I made the last train home with minutes to spare. Out of breath and feet killing me in the heels that looked great but were not designed for a dash across the station, I made my way down to the least crowded carriage.
The nearest group of seats was occupied by a large group of boys of about my own age. My appearance was greeted with loud, suggestive comments, as the cocky and obviously worse-for-wear 18–19-year-olds eyed me up as I walked down the carriage in a pink two-piece mesh mini dress. The dress had a cowl neck halter and was exposed down to the small of my back. The cowl neck ran open to my pierced belly button, revealing my taut stomach and a strapless sheen knit bra adorned with an oval silver buckle. The dress’s bottom half panel had a thigh split that ran almost to my hip. Underneath it, I had on a black G-string, and my bare legs ran down to a pair of black peep-toe high heels.
I ignored the offer to join them and kept walking to find a seat at the other end. Horny and slightly frustrated I might have been, but I could do without their company. The furthest group of seats had a single occupant; a middle-aged businessman with pepper grey hair, dressed in an expensive suit and obviously on his way home after a long day in the office.
He looked up and smiled politely when I plopped down onto the seat opposite him. But whilst the smile was polite enough, his eyes swept over the exposed flesh of my tight young body, before he looked back at his phone. Still buzzing slightly from the alcohol after a night in the pub with some girlfriends, I decided to have a little fun.
Leaning back in the seat, I pushed my firm boobs out slightly and slowly crossed my legs, so that the dress rode up and the split felt open. Immediately, the businessman’s eyes lifted from the screen and onto my exposed thighs. Got you, I thought triumphantly, uncrossing and then very slowly recrossing my legs, and watching with amusement as he tried not to make his glances too obviously.
Twirling a strand of my long black hair in my fingers, and with a slight pout of my plump lips, I pretended to stare out the window. Immediately, his attention turned to the swell of my firm, young boobs and the exposed, spray-tanned flesh of my washboard-tight stomach and shapely thighs.
Feigning ignorance of his attention, I slowly turned my head to look out of the other window; catching the movement of his Adam’s apple when I uncrossed my legs and parted my legs slightly to present him with a tantalising glimpse of the black G-string. Aside from amusing me, I was feeling increasingly turned on by teasing the posh businessman.
At the next stop, the group of lads got off and made their way down the platform, grinning and waving at me as they went. Ignoring them, I rolled my eyes at the older and quite good-looking bloke. He smiled conspiratorially, before returning to his phone. Reaching into his briefcase, he pulled out some ear pods and placed them in his ears. Almost immediately, moans and groans came from the phone’s speaker. Unable to help myself, I let out a giggle. The man’s head jerked up in surprise and our eyes met.
“You need to check you have Bluetooth enabled and the ear pods linked to it,” I winked, moving across to sit next to him, my leg brushing against trousered thigh. Reaching forward, I tilted the phone’s screen so that the video clip was more obvious.
“I’m so sorry,” the middle-aged man stammered, blushing furiously. As he attempted to click off the link, I shook my head and put my hand on his to stop him.
“Have you got a thing for chavs,” I murmured, eyes full of wicked amusement and my sense of arousal growing. His blush deepened and the businessman looked increasingly flustered whilst the video continued to play, with the accompanying sound track blaring out from the speaker.
“I mean, she is quite fit,” I commented, indicating to the video of the girl riding an older man whilst moaning loudly. “But you have the real thing sitting next to you,” I continued huskily, running my fingers over the crotch of his expensive trousers. The poor man had no idea where to look, let alone what to say, as he felt me deftly unzip him and pull out his rapidly hardening manhood.
“Would you like me to ride you like that,” I whispered, closing fingers around his shaft. He let out a low moan of anguished arousal when I began to stroke his now rock-hard cock; the video continuing to play loudly on the phone he held in a trembling hand. “Right here, on your train journey home,” I purred, my fist tight around his veiny girth.
“Then you can go home to your wife, having left me full of your cum; not even knowing my name,” I murmured, feeling his hand push my legs apart, and his fingers work their way up between them. His eyes were closed, his breathing tight, his cock throbbing as I worked him with deliberate movements of my wrist.
Releasing my grip, I rose from the seat. Grasping his trousers, I pulled them and his boxers down into a pool around his highly polished black shoes. His cock twitched and he let out a low groan of strained sexual tension, watching me hike my dress up around my slim waist.
Straddling him, I positioned myself with my feet dangling over the edge of the grimy seat. Raising up, I slid the G-string to one side, reached down, and guided the middle-aged stranger’s throbbing manhood between the slick folds of my labia. “Oh my God, that feels good,” I purred, slowly impaling myself on him.
Placing my small hands on his broad shoulders, I took a moment to adjust to his cock being buried inside me. Then, holding his wide-eyed gaze, I began gently gyrating on his lap; pushing my pelvis forward and tensing the muscles of my wall, so that it tightened around this rigid shaft.
Groaning with lust, the businessman reached out and tugged my bra down, freeing my mounds of firm soft flesh. As he fondled my boobs, I began to grind myself against his pelvis. “Feel good being fucked by a council house tart,” I whispered, moving across the middle-aged man’s lap in a series of fluid gyrations.
“Bet those posh birds wouldn’t bounce on your dick in a train carriage,” I moaned, breaking into a rhythm of slow, determined grinding motions, pressing hard against his pelvis as I dragged myself across his lap. Hands kneading my perfectly round tits, his eyes half closed, the businessman was reduced to letting out a series of strangled sobs in time with my movements.
A movement made me look up, to see the obscenely fat ticket inspector standing in the carriage doorway. Piggy eyes wide and an obvious tent in his uniform trousers, he was almost drooling as he leered at me with his flabby mouth hanging open.
My eyes on the ticket inspector, I leant forward, placing my hands on the back of the seat and pressing my boobs into the middle-aged man’s face. “That’s it; play with my firm young tits whilst I ride your married cock,” I moaned, winking at the fat man. Gripping the back of the seat for balance, I bounced up and down on the hard meat buried deep inside me, whilst the man I was riding took my rock-hard nipples between his lips, and bit, teased, and sucked on each in turn.
“I love fucking older married men and making them cum inside me,” I sobbed, looking straight at the ticket inspector, who was rubbing his crotch with a pudgy hand. Beneath me, his breathing laboured now, the businessman released my tortured nipples; head back against the seat rest, he was driving up into me in time with every forward movement of my hips.
“Oh, God; I’m going to cum,” he whimpered; his chest heaving, and his breathing shallow and fast. I could feel his cock swelling as the tension built in his loins and he approached climax.
“Cum for me,” I hissed, feeling his hands digging into my slim hips. “Fill this dirty little chav with your posh cum,” I goaded; boobs rippling with each determined thrust of my pelvis as I rode him vigorously. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the fat pervert trembling with excitement as he ground fleshy fingers over his crotch.
“Oh fuck, I'm cumming," the middle-aged man groaned, his cock jolting and twitching as he flooded my belly with his semen. I slowed and held myself still on his lap as he slumped back on the seat, chest heaving and a sheen of perspiration on his brow.
"Mmmm, I needed that dick inside me," I purred, dismounting from him and pulling down my dress. The ticket inspector had slunk back from the carriage doorway, and I noticed we were pulling into the next station.
“Shit, this is my stop,” he announced in a startled tone, hastily pulling his trousers up and straightening his tie. Collecting up his things, he thrust them into his briefcase and began to make for the door. “Ummm, well; I mean; thank you,” he mumbled, with a shrug of embarrassment and gratitude.
“You’re welcome, mate,” I winked, blowing him a kiss from my seat, “enjoy the rest of your evening at home with the wife.”
As soon as the train pulled away from the station, the ticket inspector reappeared, with a menacingly lecherous look on his fat face. “You have a choice. Either I call the transport police to meet us at the next stop, or you suck my cock,” he sneered, looming over me with an obvious tent in his trousers that he did nothing to conceal.
“Not much of a choice, really, is it, you fat wanker,” I sighed, unbuckling his belt and reaching for his zip. Tugging his trousers and briefs down over his fleshy thighs, I left him standing with his arse exposed and his surprising large member bouncing in front of my face.
With a look a disgust, I closed my slender fingers in a fist around the ugly shaft and worked it with firm, fast movements. “No, no, no. You don’t get off that easily,” he muttered with a shake of his jowls, “get your lips around my knob.” Sighing, I dropped my head beneath the overhang of his obscenely large gut and took his manhood into my mouth; my lips sliding down over the veiny lumps beneath the skin on his shaft.
“That’s it; fuck yes, just like that, you little whore,” the ticket inspector groaned, his fat belly quivering with excitement. Placing my small palms on his hairy thighs, I bobbed up and down, hollowing my cheeks and taking him deep into my mouth. Soft clucking noises coming from my mouth, and slender trails of slobber and pre cum running from my lips, I worked him urgently to get him to cum before we reached the next station.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, sweetheart,” he grunted, grabbing my hair with his pudgy fingers and beginning to fuck my face. The fat bloke was right; I was strangely turned on. His cock was growing and throbbing as I gagged on it; my nails digging into his flabby thighs as the grossly overweight man used my throat.
I could see the message running across the screen above the door to the carriage alerting to the imminent arrival at the next station, which was my stop. The lights at the end of the platform came into view as his breathing became more and more laboured, and he hammered away at my face with thrusts of his fleshy hips and wobbly arse; gripping my hair in his fists as I choked on his thick cock.
Just in the nick of time, with a stifled grunt, he held my head firmly in place and spewed his gunk into my mouth, with globules of it splattering against the back of my throat. “Good girl,” he wheezed, releasing me and standing back. “Tell you what, I won’t even ask to see your ticket,” he chuckled, hastily pulling up his trousers, stuffing his sticky member into his briefs, and hauling his belt tight over his distended belly.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I took the proffered wet wipe and removed the smeared lipstick, saliva and cum from my lips and chin. Smoothing down my dress, I grabbed my clutch bag and made for the exit just as the train came to a stop in the station, leaving the ticket inspector leaning against the door, grinning obscenely after me.
“Is that you, Danni?” my mum called from the lounge. Answering, I looked in to see her on the settee with my step-dad, Sean. “Good night,” mum asked, whilst Sean gave me a surreptitious once over.
“Yeah, it was OK.” I smiled, “best bit was I didn’t even have to buy a train ticket.”
“Result,” nodded my step-dad, his eyes roaming over my tight young body.
“Oh, I do like a free ride,” Mandy, my mum, grinned mischievously; my slightly dishevelled state not lost on her.
“Me too, mum; me too,” I winked at her, as I headed to my room.
