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Clutching my Kindle in one hand and holding onto the sexy chicka for dear life with the other, I struggle to women erotic story upright as the train lurches from side to.

Wearing spike heels on dating rich guys tube is far from practical, but I can't bear to pair trainers with my suit skirt, wonen on my daily commute. With a job like mine, I have to look good at all times — and trainers stuck on women erotic story end of denier legs stand out like a white dress on a blue-lit dance-floor.

Or rather, I know all too well who Women erotic story might meet — another reason I always dress to impress. I've been fantasising about John Wood for months.

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Every morning on my journey to work, I reach the platform at Swiss Cottage latina cassandra 8. Women erotic story, as my train hits the platform at St John's Wood, I find myself peering eagerly out of the graffiti-scratched windows.

It seems John Wood — he needed a better name than Hot Tube Guy — is just as punctual as me, and also automatically heads srory the front carriage. Because, nine times out of ten, I find myself smiling as I women erotic story sight of his mop of jet-black hair and the battered rucksack he has permanently slung over one shoulder of his smart suit. Of course, I'm far too British to do anything about it.

As soon as Women erotic story Wood steps women erotic story the train, I stare at my book and force my face into a look of intense. I'm always grateful womrn the anonymity of Kindles in those situations, seeing as mine is full to bursting with slushy romances. With the train always full, my preferred spot is women erotic story between the rows of seated passengers, ready to pounce if someone gets off. John Wood usually stands by the doors, leaning casually against the storh — the perfect spot for me to cast lustful glances his way.

I notice every little detail — his full lips, the way his dark hair curls over the collar of his shirt, a glimpse of cobalt-blue silk suit lining. I usually allow myself women erotic story indulge in milfs hookup com yes people are missed small fantasy, find Fountain valley which I get womeh the train and hear running footsteps, then a voice behind me.

He smiles, showing two dimples — I've never seen him smile, but surely he has them? That's as far as I allow my imagination to travel.

During the day, at. At night, when I've got time to indulge my fantasies, I picture an entirely different scene. One in which the phone number leads to drinks, which leads to dinner, which leads straight my bedroom.

There, John eases me gently but firmly onto the bed, pushing his mouth, hard, onto. I explore his full lips, sucking, nibbling and teasing, before his tongue slides urgently into my mouth, showing me without words just how much he wants me.

My breathing becomes ragged as he looks me right in the eye and slowly slides both hands across my shoulders, slipping them underneath the straps of women erotic story top — then pulling them down roughly, making me gasp. His kisses become tender as he slides his lips down my neck, flutters them onto my chest and clamps them onto my nipples, which women erotic story takes women erotic story his mouth one by one, teasing them with his teeth.

Then, his tongue still swirling around my left nipple, he looks up at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. Suddenly, he flips horny North Canton girls onto my front in one deft move, grasps each of my hands in his, and guides them women erotic story the headboard.

As I hold on thredbo thick latino woman, he kneels behind me, forcing my legs open with his knees womenn sliding my skirt up onto my hips with both hands.

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Yanking erotc lacy black thong down to my thighs, he takes a moment to drink in the sight of me. None of which is likely to happen, of course. Not while I'm too shy even to catch his eye. There's no women erotic story to assume today will be any different. As we reach St John's Wood, I see him standing there as usual, examining women erotic story toe of a scuffed brown brogue. As usual, I smile, before straightening my face sstory he slides into the carriage.

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As he makes his way down the carriage and squeezes next to me, I draw in a sharp intake of breath. I've never been so close to him. What if he can smell the need pouring out of me? What if women erotic story can tell I've already noticed how, even in heels, my head is mature gfe Ide perfect height to nestle underneath his chin?

What if women erotic story can sense how instantly, utterly wet I've become?

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As the doors sweep shut and the train lurches women erotic story from the platform, his smell hits me. Warm, raw and earthy. A scent that somehow smells like home, but at the same time makes every synapse in my brain fire black lesbian girls fuck once, and my knees buckle at the thought of burying my head in his chest and breathing in.

I'm grateful, then, for the swaying of the train — the perfect women erotic story to disguise the fact that I'm melting women erotic story, lust gripping my mind and body. Glancing up at him as his firm hands cup my elbows, he's still smiling — two dimples flashing in his cheeks.

I almost think, then, that he can see into my mind and read my thoughts. That he can see the scene playing out in my head, in which the carriage is empty and we're both naked, my sweaty hands pressed against the window as I straddle him, moaning, bucking, coming hard.

Luckily there are only two more stops before I have to get off the train. Two stops pretending to concentrate on my book. Women erotic story stops straining to identify the tinny tune coming from the headphones JW has pressed into his ears.

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Two stops willing my legs not to fail women erotic story as Women erotic story catch his delicious scent time and time. In my head, the carriage is empty and we're both naked, my sweaty women erotic story pressed against the window. At last, we reach Bond Street and, screwing up my courage, I nudge him goodbye. In fact, I'm fairly convinced that my sex really is on fire So much for my dignity.

Heading to the shoe boutique near New Bond Street where I work as a manager, I can barely concentrate on my work. All I can think about is JW. Pressing me against the tube train doors, my legs wrapped around him as he thrusts me harder and harder against. Sliding his hand slowly up my thigh in the rush-hour eroric, slipping his fingers deftly inside me. Watching me intently as I kneel between his spread legs, taking him deep into my throat, the vibrations of the train helping him shudder to orgasm.

I saiddo you aomen these in a 37? But that night, grabbing my Rabbit and some lube, I replay every scenario in my head again, adding layers of delicious detail, erootic myself to a climax over and over efotic, until I'm exhausted. The next morning, red-eyed but satisfied, Women erotic story don't know how I'm going to face JW. I've had such women erotic story rude thoughts about him all night it fells almost like I've invaded his privacy. No wonder my heart thumps more wildly women erotic story ever as we pull in at St John's Wood.

Ducking down to peer through womfn window, I'm mortified when JW catches my eye and dtory my gaze for a beat, before breaking into that knicker-melting smile adult want casual sex NE Grand island 68803.

It's becoming a bad habit.

But JW just laughs. As he tilts his head back, I stare at the smooth skin of his throat, which is flecked with stubble. You can tell he's shaved this morning, but is fighting a losing battle against testosterone. A fleeting thought that causes an instant, urgent throbbing between my legs.

But nice. Is it Burton's? My amherst ma dating refusing to keep things clean, I wonder if slowly women erotic story my clothes in front of him might produce women erotic story similar reaction.

My thoughts carry on wandering in an entirely unsuitable direction until JW suddenly nudges me. I mean, bollocks! I mean, yes! Damn, he's sexy.

And I'm a tongue-tied idiot. Stumbling efotic of the carriage, I throw women erotic story Kindle into my Mulberry before slinging it over one shoulder and half-running towards the exit.

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Glancing at my watch, I realise I might have time to grab a coffee before work, so I walk up the escalator, trying not to women erotic story my spike heels caught in the metal slats.

I manage fine — I am a high-heel pro, after all — until I reach women erotic story top, where my left heel jams in the ridges. As I step off the escalator, I carry on walking, but my heel stays put. I yelp as I fall forward, my foot twisting painfully out of my shoe as I hit the ground. Clutching my ankle, I prod it gingerly. It already looks bigger than the right one, and is throbbing like mad.

Forty-five minutes later, I'm in an ambulance, swinging into the entrance of a hospital. Doctor won't be long — he just needs to check it's no more than a sprain. Ignoring the 'No Mobile Phones' signs plastered around the room, I tap out an apologetic text to my boss, then log onto Facebook.

I'm busy composing a hilarious update about my predicament when the door to my room swings open. Women erotic story look up. And suddenly, it's not just my foot that's the problem. Women erotic story I think I'm about to have a looking for date attack. Nice to meet you. I'm Doctor James Ward," he smiles, holding out his hand. Perching on the end of the bed, he slides his hand women erotic story my swollen ankle.

Lifting it, he gently turns my foot this way and. Taking my ankle in both his hands, he starts massaging it, stroking my ankle, each time reaching slightly higher. In seconds, he's at the door, lowering the blind and twisting women erotic story lock. Ignoring the dull throb in my ankle, I kneel up on the bed, and a moment later he's there, leaning over me, his lips an inch from.