Mind The Gap

Amy and I met friends for an Indian meal last Saturday. It was our first night out since we got back from honeymoon and we took the Underground so we could enjoy a drink. Amy does love a fruity Pinot Gris.

By the time the food arrived, Amy had polished off half a bottle and was getting quite as fruity as the wine. She rubbed my bulging cock through my jeans and wasn't subtle about it, either. Bob and Jenny must have guessed what she was up to.

We caught the 23:27 home—a deserted, rickety old train with high-backed seats that provided plenty of privacy. As soon as we sat down, Amy kissed me hard, shoving her tongue deep into my mouth.

I mauled her mammoth tits through her blouse and slipped a hand up her skirt to finger her pussy. She was dripping wet and smelled ripe. She struggled to unbutton my fly, took out my cock, and wanked it furiously while we kissed.

The train pulled into a station and I lay my jacket over my lap. Amy kept her hand movements small until the train jerked back to life then she leaned over and ducked her head under my jacket. I was doing my best on her pussy, but found it hard to concentrate.

Amy was past caring when the train next stopped. So was I, come to think of it. I stifled a cry and filled her mouth before the train started moving again. She swallowed every drop then lifted her head from my lap, looked me in the eye, and smiled. She wiped a drop of semen from the corner of her mouth and with wicked look in her eye, she sucked her finger clean.

"Hmm, Saltier than usual. Must have been the curry."