Harmony Roberts Gets Laid

Part 1 of 3:

On Saturdays, Harmony wore very little “ just an overcoat, underwear and kinky heels.  She liked the feeling of the silky lining and the London coldness creeping up her thighs.  In a gust, the lower portion of the coat would fly open, and she’d laugh as she pressed it back down.  That’s when passing men would linger, glancing at her thighs.  But when they asked her out, she always said no.  See, Harmony was done with men.

Her last lover had been a gorgeous boy who liked her in scarlet panties, but what was the point of love and kink if your guy was going to ditch you?  It was getting too intense, he said.  Well, fuck him!  She didn’t need him!  She’d have marvelous solo sex.  So nowadays, when she got her pussy waxed she did it for herself, and the fact she sometimes wore nothing but a coat was for her own benefit “ it turned her on.  Sometimes, she’d sit on the train and bring herself to climax, her coat flapping open as she reached between her thighs.  Oh, how thrilling to finger her wet pussy, knowing businessmen were chatting right behind her, and a woman two rows down might look up at any moment and see Harmony arching as she came. Yes, the train was Harmony’s favorite way to travel.

Today, she was going to meet her friend Denise Packerby, and was on the 6.10 train to Cambridge.  Her skirt and top were packed in her bag so she could dress when she arrived, and the train wasn’t busy; she had three seats to herself.  As the buildings swept past, she parted her knees.  She’d been wet all the way here, and now it was time for some fun.  There was a man a few rows in front of her, facing her way, idly turning the pages of his paper, and behind Harmony two old ladies were discussing Christmas.  Plus, to her right, beyond the aisle, sat a stud with skin the shade of milky coffee, and lazy, lustful eyes.  As Harmony glanced his way and reached inside her coat, she dreamed of sitting astride him, fucking him like crazy.  His cock, she imagined, as her sex grew wet and tingly, would be long and hard and slippery to fuck.  She rubbed herself harder through the silky gusset, feeling the satin sliding against her slit.

Suddenly, she caught a whiff of fresh cologne.  She started.  The stud was now sitting beside her, the centers of his eyes inky and large.  For a moment, she flushed, ashamed, but saw that he was smiling.

“May I help you there? he whispered, leaning right in.

“Be my guest, she told him, amazed at herself.

And with that, he leaned right in and kissed her full on the mouth.  The kiss was so smooth that she lost herself for a moment, and only came to when she felt him squeeze her knee.  He glanced about, checking they weren’t being watched, and then he ran his hand over her stocking-tops, catching his breath as he touched her through her panties.  “You’re barely dressed¦ he gasped.  “Jesus, I’m hard as a nail.

She reached for his zipper, but he stopped her.  “Not yet.  I want to watch you.

Ah, how quickly his fingers found just the right spot!  She smiled, collapsing in the seat, sighing with pleasure, and, desperate to have him touch her breasts, she pulled his free hand inside her coat.  But just as she was begging him to rub “harder, yes, harder! and just as he was whispering that she was fucking hot, and just as the pleasure was building inside her¦a voice came over the intercom:

“We are now arriving in Welwyn Garden City.

Harmony’s lover gave a start, pulled his hand from her crotch, and said, “I’m sorry, baby, I can’t miss my stop.  He made to turn away, then seemed to change his mind.  Taking hold of her face, he opened his mouth on hers and kissed her, with passion, for a good, long minute.  After, he pressed a business card into her palm, and said,  “You’re gorgeous.  Call me.  Then he left.

Harmony told herself she should have seen this coming.  Men.  They up and leave you, just when you need them.  So she massaged her damp pussy and thought about his fingers, and that beautiful cock she’d never gotten hold of, and she came, came, came, sinking in the seat.

Then, flushing, she smoothed out her coat and decided never to call him.

But as she climbed from the train, she still had his card and, rather than reaching for a nearby bin, she dropped it into her pocket.  I’ll recycle it later, she thought to herself, and tried not to think of his touch, or the way he’d called her ˜baby’¦

To be continued¦

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