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Tunnels, Tracks, and Trains

Date: 2/21/2016, Categories: Hardcore, Author: Alexandra_A, Rating: , Source: LushStories

hand of the punk, she giggled like a little girl, 'You won't believe it dearie, but I have a tattoo just like that one.' Sunlight assaulted me. The stuttering shadows of trees riled my retinae.The shameful hum of arousal receded and the rumbling train's monotone once again took over. Shame. Yes. I was so full of it, I overflowed. Sometimes so crammed full of it, I could have burst. The shocking memories still haunted me. Long-dead and deeply-buried, the past still regularly rose up and taunted me. And yet fortune had singled me out and saved me. A distant chance meeting on a train had irrevocably changed my life. I glanced at the young man sitting opposite, suppressed another wave of arousal and quietly chuckled at the reality: despite my refined, irreproachable appearance, inside I was a sexually rampant schoolgirl and always would be. Diddle-de-dum became did; dle; de; dum. Grey stone. Arches. Wasteland. Red brick. Grimy windows and doors. Polyester-cotton rainbows and gleaming smiles; benches, signs, and dark blue uniforms. We lurched. We slowed. We stopped. The stranger stood, reached up for his case then paused and smiled down at me. 'I'm sorry, but I just realised I know you. Please excuse my rudeness...' I smiled quizzically into his smooth young face then nodded with no small amount of bemusement. 'Yes, yes. No, please, excuse me. Richard, isn't it?' 'It is!' 'The...' I paused for exactly the right length of time while twisting my pursed lips, 'Simmonds case. Old ... Bailey. Four... five years ago?' Another perfect pause, 'July?' He was incredulous. 'How would you remember me? I was just a junior!' Despite my throbbing pulse, I calmly issued my stock answer. 'It is my job to remember detail.' As he tilted his head, a joint cracked softly. He reached up and absently massaged his cervical spine. 'You in Town for long?' I nodded then stood and reached for my briefcase. His raised palm and matching eyebrows stilled me. Stretching up to where my case lay snared in the netted rack, he tugged and freed it. Our hands first met on its plush leather handle. I realised I was sweating. 'Thank you.' I smiled coyly. 'You are a gentleman.' 'I try, try so hard, though admit I sometimes fail.' His eyes and the gentle wrinkles around them told me so much about him. He was married. Had kids. Was loving. Sporty. Diligent. Intelligent. Thoughtful. Hard working. And he loved to fuck older women. The card I produced from my inside pocket carelessly caressed a very hard nipple before it saw the light of day. I was still trembling as I placed it in his waiting hand. The card, that is. Not the nipple. What must you think of me? Again we touched, standing so close we could already have been lovers. 'Call me if you're at a loose end. We could have dinner?' The schoolgirl whispered with incongruous innocence. 'And you could fuck my tight arse.' The punk added angrily, 'And piss in my face.' The milf sounded equally miffed. 'Hey, what about me? Fist me while I choke on ...