We currently have stories with more being added every day

F A

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 24 Nov 1997 0 comments
0 likes views Category: Tags:

F A by AnonymousShe preferred Caledonian Road. On a good day the run to Kings Cross took severalminutes. The train wasn't too crowded so she knew she could find a suitable mark and getherself in position. She had become expert at choosing the ones who wouldn't be gettingoff the tube. They stood out - the city types; cocky, full of life, the young money menwho lived life on the edge. They spent their days dealing in millions; they drovePorsches, drank champagne and lived like there was no tomorrow. In 24 hours the bottomcould drop out of the market, they could be broke. Today, they were living life to thefull.At Arsenal (a good name, but not as good as Cockfosters) she noticed a straphanginggood looking Nigerian in smart suit and white shirt. She shifted around until he stooddirectly behind her, her body, already becoming aroused, ready to lean back against him.As the train went round the next curve she made sure he was plastered firmly to her.Politely he edged away with a murmured apology. Not suitable.She was about to move down the carriage when a male body moulded itself to her back.Not the Nigerian, but who? She daren't look over her shoulder. The whole object wasanonymity. If she looked she would break the spell.The unseen torso pressed ever more insistently against her. It felt hard, solid. Withthe nerve endings of her back she traced the outline of abdomen, thighs. Yes, she couldfeel IT nestling snugly in the crevice being pushed in her light cotton skirt. Fullyerect. She was glad she had worn her high, four-inch heels. They lifted her pert cheeksand tightened them to fit even a tall man's prick in the crack between the hemispheres.She always wore skirts that emphasised the heart-shaped curve of her own rear when she waslusting after an encounter.She arched her spine and stretched her legs further apart to widen the tight gapbetween her buttocks. She was rewarded by the feeling of the hidden cock wedging andjabbing between her thighs. Through her light cotton skirt she could clearly feel theglans pressing against her rear end.She wondered wildly if he had unzipped. It wouldn't be the first time. The thought thather thin skirt might be the only barrier between her bare thighs (because she wasn'twearing panties) and a complete stranger's rampant phallus made her throb all over. Shefelt light, like a cork bobbing on water. She squeezed the lips of her sex together andthen relaxed them. This, she knew, tautened and then slackened the muscles of her arsewhch surrounded the caged cock. It twitched in response. She squeezed again and relaxed;she felt the man's breath coming faster and faster on the back of her neck.She glanced around to check the other occupants of the carriage but, as always, theywere gazing into the early morning distance, lost to everything around them.Suddenly, she felt the man's left arm creep round her hip. Her cunt fluttered inexpectation. Fingers slid over her skirt, caressing her abdomen just above her pubic hair.His right hand reached for her shoulder bag. He manoevered it round so it was directly infront of her crotch, masking his exploring fingers. These slid down her skirt and undidthe buttons at the front.His fingers found her labia and separated them. Her slit throbbed, echoed by a pulse atthe back of her throat; she stood impassive, teeth clenched as with increasing arrogancehe fondled her inner lips. She moaned in a mixture of longing and panic. Shortly theywould reach Kings Cross and she would not have made it to orgasm.Sensing her heat and impatience the finger moved deeper; at the same time his thumbmaintained its pressure on the centre of her being. The combination of deep penetrationand sensitive stroking of her super-ready clit made her explode. Her jaw locked to preventher crying out; she experienced an orgasm that lasted such a short time, yet was asintense as she usually had after long preparation.The train stopped at Kings Cross and she realised he had gone. She had never seen hisface, she simply had an impression of a tall, taut body, business suit, greying hair.Shakily, she got off at Holborn and stumbled down Kingsway to her office. It was atmoments like this, after her orgasm had quitened, that she began to think about how muchher public transport escapades might be putting her career on the line. She had foughtlong and hard to get to her position as a senior manager in her public relations firm. Shewas not the typical woman executive. Although attractive, she had a slightly waspish air.Her mouth sometimes turned dowm at the edges and men could find her apparent manneroff-putting. However, nature had endowed her with high, taut, almost perfect breasts, longlegs, and a rump that curved in that beautiful question-mark which men found soattractive. It seemed as if her body had been made for the sole purpose of her Londontransport encounters where total strangers could be attracted to her glorious body withoutbeing aware of the sometimes forbidding appearance she presented. It wasn't until she satbehind her desk, relaxed, and reached into her shoulder bag for a tissue that she realisedher purse was missing. At first she was mildly irritated. She carried little money and hercards were of no use without the PIN numbers. Then she panicked; she realised that thestranger had fumbled with her purse during the encounter on the train. The realizationchilled her - he could identify her, but she knew nothing at all about him. As if thethought had sent out a signal, the private phone on her desk rang. She knew it was himeven before she picked up the phone."I have your purse," he said "and I would like to help you""You thievingbastard," she raged "I'll ring the police now and tell them..""Tell them what? That you got so worked up at thefeeling of my fingers in your cunt that you dropped your purse and then abused me when Itried to return it to you?"She fell silent. She didn't know what to say."This is not blackmail" he went on. He was well-spoken and his voice was softand soothing. She felt more comfortable. "We want to give you back your purse andexplain what we can do for you. You will come to no harm. Afterwards, you may even thankus. But if you report this to the police, we will have no hesitation in making sure thatyour employers know about your London Transport pastime"."Believe me, we mean you only well. Come and meet us tonight. Hear us out"She wavered. Could she trust this man who spoke of "We"."Who are you" she said."We are F A" was his reply "You need toknow no more. Be on the corner of Fleet Street at seven o'clock this evening. Have nofear, you will come to no harm."