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All Characters are over the age of 18. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Please enjoy Breakfast!

Blaring sirens going off!

No, scratch that, it’s the damn alarm clock!

Grumbling in my sleep, I rolled over to hit the stupid thing off.

I want to curl back into my sleep, returning to the dreamland of my recent listening to erotic audiobook that got me off last night.

But my eyes widened at the reality check! It’s Monday, and I have a train to catch.


I spring up from my sleeping to horizontal sit up. What time is it?! Another ten minutes already flashed past since the alarm. Damn horny mind has no scale of time!

I moved swiftly into action. I pull the outfit hanging on the back of my door that I set out last night. Smoke grey jacket, matching pencil skirt and stunningly bright red button down blouse shirt. Hm, hoes or no hoes? Fuck it. I grabbed the nude topped laced hold ups, sticking to my pale thighs. I grabbed my transparent black bra from the day before. Another laundry day missed and forgotten. I have no fresh panties. Looks like it’s a black laced thong work day.

I rushed, brushing my teeth. No time for makeup, says my watch. Quickly ran my fingers through my messed up hair into a messy bun, taming as much I can with my strands of curls into something presentable.

Running downstairs, Bollocks, no time for breakfast or prep lunch. I checked my banking app to see if I could afford lunch. Doubtful. Grabbing my work bag, stuffing my purse in at least, debating footwear. Heels, no time to run and catch the train… flats though… debate won in the ballerina cute flats.

My run was a success, still in time for the train with lots of spare time. Thank you for flat pumps. Checking my watch, my stomach growled. Okay, maybe I should buy breakfast. I strolled down to the local ‘Greggs’ bakery. It’s close to the station, and I could use something to eat.

Hm, Breakfast bacon roll or Breakfast sausage roll? Which one? I pondered my thoughts when I spotted my primary interest in catching my train on time.


Yes, I spotted you a few weeks back, catching the same train to Waterloo London, and I couldn’t help but try to sit in the same carriage as you. The prospect that all this time, we are from the same town! With your back at me as you place your order at the bakery, I know you have gorgeous eyes that I caught once or twice on the train journey in the past, with those blue eyes locked onto mine, then looking back down at your newspaper. If someone else would have walked into the bakery, they would presume we were a couple. Your own suit matched my smoke grey colour scheme. Though yours is much more striking in the white shirt you wore.

I sighed as I bahis firmaları rechecked my banking app. Either eat now and miss lunch later. I go for the breakfast option, as my stomach protested the idea of not eating now.

When I glanced up ready to take my order, you already have two paper bags, one offered to me. “You like the Breakfast Sausage Roll, right?” You asked.

My mind whirled at wondering when you caught me in my last time eating on the train.

I nodded and offered my thanks. “I really appreciate it. Would you mind, perhaps I pay you back sometime?” I respond in politeness, hoping you are too much gentlemen-like to take the offer.

With a wink, you said, “I will keep that in mind.”

My head still has to be sensible because my horniness from this morning and last night made that wink look so much more wicked.

Accepting the offered breakfast, I teased, “Nothing beats a good sausage,” then inwardly cursing at the cheesy line. Why would that work as flirting, my mind screamed! I straightened my shoulders, made my way out of the bakery, praying you didn’t notice my embarrassment.

‘Bravo’, my mind said, ‘first time interacting at our train crush and we went with that!’

To avoid any further embarrassment, I took a good bite into my breakfast. Damn, that sausage roll was amazing!

You kept to my pace of walking, with your height and bigger stride in the walk went slower to my short ass walk. Without high heels, your height dominates mine, both intimidating and arousing. We exchanged pleasantries, where we worked in our offices in London, and the very British thing that cannot top as number one British talk, the weather.

The train slowly pulled into the station. We boarded, smoothly holding our conversation as we moved from a platform onto carriage picking a double seat together. With our breakfast finished, the train shifted into moving again.

You looked me up and down. “You know, I think I saw this look before. Did you wear this last Thursday?” There’s a hint of amusement in your smirk.

Butterflies fluttering in my stomach. You must have been noticing me as much as I knew of you.

I joined the flirtatious observation, “Well, I can tell that’s clearly your favourite tie you wear the most.”

I drew my eyes down to that very tie, admiring it before a quick glance further down to your belt line. I raised a brow at you, you’re hard.

With my back facing the window, your frame blocking out the rest of the carriage, I dared myself by placing a hand on your thigh.

“I really should pay you back for buying me breakfast,” I purred. My mind whirled, wondering if you will respond to my suggestion.

Chuckling, you proposed an idea, “I think we can arrange something. Perhaps a payment through your underwear. Give it to me.”

With your instructions, with your height and shoulders hiding me kaçak iddaa from the world, I am soaked.

I grasped the hem on my pencil skirt, drawing it upwards. You quietly groaned at seeing the nude lace band tops of the silk around my thighs, moving to remove your suit jacket.

“In case the conductor passes through asking for tickets,” you explained.

I gratefully take your jacket, covering my lower part, for your eyes only as I pull, shifted and tugged my thong down.

I can feel the harsh, rough material of the velvet train seat against my ass cheeks. I am going to leave a soak stained in this seat, my nipples straining in my bra in excitement.

You wrapped one hand around my waist, to the rest of the world. We are a loving romance couple, cuddling. I tucked my thong in your free hand; you stuffed them into your trouser pocket. My thin lined trimmed pussy exposed to the elements of the carriage. I shivered in delight, awaiting your next instructions.

Leaning over to whisper in my ear, “Slowly toy a finger in long, drawn circles around your clit. But don’t cum. Not until I say the word.”

I looked down at my exposed self, reaching a hand over my pussy, “What’s the word, Sir?” I asked breathlessly.

With a smirk, you said, “Let’s go with ‘Greggs’.”

My eyes widened. ‘Well, try ordering at the bakery again without thinking of this!’ my mind giggling at the idea of a new response to bakery goods.

I follow your instructions. You ordered me to slow or stop each time the train stopped, passengers around the carriage moving on and off the train. The instructions at my ear as you watched me move faster or slower, but with each command.

“Push a finger in yourself,” you breathed into my ear as the journey hit halfway.

I whimpered, my clit swollen and my pussy lips puffed up from the teasing. Your arm is still around my waist and your other hand on my thigh, spreading my legs out. I want your hands, your fingers, pumping into my slick thick mess down there. I want your teeth tugged gently at my earlobe, your tongue licking down my neck, sucking a hickey near my throat. My heart raced as I was a begging mess, whimpering, whispering, asking for all these wicked things.

But I don’t get to decide. You do. And your orders.

Granting me with your touch, I can feel your fingertips coating in the juices around my fingered pussy. The leisurely, slowly drawn circles you placed on me around my hand. I sink in two of my pussy, hitting my G spot as your tongue flickers down from the back of my ear, trailing down my neck. My breathing ragged. I grasped my hand on your trousers-covered cock.

“Please tell me you have condoms!” I begged.

I need a fuck, and I wanted it now. You slowly shake your head. Tugging at my pussy filled hand out, I whimpered. You licked the slickness off the two fingers, drawing them out slowly from kaçak bahis your mouth. With a darkened look, you instructed me to tug my skirt into place, then told me to freshen up in the bathroom.

I faltered. Did I go too far?

Once dressed, I shifted around you, my ass facing you as I worked out of the seats, then made my way to the train bathroom. I feel disappointed that I went too far. Maybe you don’t want to fuck, maybe you see me as your tease slut toy for the train only. I craved more and begged too much. I barely registered my movement through the carriage, almost closed the bathroom door, when a hand struck out to hold it open.

You. You followed me.

Pushing me back to make room for you to enter, closing us in the room, locking the door.

Then your mouth was on mine.

“Please, Baby, let me fuck you raw.” You asked, begged in your growl at my ear.

I yanked my pencil skirt back up, unbuttoned my skirt, wanting your lips on my breasts.

Fuck it. Let’s go bare, hot and raw in this train bathroom.

Tits exposed, shirt opened, bra tugged under them, and my pussy dripping a trail down to my silk covered thigh, I hoisted up on the small sink. You already unbuckled your belt, unzipped and tugged your trousers and boxers down to your knees. Over six feet in your height, say in all in size, the monster length rubbing along my pussy, coating it as lube. I wrapped my legs around your waist as you cupped my ass to hold me steady. I pushed my tits up for you to clasp your mouth on a nipple, suckling. I clung with my hands around your shoulders, arching my back for your onslaught of your tongue. I can feel your hips thrusts as you coat your cock more and more of my juices, shivering at the intimidating thought that big thing would brand me as your slut.

I adjust a hand of mine down to stroke your cock. Once, twice, then lining it up, pushing your head to my entrance. With a popping sound of my nipple being released from your mouth, you watch me as your cock stretches my tight pussy.

Releasing one hand from my ass, tugging at the back of my head, holding it, holding your gaze at me. I wanted to roll my head back at the sensation, but you are determined to see each inch fill me as my face went through mixed emotions. Arousal mixed with pain at the fullness, then surprise as you reached balls deep, and finally complete surrender.

You withdrew a little,


I cried out. Having to bite my enjoyment down. The thought of getting caught, exciting. The reality of if we did, we would have to stop.

And I don’t want to stop!

Thrust, thrust, thrust!

The pace slowly built up as we watched each other in our eyes, watching the heightened pace going faster, harder, deeper.

The small bathroom room filled with the sweating scent, slapping sounds of our fucking. I felt like a monkey holding on for dear life as I swung on the enormous trunk.

Whimpering, “I am close!” I pleaded.

“Cum then, cum my little slut!” Growling your orders.

“Not without Sir’s magic word,” I whispered.

You groaned, “Greggs.”

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