing that? He'd been deep in thought and couldn't think. He looked at the woman. She seemed completely oblivious to what her own foot was doing and was reading now, a......what was it? An ebook, that was it. The movement and pressure continued; unbidden, long forgotten thoughts began to bubble up in his mind.
He glanced around, a silent sullenness had settled on the carriage, the rain, train delays, the get home-eat-sleep-back to work; all causing people to retreat into themselves. He looked down under the table. The foot was small, perhaps a 3 or a 4, with dark nails - again the same colour he noticed - and clad in a sheer dark nylon. Twisting slightly, but carefully this time, he looked further under the table. A discarded patent leather high heeled shoe stood on the floor, next to the twin of it and the foot now caressing his leg. As he looked on the legs he was now staring at moved slowly apart and his eyes moved up the along them from the ankles, to their smooth calves, to....the table, it was right in the way and blocked his line of sight. Damn.
He looked back up at the woman, "Excuse me...."
'... would you like me to move? I seem to be restricting you in some way? He spluttered nervously.
The woman looked at him with a wry smile. She paused, and gently said, ''Well, I wonder if you could help me? I need to get something out of my luggage, but it's in a different carriage in one of the tall racks. I don't think I'll be able to reach it ... Would you mind coming with me for a moment? I'd be so grateful'. She lingered on the grateful, in a way that made the gentleman swallow. Hard.
Would he come with her? Fuck, yes he would. His cock was already aching and throbbing and her foot had only touched him with the lightest of caresses. She stood up, pulling her shirt in to place. He could see her dark nipples, hard through the fabric. It was killing him. She slipped her shoe back on, smiling at him as she did so. God she was so beautiful, thought the gentleman. He ached to rip her shirt of right then and suck her breasts hard into his mouth, biting down on her nipples, making her cry out in pain. He wanted to squeeze them in his hands, to fold them in around his fingers and pull at them away from her chest until he left red marks against her.
He pulled his mind together. He had to stop this. What the hell was he doing?!
She was already half way down the carriage, gently moving her hips from side to side to avoid knocking into elbows, laptops, sleeping spread legs. He fumbled out of his seat, his long legs eager to stretch. He followed her down the aisle, his right hand attempting to cover the bulge that was growing in his crotch; to shield it from the eyes of other passengers.
At the end of the carriage corridor, the woman paused, pushing herself into a corner that was almost hidden from view. Some sort of spare space where bikes could be stored he supposed. She turned her back against the wall and raised her arms up stretching her wrists up above her head. Fuck. Fuck, he wanted her. What was she doing? Someone was sure to come along and see ... Shit.
Sweat started to collect on his brow and above the small of his back. He couldnt' take his eyes of her. He didn't do this sort of thing. He needed to leave.
'Lift my shirt up.' She commanded, looking him directly in the eye.
'I want you to push it all the way up so my breasts are exposed. I won't move. Go on. I want you to take my tits in your mouth and fuck them with your tongue...'
The gentleman glanced nervously along the carriage. It was quiet, the train was running through the darkened countryside and the commuters were all lost in their own thoughts, nobody seemed to be moving about. A strange anticipation took hold. He'd done the bidding of others for so long that this one thing for himself didn't begin to seem like such a large step.
He looked back at the woman, she was leant back against the carriage wall, her wrists crossed together above her head. Her white blouse was half untucked from the waist band of her skirt, which clung to her hips and was stretched tight across the front of her thighs. With her arms raised her breasts were pulled up, and were half exposed already. He could see the darkness of her aureoles under the blouse, where her semi erect nipples were pushing against the smooth fabric.
He leant forward and started to pull the shirt open. His fingers touched, soft smooth flesh as he did so and he could feel the women tremble. His hands moved up her waist, working the shirt loose and open as he did so.
Nervous, but now not out of fear, he glanced around; no one could be seen. 'What are you waiting for?'.
His hands started to caress her breasts. His fingers moving across the pale, sensitive flesh; slowly awakening the nerves. The woman quivered. His fingers ran over the very tips of her nipples, she moaned. With increasing pressure he started to massage her breasts whilst his thumbs moved in circles around her emerging nipples.
His head bent down and he sucked his thumbs. The moisture gave a slipperyness to his thumbs, causing them to glide across the sensitive skin; touching, tantalising, teasing. She moaned again. He bent his head down and began to kiss her breasts, running his tongue around the nipples; then, he started to take nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue across them as he did so. Moving from breast to breast he used his teeth to pinch and pull her nipples. She gasped and her moaning grew more incessant. 'Tha.....tha....that's it. There!'.
Oblivious to everything else; where they were, the ache in his long limbs, and the work that still remained for him that day, he moved his arms around her, pulling her tight against him. One hand caressed her breasts, whilst the over ran lightly over the smooth silkiness of her thighs. He grasped the hem of her skirt and pulled it up, exposing the tops of her sheer, dark holdups.
Insistent fingers moved up her leg, under her skirt and probed the soft enfolds of her sex. Her black panties were wet, very wet. Working through the soft lace he moved his fingers back and forth, spreading the moisture, gliding over her clit as he did so. His head continued to nuzzle her breasts, teeth pinching and teasing her nipples, until even his very breath upon them caused tremors of excitement to run down her spine.
She was close now, he could feel it. He continued to move her fingers against her pussy, pulled her panties aside and started to massage her engorged clit. 'Hhhhhhh. Hhhhhhh. Hhhhhhh.' She was lost, her arms dropped down, grabbed him and held him tight whilst her whole body was overcome, jerking uncontrollably against him. 'Yssssssss!'
Other sounds started to come to his attention, the train was slowing, people started stirring. A mechanical voice announced: 'The next station is......'. She rose in his arms, straightening herself as she did. 'If, if, you could just reach up;' she seemed to be having trouble speaking; 'and....help me'.
Ignoring her request, the gentleman grabbed her forcefully by the waist and pulled her away from the wall, all the while anxiously looking towards the train's doors. They would open any minute now and new passengers would
get on. She was limp, hot, and exhausted. Her frame slumped against him. He could smell the saltyness of her sex on his fingers, on his palms, against her thighs. He licked his fingers clean. His cock pulsed to attention again. He would have to act quickly...
His breathing was shallow and panicked, making his heart knock against his chest. He felt sick. He knew he shouldn't. He should never have followed her down the corridor. This was all getting out of control. What if she had been hired by them? There's no way she wasn't connected with this morning's business... Too late. He wanted to fuck her in every way possible, in every hole, and he wasn't going to sit back down in his seat until he had.
He squeezed them both into the changing room toilet, just moments before the train drew into the next platform. She slumped down on the toilet seat,her shirt still half open, her breasts spilling out, her nipples still hard from his bites and her stockings stained at the top with her cum. He shakily pressed the 'Lock' button, sealing the pair of them in the dank and squalid cubicle.
He stood before her. He lifted her head gently up, examining her perfect mouth. The upper lip, dented deep in a perfect curl, the small white teeth, the little freckle where a dimple should be. Her lips were so full. Her lipstick drew him in. Two parted red lips, asking him to claim them. He unzipped his trousers, and guided his cock out of the slit in his boxers, and through the hole in his flies. He moved forward, urgently, pressing the tip of his aching cock against her open lips. He held it there. Looking at her. His erection was huge and hard. He'd never wanted a woman so much.
His head glistened with pre-cum, and was so swollen and red it almost hurt. He could feel the ache in the base of his balls and lower back. He wanted to much to ram his cock into her open mouth, push it through her lips, feel it against her tongue and down her throat. He wanted to hold the back of her head, and fuck her mouth, hard and again and again. But he held back. He wanted the exquisite agony of having the lightest of touches. Somehow just presenting himself to her in this manner was even better.
He closed his eyes and rolled his head back. Savouring the stillness of the moment.
Suddenly the woman came to life, and started a slow, rhythmic suck on his cock. Gently, gently pulling it into her full mouth, and slowly letting it out again. Suckling on the tip as if it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. She looked up at him as she did so. Her large brown eyes, lined perfectly with black eyeliner, gazed at him with the most loving and filthy of looks.
She lifted her hands up and cupped his balls, pulling them down away from his cock, stretching out his erection and making him pulse even harder. Carefully, and deliberately she ran the tip of her tongue in circles around the head of his penis, lapping tiny circles from the smallest loop just around his hole, outwards and over the whole ridge. Sweeping and licking, sucking and nibbling. She moaned as she did so, the vibrations of her throat shooting down his shaft and sending ripples of pleasure through him. God, she was good.
Quite suddenly her pace increased, she sucked so much harder, and her hands, wet from her spit, ran up and down his shaft. Twisting at the top and sending him into an agony of pleasure, only to work back down with the softest of caresses. Again and again she moved up and down and sucked hard on the whole of his cock, like she wanted to drain him dry.
'Mmm, fuck your cock tastes so good', she moaned. 'I want you to fuck my mouth, go on, please. Fuck my mouth like I know you want to'...
He wanted her so badly. He wanted to shoot his hot cum all over her face, her breasts her hair.........but not yet. There was much else he wanted first. He looked down at her; at her dark red slash of a mouth, and the soft pale translucent skin of her breasts. Despite her dishevelled clothes,and soiled state, she was still the most desirable woman he'd seen in an age.
But something nagged his thoughts. For him, she was perfect. Her looks, her dress, her demeanor, she was....too perfect? Was that all it took to undo him? To undo his years of service? A flash of tit and a quick fumble. He was better than that, worth more than that. If they'd thought him weak enough to be sucked in by this old trick, he'd show them.
A slow anger began to take hold. New energy warmed his limbs and flushed away his last vestiges of reticence.
Reaching down he pulled her up and grasped her tight. Her body was soft and compliant, he ached to possess her. She looked at him. 'You know you want me. I was chosen to match you. We know who, and what, you are'.
There was no need for words now, on his part they would only be an exercise in futility. He turned her round, in the tight space there was now way of doing it without her buttocks pressing up against his exposed, erect cock. Even the touch of her skirt running across his exposed glans was a sort of agony. He steeled himself.
With one hand he hitched her skirt up and tucked it into her waistband. And with the other he began to caress her breasts. The reaction was almost immediate. She began to move against him, her buttocks grinding into his groin, seeking him out where he was strongest but yet still weak. Her arse was wet, covered in come and sweat, it moved over his erect cock, sliding up and down. He throbbed. He ached. He almost came. But he didn't.
He released his grip on her arms and her hands stretched out to brace her body against the narrow walls. This new freedom allowed her to continue to drive herself back into him. Now. Now was the moment. His free hand took hold of his cock and guided its tip until it rested against the wet entrance to her pussy. With a last movement of her arse she pushed back until just the very head of him was inside her.
They both paused. He quivered with anticipation, his shaft twitching in the soft warm embrace it was held in. He felt her pussy pulse in response. They both moved; him forwards, her backwards.
A soft, simultaneous groan came from both of them.
His cock moved deep inside her, filling her as her moist sex drew him in and in. Surrounding and engulfing him. His balls tightened, the ache was like nothing else he'd ever experienced. He felt her contract and relax around him, a pattern of sensation in an otherwise senseless world. His entire being became focused on his cock.
Slowly he began to move his hips, pulling his cock almost out of her warm grasp before pushing it back in. As he did so he gripped her hips, holding her fast and preventing her from matching his movements. All she could feel was at his behest.
His hunger for her was a physical thing now, made real by the spreading ache in his groin. His breathing grew more desperate as his movements into her grew in rapidity and force. She began to moan, little exhalations of noise forced out at the depth of his thrust. It excited him more. His hands clenched her soft flesh ever tighter, imprisoning her even more.
She was wet now, so wet. But still he could feel her grip him tight as he moved. The rich fragrence of her sex filled the small space, drowning out all other smells.
The pace of his thrusts was beyond anything he could recall experiencing. He felt the urge to howl, to shout, to scream out, to release the pressure building in him.
'Cum, I want you to cum.'
Her voice dragged him back from the abyss. 'Wwwwht?'
'Cum inside me. I need you.'
