No City Limits

Nearly two years ago I took the overland train from London Bridge to Charing Cross to meet a married friend with whom I was having an on/off fling. It was a very hot, sunny late-afternoon, and I managed to grab one of the few remaining seats in the packed carriage. It was in the middle of a row, and opposite and just to my right was a pretty, petite, black-haired Indian girl, maybe late teens, maybe early twenties, in trainers, black linen trousers and a tight, red t-shirt. I tend to go for bigger girls, but she quickly responded to my initial glance with very direct and somehow dangerous looks, and I just couldn't ignore her.

It's only a short journey so I suppose we knew we had to work fast to send the right signals - and by the time the train pulled over the Thames and next to the platform, we'd got into a smiling and staring competition, occasionally broken up by laughter and her looking away.

The other, predominantly middle-aged and soberly-dressed passengers were irritated by the contrast between our new-found thrills and their heat-provoked discomfort - and I was convinced my smiling friend would stay in her seat and wait for them all to rush off in a bother. Even before the train came to a stop, though, she got to her feet with everybody except me, stood in front of my seat - partly blocking the exit of the couple to my right - and leant downwards, caressing and squeezing her pert tits through her t-shirt, with a wide-eyed grin.

I sat there, grinning back up at her and getting hard as plenty of tutting, exclaiming and barging past took place all around. Only when the last person had left did she turn and dash from the train, running towards the concourse.

What else could I do? I followed quickly, caught up with her and took her arm as she turned around.

"Where are you rushing off to?" I smiled.

"I'm meeting a friend."

She watched me presume that all this had been about getting herself horny and ready to fuck somebody else - somebody who probably wouldn't fancy involving a stranger - before adding: "We're late as it is." She grinned again.

And then her friend was there: a similarly petite Indian girl in a black t-shirt and sandy, knee-length skirt. Her hair was dark brown and short and her eyes were as confident as her collaborator's. "It's so hot, Nina," was all she said; there were no introductions, not even between themselves, and it suddenly struck me that both their brown skins were flawless. I was recovering and about to suggest we grab some champagne, head for St James Park and lose some clothes, when the friend got in first, not addressing me. "You've found a white one," she smiled; and then to me: "This way;" and she grabbed my hand and, half-running, led me down the packed, left-hand exit, Nina jogging behind.

We stopped at the off-licence just inside the front of the station.

"Get some beers, we'll be down the steps on the left."

They ran off again, and when I came outside, having butted in at the front of the queue and having gotten very agitated while the cashier slowly, far too slowly, opened the bottles, I couldn't see them anywhere.

I headed for the downward steps and as I reached the top, there they were about a third of the way down, Nina leaning against the wall with her legs stretched across the step, and her friend sat in the middle of a lower step looking up. I sat between them and handed out the beers.

"It's our college project, you see," Nina mock-explained. "We have to take pictures of me wanking 19 cocks, one for every year of my life, as they shoot lots of nice, sticky cum everywhere. " She laughed. "So if you wouldn't mind getting yours out..."

I thought they'd collapse in even more laughter, but they didn't move another muscle till Nina's friend reached into her bag for a throwaway camera and sarcastically said, "Don't be shy, now."

So here I was, at rush hour, at a London train station, in probably the only four square feet that weren't visible to people above or below - and that was only because nobody else was using the steps and because Not-Nina was blocking the upward view - being asked by two cute, audacious teenage girls to let one of them make me cum for a photograph...

I took a long swig of the beer and put the bottle down. "You'd better come here," I insisted, and Nina shifted herself to sit alongside me, both of us facing down at her friend. I undid my buttons and took out my increasingly long, increasingly thick dick. Nina reached for it with her slim, delicate fingers and began wanking me gently, pulling the foreskin back to expose my fat head as it pushed upwards.

I looked at my slab of cock in that small, brown hand and then looked at Not-Nina, who licked and licked her lips in a porno parody while her eyes were hidden behind the camera. She'd already started taking pics when Nina put her free hand behind my shoulders and pulled my mouth on to hers, pushing her sweet tongue into me. I stroked and kneaded those same tits which she'd held towards me earlier, first through her t-shirt, then under it and inside her bra. She felt so soft, so smooth, but her nipples were rock hard. I yanked the t-shirt up further and broke our now manic kissing to force my lips, tongue and teeth around her bare breasts.

I sucked and bit and licked as Nina wanked me furiously. I wanted to be caught, or maybe I just wanted there to be no doubt what was happening should anybody walk by (I was still amazed nobody did but couldn't remember going up and down these steps in a decade of using the station). I heard Nina say, "Go on, Jay, taste him;" and I felt Jay's warm, wet, welcoming mouth around the end of my cock as Nina pumped and pulled me into it.

It must have been quite a while before I heard the inevitable steps. Reflexively I lifted my head from Nina's tits and looked behind me, and I saw an elderly, professional man in a dark blue suit with severely pleated trousers and a mass of shopping bags descending. It was as if he came across public threesomes every day - either that or his mind immediately refused to process such things - because he showed no reaction as he made to go around us. Nina checked my face, smiled when I did, and began to wank me even harder. I turned fully forward again, put my hands on Jay's head and pulled her right on to me as I thrusted faster and faster through Nina's fingers and between her lips. At the moment the man was alongside us, Nina laughed and said in a voice that he was meant to hear: "Don't come in her mouth, she's got to take the photo."

He continued regardless, and as I watched him get further away I knew I really wasn't far from coming. I lifted Jay's head off my swollen cock and pushed Nina's there as Jay focused the camera. Nina didn't suck me off but took long lollipop licks from the bottom to the top of my cock and back again as she kept up her fingers' pace.

"Make him cum, Nina; make him spray his hot load all down your face." Those words, indirectly meant for me, were all the encouragement I needed, and the sound of the camera's clicks when I interrupted Nina's flawless, brown cheeks and chin by plastering them with so much white spunk kept me spurting and spurting. As Jay put the camera down Nina leant away from me and began to mop her creamy face with a tissue while her friend cleaned my cock with her tongue.

"You'll have to show me these pics," I breathed, trying to recover my composure but feeling my brain float off as I suddenly realized exactly how exposed we all were to central-city chaos and its mass of pedestrian traffic. I became unbelievably high at the thought as Jay finished licking and stared wildly at me, and I could feel myself already hardening again as the shortest of short-term memories and instinctive unbelief got their wires crossed. Nina helped me to my feet and looked up at me with her wide eyes. I pushed her back against the wall, clasped and rubbed her tits and kissed her as Jay also got to her feet and let out a delighted holler. She pulled me off Nina and french-kissed me with her cum-covered tongue before picking up her bag and haring madly down the steps, followed by her mad friend. They both looked back, waving and shouting, "Bye!" and I sort of knew it was futile to follow. Their agenda was beautifully capricious - and I had to another mind-fuck to get off to.