Training Day

Had Mark’s mind not been focussed on his release, he might have shared a pun about coming along for the ride. But he couldn’t. In fact, he couldn’t think with any coherence at all. Erica’s passion had consumed and devoured him. As she died a little death in stifled submission, her inner muscles had grasped and sheathed and flexed and squeezed. Without her bidding, she had intimately pleasured him and brought him to the brink of release.

What’s why, when her climax crashed through, it swept Mark along and triggered his own. Teeth clenched, eyes tightly shut, fingers indelibly pressed into Erica’s hips he pressed up and deep and emptied is seed. Savouring the elusive sensations of coming into his lover’s climax was a rare treat. And coming on top of the frisson of taking a complete stranger, in public, on a train, surrounded by commuter zombies and you would have to be made of stone not to overwhelmed.

Mark felt his ball sac tighten and twitch time after time as his semen flooded her womb. He had undergone a vasectomy last year so now he fired blanks, but she didn’t know that. Man, that was hot, knowing that she was taking his load heedless of the risk of pregnancy. Imagine, if in six months time she was still commuting with his child inside. Blossoming into motherhood and hopefully increasing her chances of a seat. He’d never seen a pregnant woman have to stand for long before someone giving their space to her.

Erica felt Mark’s ejaculate pump into her. God, this was insane. She was on the pill and way off her most fertile time anyway but this guy didn’t know that. And yet, here he was blasting away without a care in the world and she didn’t even know his last name. Or even if Mark was his real name. The thought triggered aftershocks of pleasure and she juddered and trembled.

Over sensitised by his recent orgasm, the nerve endings along the length and more importantly the tip of Mark’s penis magnified and intensified the friction between his sex and hers. Mark released Erica and balled his fists to provide any other stimulus and to channel his re-orientation back to reality and the here and now.

The tortured screech of brakes sawed through their heightened state and alerted them to the approach of the first station out of town. This was Mark’s stop but Erica didn’t know that. And her stop was some time off yet but Mark didn’t know that. He took a half step back, maintaining proximity that kept Erica’s skirt bunched and her backside covered.

Mark tilted away to his left that allowed the left side of Erica’s skirt to drop and created enough space for him to withdraw his spent cock and manhandle it back into his trousers. As he slowly zipped again, muffled by the screech of steel on steel, he tilted to the right and allowed Erica’s skirt to drop on that side also.

Whilst her appearance was restored to respectability, her mental state was still somewhat charged and chaotic as she tried to process what had just happened. On a hot summer’s day, she had caught her train home as normal and she had allowed a complete stranger to finger and molest her until ultimately he had violated her most intimately with the very definition of a wham bang thank you ma’am. And yet, as yet, he hadn’t said thank you. For some reason, that was the part that irked her somewhat.

As she felt her panties soak up Mark’s semen, she was about to turn and face him, released as she was from having to press against him to save her modesty. Once more she looked into his eyes and melted and realised that he could have stripped her naked and bent her over the seats to roger her four ways from Sunday. Her studly invader could be forgiven anything.

“Thank you Erica, that was something very special. I’m glad that I bumped into you today. This is my stop but here’s my card because I really hope that we can bump into each other again sometime soon.” And with that, the train drew to a halt, the doors sighed open with a clunk and Mark was bustled into the throng that shuffled their way out.

The disgorged passengers created space and room on the train and Mark’s departure created a space inside Erica. Yes, she had been stuffed with manhood and now that it was gone, her womanhood was adjusting but she missed the thrill and illicitness of what had just happened. When and where and more importantly who was she going to replace it with.

She fingered the edge of the card in her hand before realising that it was there. Erica brought it to her face to read, “Mark Morrison – Investment Manager, Kings Bank”. Well, Mr Morrison, she thought, it would appear that your name is really Mark and because Kings Bank was really well known and successful, if he was an investment manager for them, he was probably successful as well. He could have been a tea boy and she would have called him to see him again but if he was rich also? Well that was a very unexpected bonus. Perhaps she had found her prince. Next time she would kiss him and make sure that he didn’t turn back into a frog.