our first kiss, at the arrivals terminal, was electric and aroused both our passions instantly to near boiling point, and as we squeezed onto the crowded Piccadilly line train you could feel my erection, through my trousers, pressing into your behind. there was only one spare seat, so i took it and you sat on my lap, piling your various items of luggage on your knees to make room for the throng of standing passengers. my cock pushed up between your soft, gently squeezing thighs. it was an end seat an the woman to our right was engrossed in conversation with the man on her right, and your bags and parcels made a perfect shield against any of the standers seeing as i inched your skirt slowly up over your ass, pulled your panties to one side and slid a finger deep into your soaking, hot pussy. you knew exactly what to do and lifted up while i got my cock out, draped from view by your flowing skirt, and when you sat back down it plunged deep into your waiting depth, making us both shudder and gasp uncontrollably.
there was no need for us to move, as the juddering of the carriage, as it hurtled down the tunnel, jiggled and shook you on top of me. it was quite an unnatural sensation but exhilarating as the train rocked and bounced you on and off my throbbing shaft. at some points the carriage would jolt vigorously and repeatedly, lifting you almost off my cock completely before slamming you back down onto it, at others, the train just shuddered and trembled, it was like sitting inside a giant vibrator.
we had waited months for this and we could have very easily come within a few minutes, if it weren’t for the fact that every couple of minutes the tube came to a halt at a station, teasing us and prolonging our ecstasy for nearly the entire hour long journey. we sat in those stations, sometimes on the very brink of orgasm, trying not to move or breath too hard, my prick deep inside you, pulsing as your dripping pussy squeezed it.
you realised that the stranger stood right in front of us had realised what we are up to, when you saw his trousers begin to bulge and fill and when you looked up, he stared right down at your flushed face and winked, he knew exactly what we were doing. his growing erection was only inches from your hands as they clasped the parcels on your lap, and you watched as it came to full mast and bulged forcefully against the thin cotton like a wild beast demanding release from a cage. you could so easily reach out and touch it.
the stranger allowed the swaying of the carriage to push himself nearer to you, brushing his impressive cock against your knuckles, it felt like something made of rock in there, and when more passengers board, he used this to squeeze closer to you and let his long coat hang down on either side, shielding what you did next from view. with me still pumping deep inside you, my fingers digging into your butt, you unzipped him and slid your hand inside, clasping his bursting cock greedily. it was magnificent, not particularly long but so thick and hard that you could barely get you hand round it.
we were only two stops from home when the three of us came, after a long series of powerful judders, that took us to an explosive and thick and deep climax. thanks to the screeching brakes we were all able to cry out undetected, except for the woman to my right who shot me a filthy look when the words “holy fuck yes!” escaped unbidden from my mouth.
the stranger got off one stop before us, his coat now buttoned to conceal the large stain, and we never saw him again.
anyway son, that’s why we called you Piccadilly.
so, i’m on the tube the other day, ok? and it comes to a halt in the middle of a tunnel, and we all sit there in silence and wait, and then this voice comes over the public address system, “we apologise for the delay. this is due to a passenger under a train at oxford circus.” now, this got me thinking. a passenger i thought, under a train. I thought about how wrong that was, because surely, if you are under the train then you are not a passenger.