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Although I was in Germany on holidays, today I wasn’t having a particularly good time. I’d misread the train timetable and missed the train I’d planned to catch. So instead of getting an off-peak hour train with few passengers, I was on a peak hour train. When I got on, most of the seats were already taken. Rather than asking people to move over or move the bags they had placed on the seat to stop anyone sitting next to them, I decided to stand. At least there was still plenty of standing room. I stood in the central aisle, hanging onto one of the leather straps that dangled from an overhead bar. At each suburban station a few people got on and a few got off. But as we pulled into the station in the Berlin CBD and I saw the crowd surging towards the front of the platform, it seemed that even standing room was soon going to be at a premium.
With an inward sigh, I move to the end of the aisle. Or at least, I moved as far as could. At the end of the aisle was a fat businessman, hanging onto the strap, his sweaty armpit exposed for his fellow travelers to see and smell. The doors opened and the peak hour commuters poured in. A woman in her twenties in tight trousers and a sleeveless white top came and stood beside me. She wasn’t particularly attractive, but she had some attractive features. Slightly pear shaped, she had round hips and a curvaceous bottom. Her large breasts filled out her blouse nicely and counter-balanced her rear end. As she reached up to take hold of a strap, she adjusted her bra with her other hand so that her bra straps were out of sight. I wondered why she bothered, seeing her black bra was clearly visible through her white top. As the carriage filled rapidly, I moved closer to sweaty armpit man and the woman closer to me. She and I were almost touching. I didn’t want her to think I was taking advantage of the situation, so I took a deep breath and moved closer still to sweaty armpit man.
Finally, the doors closed and the train moved away from the platform. Just out of the station, we changed lines, the carriages rocking from side to side as the train negotiated a diamond crossing. As the train rocked, the woman moved slightly backwards, her bottom brushing the front of my jeans. As the train picked up speed, it swayed and bounced over the joins in the tracks and she continued to brush against me. Not that I minded, but I did wonder why she didn’t move back to her original position.
While I was still wondering, the train entered a tunnel. In the relative darkness of the tunnel, the woman took a half step back, and to my right. Now the crack of her bottom was resting against my groin, and it seemed to me like she wiggled her bottom, gently, from side to side. Perhaps it’s my imagination and she doesn’t realise she’s touching me, I thought, as the train emerged from the tunnel. We entered another tunnel. This time there was no mistaking her intention because she took my hand and placed it on the outside of izmit escort her pants, almost between her legs. At the same time, she leant back so her shoulders were touching my chest. In this position, her perfume filled my nostrils. I couldn’t feel anything much through the thick material of her pants and before long we were back out in the daylight and I had to take my hand away.
The train stopped at a number of stations, but I barely noticed. She continued to gently rub against me, against my hardening dick. With her shoulders resting against me, I could look down her top. Her bra seemed too small to completely contain her boobs. She smelled so good, I wondered if I dared, in front of all these people, to kiss her neck or perhaps nibble on her ear.
The train slowed as it approached the next station, interrupting my daydream. The woman moved forward towards the door. Obviously, this was her station. But as she turned in my direction to squeeze past the man in front of her, she beckoned me to follow her. I did so, and when we emerged onto the platform, I saw it was a very small station. No one else from our carriage had left the train and only a handful of commuters from the carriages in front of us had got off. They hurried quickly to a set of stairs that led down to the underground exit from the station. Once we were on the platform, the woman turned me and smiled.
“Elisabeth” – “Elsa” she said.
“David” – “Dave” I said, while trying unsuccessfully to match the brilliance her smile.
She reached over and kissed me on the lips. Then as the train pulled away from the station she took my hand and led me past a small shelter for passengers towards an old block of toilets, which was the only other building on the platform. At the side of the building was an entrance marked “Damentoilette”. Inside there were just three very small cubicles. Elsa looked in the first cubicle and wrinkled up her nose. The next cubicle was better. The toilet and cistern were very old, but at least the toilet looked reasonably clean. Against one side wall was a sanitary napkin disposal bin. She put her handbag on top of the bin. On the opposite wall was an ancient toilet roll holder. The toilet paper on the holder was cheap and rough, the kind you usually find in public toilets. With the two of us in the cubicle there was very little room to spare. Elsa inspected the toilet seat, unbuckled her pants, and sliding her knickers and pants together down to almost her ankles, sat down.
Now I realised why I hadn’t been able to feel anything through her pants. Inside her black panties was a large, but unstained sanitary napkin. Then as Elsa sat right back on the toilet and opened her legs, I saw a green string dangling from her vagina. She began to pee – a strong, thick stream of pee that splashed into the water. She must have been bursting on the train. As her stream diminished to a trickle and then stopped, she reached over kadıköy escort and tore off some toilet paper and then wrapped it around her other hand. After wiping, she inspected the paper, which was quite wet with just a hint of a red tinge. Then she slowly removed her tampon. It had expanded both length ways and width ways and was completely soaked with menstrual blood. The only part of the tampon that wasn’t red was the few inches of string that had been outside her vagina. I saw why she had the pad as back up. She lowered the tampon into the water where it expanded even more as it floated in the bowl. The occasional drop of blood dripped into the water. She sat on the toilet, legs still wide apart and began to gently rub her clit.
Elsa looked up to see if I was watching and smiled when saw me playing with myself through the pocket of my jeans. Still smiling, she unzipped my jeans and carefully took out my semi-erect cock. I unbuttoned her blouse and saw that her large, hard nipples were trying to poke holes in her bra. I unhooked her bra and began massaging her boobs. She pulled me closer and put my dick in her mouth. I was hard in seconds. After a while, she stopped sucking and asked in English:
I understood what she was saying. She wanted me to fuck her, but if I’d prefer not to have sex because of her period, she would suck me off instead.
“Fuck” I said, smiling. With that, Elsa reached into her handbag for a condom which she expertly rolled onto my cock. Before standing up she put a hand between her legs so as not to drip on her knickers or pants. She then stood and turned so her back was towards me. She rested her arms on the cistern and spread her legs to the appropriate width so that her vagina was roughly in line with my cock. A drop of blood landed on the toilet seat.
She wasn’t big, but as I expected with the combination of her arousal and her menstrual flow, I entered her easily. My first couple of strokes were shallow, thinking she might be sensitive because of her period. But then, as I pushed my hips forward, Elsa pushed back to meet me, sinking my dick in her vagina up to the hilt. After that, my full stokes were greeted with increasing moans of pleasure.
Suddenly, I was aware of an unexpected noise. It was the sound of the door of the next cubicle closing. A woman’s voice asked a question in German, followed by a giggle. Elsa giggled and answered in German. Elsa turned her head towards me and smiled reassuringly. I heard our visitor sit down and begin to pee. She finished quite quickly, flushed and washed her hands. She signaled her departure by farting, laughing at herself when she passed our cubicle door.
While we hadn’t stopped fucking, we had been distracted, so I was surprised that Elsa seemed close to orgasm within a couple of minutes of our visitor leaving. Soon she let out a couple of loud moans kahramanmaraş escort and I felt her shudder and saw her arsehole contract a number of times. I hadn’t been that close to coming, but the sound and feel of Elsa’s orgasm sped me up, and although I tried to hold back, I came only a minute after her. Despite the fact that I was wearing a condom, as I came, I still wanted to penetrate her as deeply as possible. I guess it’s an inbuilt instinct – the desire to deposit semen as close to a woman’s cervix as possible in order to have the best chance of impregnating her. I kissed Elsa’s back which was all I could reach from behind her. She responded by slipping off my dick and turning to kiss me on the lips, while keeping a hand between her legs. She sat on the toilet and when she removed her hand, a thin stream of menstrual fluid flowed into the toilet. I guess the rhythmic contractions of her cervix when she came had pumped more fluid from her womb into her vagina.
Once again she sat right back on the toilet and peed again, opening her legs so I could watch. She peed a surprising amount considering that she had gone before we fucked. It was then I noticed a water bottle in her handbag. What with tampon changes and peeing, she must have spent a fair part of the day in the toilet. She wiped a number times to remove the blood smeared around the opening to her vagina and on the tops of her thighs. Each time Elsa wiped between her lips, there was more blood on the paper. The pee in the toilet began to take on a slightly reddish colour. She reached over and pulled off the condom, her eyes widening with surprise at the large volume of ejaculate in its tip. The amount of cum was pretty good evidence that I’d had a good time, I thought, smiling to myself. There was plenty of blood on the condom, which Elsa dropped into the toilet where it floated, half-submerged, alongside her tampon.
She rummaged around in her handbag, pulling out a box of super tampons. After removing the cellophane wrapping and uncoiling the green string of a tampon, she handed it to me. As my dick had been in her vagina only a few minutes earlier, the tampon slid in easily. Then she stood, putting up her panties as she did so and making sure the sanitary pad was snugly against her vagina. Now I needed to pee, and as I did, Lisa stood behind me and held my dick. We both laughed when she aimed my stream at the tampon and the condom, trying to sink them.
When we left the toilet there was nobody on the platform – not even the woman who had used the next cubicle while we fucked. Elsa rummaged around in her handbag again, this time finding a train timetable. She opened it at the appropriate page and I looked at my watch. The next train was only minutes away. We hugged and kissed and she walked to the exit stairs, pausing at the head of the steps to flash me a smile and blow me a kiss.
I was already reliving the experience in my mind and it was only when I got on the train that I realised I hadn’t asked Elsa for her address or phone number. In the days that followed, I caught our train on a couple of occasions, hoping she might be on it. I didn’t see Elsa again, only the fat businessman, who greeted me with slightly raised eyebrows and a knowing smile.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32