Train of Thought

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“What had she done?” Her conscience scolded her. She boarded and sat in a twin seat at the back of the night train to her stop. It was another hour away yet and then a further 15 minute walk to her home. A home where her husband and children were and the family dog.

The carriage was empty and nothing could be heard except for the rhythmic engine and wheels of the train as it began its journey and picked up speed along the track. Outside it began to rain, pattering against the window. She could see her reflection as the light inside caused the world outside to become jet black.

She was an attractive woman in her 30’s, well dressed in a pale pink blouse, knee high black pencil skirt, black 1″ heeled shoes and a calf length black coat. She looked like a professional business woman with her shoulder length neatly styled blonde hair.

She leaned her head against the cool of the window. It began to slowly steam up from the heat of her body. She welcomed the cold against her flushed forehead and cheek and ground her head against the pane.

She should be ashamed. She should be appalled at her behaviour but she wasn’t. She was excited, she felt alive and a small secretive, Mona Lisa smile broke out on her lips. She bit on her lower lip trying to feel bad but she knew she wouldn’t. She would think of him, think of what he said, think of what he did, think of how she responded to him and her body flushed again in response to her attraction of him.

She looked around wondering if she looked different, wondering if she looked like a fallen woman, wondering if anyone could tell. She made sure no one was about and settled again in her seat relieved and leaned against the window. No one was about, no one could see her in heat. Because that is exactly what she was – a woman in heat.

She was totally alone in the carriage, hidden almost by the twin seat in front of her and for that she was grateful. Alone with her thoughts, she stared out the window, unseeing into the inky blackness outside.

The train moved her feverish body rhythmically in her seat. She found the gentle rocking from side to side strangely erotic and shut her eyes while she remembered what she had done.

She had met him about six weeks ago in a coffee shop.

At first he sat at her table. The place had been busy and there was nowhere else for him to put his coffee cup with the books he was holding. He was polite of course and asked her permission first. She of course was polite back and nodded her head, absorbed in a book she was reading. He made polite conversation and flirted mildly and she responded finding she enjoyed his attention. He was very attractive. Tall, dark and handsome with chocolate brown eyes and long dark lashes with a sexy breathy accent that reminded her of Antonio Banderas in the film “Zorro”.

That first encounter led to them meeting again a few times by accident at the same coffee shop and eventually by casual arrangement each lunch time. If they were there at the same time, they would sit together.

Both worked not far away. She worked mornings in a bookshop and always had a coffee to kill time, before catching the train home. He was a lawyer but sometimes had afternoons free from clients.

Then one day, the coffee shop was full and as her train wasn’t due yet, he invited her to his penthouse suite. She hesitated but allowed him to persuade her. She was bowled over by the beautifully decorated home. The colour schemes were shades of beiges, reds, browns and yellows that were in keeping with a professional and successful man. It reminded her of autumn colours.

The high rise apartment looked out on the skyline of the city and the view was stunning against the blue sky.

Inside, the ceiling had wooden oak beams and a loft conversation that could be used when needed. There was a beige, comfortable and luxurious settee that could easily convert into a bed, should he wish.

The lighting hung from the ceiling and was supported by soft spot lights embedded in to the beams. It screamed luxury and expense.

His kitchen was open plan and was black, white and chrome. Adequate for all his needs.

He made their coffee and explained it was his business home for when he worked late. He actually lived elsewhere but found it useful for work.

Again he flirted mildly and would gently touch her as they chatted. He made her feel attractive and interesting. They began to meet more and more often at his penthouse, rather than the coffee shop and then one day, he kissed her. She tried to push him away but he knew it was half hearted.

He took hold of her hands and held them firmly behind her back. He plundered her mouth while one hand moved slowly back, up around her body and fondled both her breasts. His tongue invaded her mouth as he squeezed her breasts. She moaned and eventually responded to him. Then he broke the canlı bahis kiss, pushing her back by his hand still on her tit so she was pinned against the wall and him.

He bought his other hand to her other breast, kneading both over her blouse watching her cheeks flush in embarrassment as he enjoyed her. “You are beautiful,” he murmured.

He felt her some more. “Open your blouse, show me your tits,” he said softly in his sexy accent.

“What! No, no,” she said shocked.

“Yes, yes.” He smiled, “I know you want me to see them, I know you are turned on right now.” He leaned in closer, “I know that you are wet between your legs. Show me your tits or I will take your panties off and you will have to go home without them.”

She felt flushed with embarrassment but was excited too and deep down, she wanted him to see her. The thought of going home pantie-less was unthinkable. With trembling fingers she opened the buttons on her blouse one by one as he stood watching her until her blouse hung loosely on her shoulders.

She was wearing a front fastening bra. He inspected it and told her, “Open it”

She did as he said. She felt empowered when she heard his sharp intake of breath. Her breasts fell free, fully rounded, nipples peaked and naked to his gaze. “Beautiful,” he murmured

He slowly bought his hands up and felt her thoroughly. She had never been so turned on in her life as he worshipped her tits, making her feel desired. He groped and squeezed and massaged and suckled her until she cradled his head to her.

Then she came to her senses and pushed him away and ran, rushing through the door to get away. His seductive laughter followed in her wake as she fastened up to become the respectable woman again.

That’s all they did, the first time. She should have ended it there, but she didn’t. She felt compelled to see him, was fascinated by him and enjoyed the feeling of being desired.

Groping her breasts became part of the coffee ritual as did the stolen kisses.


Her head bumped on the window bringing her out of her reverie and she ground her head on the window again, smudging the condensation and feeling the coolness. It was a feeble attempt to quell the heat that rose within her.

She found her arm had slipped into the waist band of her skirt, her hand had delved down and inside her panties, teasing the wet folds of her sex.

“God, what was she doing, touching herself on a train?” her conscience tried to admonish her, but she knew she was incapable of stopping now and her fingers rebelliously sought the protective hood that hid her clitoris. She circled it with her wet middle finger. It felt too good.

She squirmed in her seat and pushed her pussy up onto her fingers. She broke out into a damp sexual sweat and mewled softly. Her body reacting to her errant lusty thoughts as they returned to him and what had happened that day.


She had met him as usual at his apartment and he had welcomed her in. This time, he had offered her red wine and a lunchtime sandwich which she had eaten gratefully. She had been very hungry. That first glass of wine, turned into a second and then a third. She was pleasantly relaxed and a little drunk as he sat next to her and kissed her.

Her inhibitions seemed jaded and she had sluttishly responded to his kisses and allowed him to push her down on to the settee. He hovered over her, slowly undoing her blouse and unhooking her bra. He expertly seduced her, stroking and kissing her body, her neck and torso and then her mouth.

He whispered, “You are a beautiful woman. You drive me wild with desire. I want you. I need you” His breath softly caressed her ear, followed by his tongue turning her on. She was lost in his world of soft caresses and aching need.

He inched her skirt up and found she was wearing pantyhose. She felt embarrassed and wondered if he would approve. It seemed he did for he cupped her sex and moaned into her mouth. His hand ground into her over her clothing and ignited her sex into a throbbing mass.

He teased her and felt the dampness of her desire seep through her panties and tights and onto his hand.

He chuckled when he felt her natural instinct was to grind wantonly on to his palm, pressing her clitoris on to the heel of his hand.

He leaned in to her ear again. His body by her side now, half on her, half on the settee. His leg trapped the nearest one to him. His shoulder trapped one of her arms. His active hand pushed the other leg wider, letting it hang on the floor and returned to torture her swollen sex.

He masturbated her slowly, moving his hand up and down. She moved with him delightfully and he knew she was his for the taking.

He wanted her complete surrender though, he wanted her to voice her need, acknowledge her lust for him. He wanted no repercussions for fucking her.

He bahis siteleri blew softly in her ear and murmured in his sexy accent, “Tell me what you want, I want you to tell me in graphic detail.” His tongue made his words more enticing by dragging it slowly and wetly around her inner ear.

She tried to fight it, she knew it was against her strict upbringing but she also knew it excited her more. She found her head leaning towards him and pleasant shivers down her neck responding to him.

“Tell me,” he demanded softly.

“I want you!” she relented breathing hard.

“Not good enough,” he persevered. “Say it.”

“I want you to eat me, I want you to fuck me,” she blushed at the unfamiliar dirty words that formed on her lips. His hand ground harder on her sex. She moaned.

“Where?” he pushed for more, still tonguing her ear.

“My pussy, I want you to eat my pussy,” she succumbed.

“What else is it called?” He was enjoying the fact this wanton woman was using words that were barely in her vocabulary. He wanted more from her. He wanted to shake her inhibitions to hell and back.

She struggled to think of another word as his hand and tongue relentlessly teased her.


The train suddenly stopped to collect more people. Luckily no one chose her compartment. She strained her neck and could see them get on through the central door windows in the centre of the train’s aisle.

Her hand had stilled between her legs in case she had to remove it quickly but she didn’t, thank goodness and sighed in relief. She was feverish with her desire as she remembered him pushing her mind as well as her body in his seduction. He had excited her so much.

She began to stroke her sex again. The word he had forced from her, made her blush and flush again in excitement.

She was back in her memory, moaning softly to herself in her lone carriage.


“What else is it called?” He had said, pushing her to her limits.

The moment the word had suddenly exploded in triumph in her brain, it had been expelled from her lips, “Cunt, I want you to eat my cunt. I want you to fuck my cunt”

He kissed her thoroughly. “Good Girl, Good Slut!” He commended her and immediately ripped a hole in her pantyhose so he could reach her “cunt” as a reward. He pushed her panties to the side and plunged two fingers in to her straight away.

He felt her drip in excitement at his teasing. He pushed right into her body and began to finger fuck her in a steady, commanding rhythm. She moaned in rapture and lifted her hips to take him deep as he pushed into her.

He played with her, enjoying her writhing hip next to his crotch. She was teasing the hardness in his bulging pants without even realising it.

Then he tipped her up. She was face up, with legs bent over as though in a partially complete backward roll. He tugged her skirt so it gathered out the way at her waist. He bottom and sex were facing up, presented to him to do as he wished.

He tore the hole bigger, in her nylons covering her sex so it exposed her anus too. He held her panties to the side and “ate her cunt” just like she had asked him to.

Her pussy was trimmed with blonde tight curls. He liked it. A new fresh pussy always excited him. A new fresh married pussy added to the forbidden mix and he briefly wondered the last time her husband had paid her such attention. He loved she had nylons on for him to tear. He kissed her sex deeply, rubbed his lips in her sweet nectar and nuzzled his nose against her sensitive bud. His tongue explored her thoroughly. She whimpered but was trapped in the position she was in. He tasted her uniqueness and detected the fresh scent of the shower she had had that morning.

Then he parted her sex so he could see her pink inner flesh and dragged his tongue inside. He rimmed the entrances to her pussy and anus, taking his time and kneading her buttocks. He could see from his position she was watching him, before blushing and closing her eyes.

Her small mewls and whimpers betrayed her desire. He knew she wasn’t far from orgasm as she panted for him. His lips moved to suckle her clitoris and he plunged his fingers inside both her openings. He wanted that surrender but not yet.

He slowed his teasing and sat her up. Then pulled her to her knees. She was a lovely sight, kneeling before him, breasts hanging free from her blouse and bra. He pushed the blouse off her shoulders to her elbows and pushed her bra up so he could see them.

“Lift your skirt up to your waist. I want to see you exposed to me,” he ordered softly.

She did so, tucking it up carefully. She blushed again and knew she must look like a wanton slut she had seen once in a magazine belonging to her brother, many years before when she helped her mother tidy the house. She had quickly hidden it again under the mattress.

She looked bahis şirketleri up to find he had taken his erection from his suit trousers. He had undone them and had stroked himself whilst she had adjusted her skirt. He took hold of her hair and guided her head to him.

“Open, your mouth. Make it like a cunt,” he instructed. His wicked accented words rang in her ears and caused her libido to rise again as she complied.

He pushed his shaft in her mouth and began to thrust, slowly at first but each thrust went deeper till the tip of his cock caused her to gag as he cut off her air supply and her natural swallowing action kicked in. She drooled and tried to push him off but he held her hair fast, his cock lodged in her throat.

He was so big as he held her face against his crotch and her nose buried in his dark wiry pubic hair.

Then he withdrew again and she could breathe. Again and again he plundered her head and throat until she had learned to time her breathing to accommodate him. He fucked her faster and then slowed until he withdrew completely. She tasted his precum in her drool.

He stood her up and kissed her deeply and caressed her pussy again. She was wet with desire and she was soon moaning again.

“Say what you want,” he murmured in her ear.

“Fuck my cunt,” she answered not caring about anything now, except the wicked man in her arms.

He smiled and led her to a table, over which on a wall behind, hung a big mirror.

He turned her round so she could see their reflection and held her tightly against him. They both watched as his hands kneaded her breasts and massaged her pussy.

The reflection was wicked, and showed the desire in her flushed body and open stance. Her mouth was open and eyes wide. She was panting and squirming against him.

“You are a beautiful, sexy little vixen,” he nuzzled into her ear.

Then he bent her over, pulled her panties aside and drove his cock up to the hilt into her pussy. The force of the movement caused her to automatically put her hands out on the table.

He pulled her hair so she could watch him fuck her in the mirror. She felt full as he stretched her tight channel. She looked incredible. The well-spoken, demure little house wife wanting his cock.

Then he fucked her, directing one of her hands to play with her own pussy, her clitoris and to feel his cock pounding her.

The coupling was hot and urgent. It was a build-up of all those flirtatious meetings in the coffee shop, here in the penthouse and the stolen kisses and naughty gropes.

This was what was promised. This was the result. This was their forbidden lust.

She had never felt so desired in her life. She had never been treated like such a creature of lust and she had never been so turned on in her life. His cock felt wonderful inside her. Her fingers teased and circled her clit. The taste of his cock still on her tongue.

She saw her face in her throes of passion. She looked sexy, wicked and hot as hell. He looked amazing. She liked his fucking, arrogant look.

And with that, she toppled into her orgasm, stretching and spasming on his cock embedded inside of her. She moaned in a high pitched whimper as she rippled along his rod, trembling and shaking.

He felt the change in her and thrust deeper, succumbing to his own greed as he felt her jerk and stiffen on him. With a growl of satisfaction, he jettisoned his seed into her. Both reaching their peak at the same time and riding on the waves of their urgent passion.


Back on the train, reliving the union of that day was incredible. She arched her back and came right there on the public train. She stifled her whimpers and felt the ripples spill out from her clitoris. It sent a warmth throughout her body while she reached the pinnacle of her climax.

She rode the wondrous, crashing waves until they calmed and returned to gentle laps. She lay in the seat till she had caught her breath and unable to resist, she edged her skirt up and looked down.

She saw the evidence of her wickedness and bit her lip again at her naughty secret. The torn pantyhose. The hole and ladders at her crotch and ass. The sopping panties of her orgasm and his semen. And of course this most recent climax where her pussy was still humming with satisfaction! She flexed her pelvic floor revelling in her pleasure.

“You naughty little slut,” her conscience derided her. “And on top of everything, you just masturbated on the train home!”

She smiled to herself. She knew she should feel bad, she knew she should end it. She lowered her skirt again and hid her impious behaviour. She straightened her clothing and coat around her.

She looked respectful again now. She looked like the good little housewife she was who had a wonderful family, a stable husband and a part time little job in a book shop.

“Perhaps, you should never judge a book by its cover,” she retorted to her angelic conscience and as she reached her stop to get off, the little devil on her shoulder did a joyous cartwheel and a smiling victory dance.

The End.

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