Serena couldn’t contain herself any longer. She’d desperately been trying to focus on the magazine, but had utterly failed. She could feel his eyes roving all over her body again, the good-looking one a few rows down, the walking (but currently seated) cock. Every time she peeked up he looked straight back at her, a tickle of a smile ghosting his lips. Typically men would glance away before she could meet their eyes, in a pretence that they hadn’t been staring at her. But not this one. He was a handsome bastard and knew it full well.
Minutes ago, when a space became vacant, he’d relocated from the window to the corridor end of the bench with the sole intent of being better able to ogle her legs and tits. She knew this because his gaze was open, obvious and without the merest hint of embarrassment. He wore a wedding ring, a thick, evident gold band. But he didn’t seem to care about his marital status and frankly, neither did Serena. She knew it was wrong, knew she would hate herself the instant after he pulled out, but she just couldn’t help it.
Because she had one fundamental problem in life. Although her husband earned plenty of money he simply hadn’t fucked her enough, but then no man could. He’d also been a pretty dull and unimaginative partner, permanently tired or recovering after extended hours in the office. On the rare occasions Serena had coaxed enough life into James’s cock with a long blowjob she’d usually ended up climbing on top for, if she’d been lucky, a whole two minutes. Enough time for him to find release, but utterly pointless for her, who’d barely got going.
Then he’d come out and all had made sense.
So Serena had started to look elsewhere for satisfaction and quickly found she could obtain it whenever and wherever she wanted. To be frank, what woman couldn’t if she put her mind to it? Men are always willing participants. Any lingering doubts that she’d had about her extramarital activities were soon pushed to the back of her mind, vaginal instincts surging to the forefront. As Serena didn’t work (being fully provided for by her hard-working husband) she could fuck other people several times a day if she wanted. However, because the sex was readily available, even this had become boring and she needed to look for ever-increasing thrills and bigger risks to get off. And now here she was.
Serena glanced at her watch. About 20 minutes before they arrived at Kings Cross. Long enough to get what she wanted, too long to resist even though she knew she really should because within the hour some doctor would be probing her internal passages. Serena made up her weak mind, fixed her soon-to-be encounter with a firm and meaningful look, then stood up. She threaded her way through the people standing in the corridor and past him, lightly touching his shoulder as they crossed, just in case he’d missed the most obvious of hints.
When she reached the toilet she glanced over her shoulder and saw handsome guy coming towards her, a huge and soon-to-be-satisfied grin stitched on his face. Serena almost turned away then, but the urges had too hard a hold of her. She steeled herself, entered the stall and awaited his knock, which couldn’t come fast enough.
Jack elbowed his way to the toilet. People were getting out of the way far too slowly in comparison to his needs so he decided a more direct approach was needed.
“Can you shift it love, I’m busting for a shit here,” he said to an ancient woman who must have at least been in her forties. She stepped back a pace, aghast.
He reached the toilet, too late. The sign said engaged. He swore and tried the handle anyway, rattling it vigorously. It didn’t budge. Of all the fucking luck, he thought.
“Emergency! Man about to explode in his pants out here!” Jack shouted, banging his fist on the door in vain hope.
Serena wished the man in her would explode too. She’d opened the door at Handsome Guy’s urgent knock and stepped back as he slid through the crack, pushing it to behind him. Handsome Guy turned and locked the door again, then went straight for her tits. Men, she knew, were divided into those who were tit-fixated (and had usually been breast-fed as babies) or arse-obsessed (no idea what they’d been brought up on!) with about a two-thirds, one-third split respectively from her quite extensive analysis. Sometimes you got both (i.e. men with hands that could act independently) but that was much rarer as it implied he could do two things at once.
After yanking open her top and spilling her breasts out of her bra Handsome Guy had gone straight for the kill, turning Serena around, pushing her head down (fortunately the toilet lid was closed) and pulling up her skirt in one swift movement. Her knickers proved only a minor impediment and she grinned and grimaced at the same time as she heard and felt the rip of lace.
Without any preamble he slid inside (fortunately she was already wet from trying to fight her inner urges) and began banging away. And banging away. And banging away. Serena looked pointedly at her watch, only five minutes before the train arrived. The pumping suddenly speeded up for a few seconds and then abruptly stopped. One last jerk and he pulled out.
“That was cool,” Handsome Guy said.
Serena turned around, and found him already zipped up and ready to go.
“See you again,” he said insincerely, unlocked the door, opened it wide this time, and stepped outside. Serena saw a face in the corridor, barely a smudge of shock, before she pushed the door to and locked it. That was it. She wasn’t even sure she’d had an orgasm. She looked down at her torn knickers discarded in a shambolic heap on the floor and already the guilt and shame were hitting her as hard the guy’s hips had pounded her pelvic bone only moments before. She picked up the decimated underwear, ran them under the tap, rinsed the excess water out of the material, then cleaned herself up before finally drying off her pussy with a couple of rough paper towels that did her bruised lips no good at all.
Practical issues dealt with she flopped down onto the toilet. At that moment she hated her vagina, wished she could scream for a surgeon and have it amputated there and then, the amount of trouble it caused her. Probably Handsome Guy was already laughing with his mates about the tart he’d just shagged. And that’s what she felt like. A slapper, completely out of control. Driven by urges one minute, eaten up by them the next.
She felt the train slowing, heard the intermittent squeal of brakes as they were applied. She checked her watch. The train was late (as usual) but she couldn’t face exiting into the tangle of people outside the toilet who must have heard her antics, so she resolved to wait for a few minutes after the train stopped. But it couldn’t be much longer, otherwise she’d miss her appointment.
Jack was also, finally, in a toilet, but he was flying solo. Trousers around his ankles he had decided to have a quick wank after the very satisfying and odorous dump he had delivered. He figured a five-finger (strictly four fingers and a thumb) shuffle was acceptable as no one would want to come in and smell the brown roses anyway. Almost done and toilet paper ready to catch his ejaculation, he felt the jerk of the train as it pulled into the station. The sudden movement completely threw him of his stride.
He then experienced the familiar feeling all men have had of interrupted self-pleasure. As this usually occurs when the wife or girlfriend enters the bathroom uninvited (then quickly leaves in disgust) it was not something Jack was used to as he’d never had the pleasure (literally) of a girlfriend.
He tried to tug some life back into his cock, but it sagged all the more under the pressure to perform in the now difficult and focused circumstances. He sighed and admitted defeat. He pulled his trousers up and notched his belt whilst he listened at the door. He couldn’t hear any movement out there so he slid back the bolt and sidled out. Thankfully the corridor was empty. He stepped off the train in the manner he imagined dirty old men in raincoats who didn’t want to be identified departed brothels. Looking up the platform towards the exit he fancied he recognised that bloke Josh he’d been talking to earlier. He called out his name whilst breaking into a loping gait in an attempt to track the banker down, but in the swollen exodus Jack quickly lost sight of his newfound friend.