0 comments/ 45332 views/ 2 favorites Waiting for the Train By: Kellysed Damn. She’d taken BART because the car was acting up, and with a 40-mile commute it seemed safer not to take the chance of a breakdown on the San Mateo bridge. Now here she was, in a station dark as night, the power out and murmurs all up and down the platform from the commuters left stranded. Some people were pushing toward the stairways; she could hear them. Here and there someone flicked a lighter to find their way, but there was no real sense of panic; it didn’t feel as if an earthquake had caused the blackout, and the city had been having power outages lately. She groped for a seat behind her; might as well sit and wait to see what would happen next. Her hand reached backwards and down; somewhere there was a marble perch she could rest her tight ass on, give her feet a rest. The sharp-toed pumps were sexy as hell, and somehow still businesslike, but they were not comfortable by anyone’s definition. Her fingers touched firmness, but it was warm and covered by fabric. And the firm length she was now holding onto pulsed in her fist as she wrapped her hand around it half-conscious of what she was doing, automatically grasping a stranger’s penis through his clothes before she realized it. “Oh, God, I am so sorry,” she blurted into the dark. “Don’t be. I’m not,” came back, resonant, warm, deep. “Honestly, I was just reaching for the seat. My feet are throbbing, swollen…” she let herself stop talking, realizing she was free associating her unconscious desires as she tried to excuse herself. “I’m a little swollen, too.” Long pause. She could hear him breathing, not harshly, not fast; just evenly and deeply, the sound of healthy lungs exercising. The darkness was freeing her, making her want to do what she never would. “I noticed,” she said. “I could help you with that…” And she sat down, almost in his lap, close next to him. Their thighs rubbed together; she could feel the muscles of his leg through the thin silk of her skirt. Felt the muscles tense and relax, and then his hand moved from his thigh to hers. Rested softly, then moved so slightly, just the fingertips now tracing a line up and down her thigh. The line got longer, further up, further down, until the fingers reached the hem of her skirt. “Are you having the same problem?” he asked. “I think it’s the heat. I always swell a little in the heat.” She could come up with no quick reply; his hand was sliding up the inside of her leg, almost tickling, sending her senses into high gear, nerve endings on alert. So much excitement that, by the time the fingers reached their destination, she, too, was swollen. “Ah,” he said. “I thought you might have this condition. I know a way to relieve the pressure.” It was still too dark to see him, but she felt and heard him slide off the seat. The sound of fine trousers against marble; the feeling of the slightest breeze, the drift of air from his movements as his body shifted around in front of her. Now two hands were on her thighs; one on the inside of each, gently pushing her legs apart, fingernails just scratching the skin, not quite pain. She could sense his body directly in front of her, and as her eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark she thought she could see the outline of his head as he lowered it to kiss one of her knees. “You smell so sweet. Flowers and musk. Dark and sexy.” His fingers trailed around to the backs of her knees, softest touch there, almost ticklish. Then, again, the slightest pressure from his nails sending jolts of pleasure straight up her legs to her cunt. Her pussy was wet and swollen now; the thin sheer thong she wore sticking to her, to the skin left hairless from the waxer’s art. His hands moved up her legs, sliding up the insides of her thighs, pushing them farther apart. The two of them weren’t entirely alone; she could still hear other passengers on the platform in the dark, fewer than there’d been, talking quietly, waiting for the power to come back on. No one sat on the bench close to them, but she could feel the presence of others around her, not far away. It didn’t matter. She would not have stopped him if they’d circled the two of them and started taking flash pictures. His fingers touched the edges of her thong, the slight satin ruffle now damp with her wetness. So slow; he traced the elastic, a finger on each side finally touching the skin, the join between leg and pubis, then sliding under the satin to feel her swollen flesh. Labia thick with sex, responding to his touch, her whole body responding, pushing her pussy up to meet his hand, draw his fingers inside her. With an audible slurp. Those lovely squishy sounds; she stopped hearing anything else, anything but the wet noises of her pussy juice on his fingers, her cunt clenching his hand, her own moans and his breathing. Her hips were moving in rhythm, now, without any conscious thought…up and down, pushing his digits in and out as her cunt muscles squeezed his long, strong fingers. With his free hand, he started to unbutton her blouse. The soft linen fell open with each muffled thump of a button slipping from its hole; slight goosebumps rose on her flesh as the cool air caressed her breasts. The lace bra barely held them, held them up for his hand to touch, until he deftly snapped the front opening and bent to kiss and lick. Her breath was coming in uneven rasps, now. She fucked his hand, shoved herself against it over and over. His teeth teased her nipples; the gentlest pressure, it sent spears of arousal through her nerves straight to her clit. The nipples were hard, straining against his lips, poking into his mouth. “Fuck me,” she whispered into his ear. “No,” he said back. “You have a promise to keep.” He stood up, away from her, but moved in close as she heard—felt?—his zipper slide down, the hard rod inside it bouncing free, slapping her face. Greedy mouth; she gasped for his cock, sucking air before her lips wrapped entirely around it, taking it deep and wet into her throat. She felt her naked breasts pushing against his legs, his hands reaching down to twist and pinch her nipples. Her hand replaced his in her soft wet hot box; her mouth moved up and down on his cock, feeling the veins stand out against the swollen flesh, the solid, hard ridge at the tip sliding under her tongue. His hand was in her hair, holding her head. She had a beat going, a move he hurried with his hand—pushing and pulling, fucking her face, using her mouth like a vagina, shoving himself deep into her until she nearly gagged. Somehow that excited her further; she came, squirting pussy juice all over her hand, feeling it spill onto her silk skirt, the marble bench. Knowing she’d go home, whenever she got there, with a stain on her skirt that would smell of cunt. Her heard her muffled moan and yanked himself free, reached to pull her up. Held her waist in his hands, lifted her off the floor and expertly brought her pussy down onto his hard cock, still standing. Her legs wrapped around him; her arms were around his head, breasts under the silk shirt bouncing up into his face with every thrust of his tool. He could feel her cunt snug around his cock, feel her coming, the contractions and wetness too exquisite to resist. It started in the soles of his feet, the tips of his fingers, the top of his head. This orgasm gathered speed as it ran toward implosion, electricity shooting into him from her, shooting out of him into her as he came and came. He held her, feeling the last throbs of his penis, the aftershocks of her orgasm. Listening to her ragged breathing evening out; feeling her heart beating against his chest. Gradually becoming aware that the voices around them had stopped for a time, and were starting up again in the darkness. And then, from a distance, hearing something like a quiet roar, a lurching complaint. She struggled down from her straddle, straightened her skirt. Pulled her blouse together. He tugged up his zipper and buttoned his pants. The lights came on. The mechanical voice said “Train for Bay Point in ten minutes.” Waiting for the Train You see all sides of society as a stationmaster. You have your mothers with prams, business drones, schoolkids, psychos, bums, drunks -- you name it. No matter how out of the city main you are, rail stations are like people magnets. I am a station master at a relatively quiet station. Most trains don't actually stop here out of peak times -- average of one an hour except overnight when there's no stops between 2am and 4am. If you need to get somewhere then your choices are waiting it out, or walking. My station isn't exactly a money-spinner. They can't even bother fixing the camera outside my office. Now, as you expect, most of the scum surface late at night, while the regular folks tend to only appear during daylight. Occasionally a poor guy or gal will get stranded on the platform with a weirdo, which is quite unpleasant for them. Occasionally I let them inside the office -- even though it's totally against protocol -- for safety. The camera doesn't work, and it's not like I'm going to get busted at 2am by a superior. Overnight between Tuesday and Wednesday is the slowest night of all. It's uncommon to see anyone at the station between midnight and 4am. Those that so come are usually drunks leaving the pub and almost invariably male. There are exceptions though, such as Bess. Bess was blonde and slender with grey-green eyes, but her buck teeth and acne scarring made her rather unattractive to most of her male peers. "It's not really safe out here. You're welcome to come in here!" I said to her as she planted herself on a nearby bench to wait for the next train. She looked at me standing in the office doorway and raised an eyebrow. "You sure?" she asked. "Sure I'm sure. Never been caught yet." Bess grinned and swaggered over, nearly tripping in her heels and giggling at her own clumsiness. "I'm a li'l drunk." She announced as she appeared in the doorway. "Odd day of the week to go drinking." I retorted. "Tis okaaay, I dun hafta work today!" she slurred in response. "Heh, that's lucky for you then, isnt it?" I asked rhetorically with a grin. "Got water or something?" she asked. "Water, um, actually no." I replied as I lifted my jacket off the bottle of vodka on the desk. "I've got this though." Bess laughed. "You're really not a rules man, are you?" "No, not really." I poured Bess a slug of the vodka into a plastic cup and passed it to her. She downed it in one mouthful and handed the cup back with a wink as she made herself comfortable on the edge of my desk. I filled the cup right up this time and returned it to her. "Whoa, thanks!" was the reply. Before long, she was totally plastered and talking absolute rubbish. I managed to follow the bits about her boyfriend dumping her over a month ago, and how she was bored at work. Her legs were crossed and I could see her lacy panties. Unsurprisingly, this turned me on and I could feel my cock responding. I acted interested in what she was saying -- even though she made little sense -- and began playing with the heel that was dangling towards me. She didn't seem to mind. Her rambling continued as I traced the strap of her shoe. "Why don't you take these off, it'll be more comfortable." "Oooh, good idea!" she squealed and fumbled trying to do so -- far too drunk to have the dexterity. "Here, I'll help." I made a show of it, and brushed my fingertips along the sole of her feet, watching her squirm and grin each time. As I reached over to put the shoes on the desk, my waist pushed against her knees. Subconsciously, she parted them. My cock noticed this and went rock hard instantly pressing hard against the fly of my trousers. "See, isn't that much better?" I asked, placing my hands on both her knees, caressing them gently. "Yup!" As I slowly caressed her skirt towards her waist, she moved her legs further apart. "I think you're hot, Bess." I said. "I know we've only just met, but you're so hot and I want to show you." I took a chance and lent down and planted a kiss firmly on her lips. She didn't pull away, but rather responded in kind. I moved my hands from her hips to her chest and began to knead her ample breasts, tweaking the nipples until they were hard and pushing her back onto the desk until she was laying exposed. I moved one hand from her chest to her mound and began to rub her clit through the lace of her panties. "That feels good..." she mumbled. Taking a step back I pushed Bess's skirt the rest of the way to her waist, then took hold of her panties and roughly pulled them off her before putting them on the table next to her. I unzipped and my eager cock sprung out. "I'm going to fuck you, Bess. You're so fuckable." "Fuck me. I need your cock in me so bad." she replied Bess had started massaging her own tits since I'd stopped, so I focussed on her cunt. I pinched the little nub and rolled it between my finger and thumb while rubbing the tip of my cock up and down her slit. She was really wet by now. Slowly, I inched my way inside her. Her passage was tight around the thickness of my tool. Once all the way in, I waited for her to adjust to my girth, then began pumping in and out. "Ooh ah ah oooh ah..." she groaned as I pumped furiously into her hole. "Fuck me, fuck me hard!" "Your cunt is so hot and tight, Bess. It fits my cock so well." I picked up pace and pistoned my cock into her slick hot hole. Pressure was building in my balls and I knew I'd not be able to hold out long. Bess reached down and began to massage her own clit. It wasn't long until she was shrieking in the pleasure of her climax. The milking action of her orgasm quickly brought me to mine. With one final thrust, I bottomed out and my cock head kissed her cervix as I dumped my potent baby-making load deep inside the stupid drunk girl's unprotected womb. As she came down off the high of her orgasm, she drifted off to sleep. I slipped her panties back on, sealing in the potent seed, and put her shoes back on before carrying her back out to the bench she left over an hour earlier. Half an hour later the 4am train arrived. I woke Bess and guided her to the train. ***** I've seen Bess daily since then. She'd always been a regular, just not once I'd noticed. I notice her now though. However, I don't think she remembers what happened that Wednesday morning. It's now 6 months since our encounter, and Bess's belly is becoming quite obvious.