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As I got my head up to her neck I could feel my cock pressing hard between her legs and although I couldn’t reach down to guide it I very soon felt the swollen head pushing between her warm wet labia lips and with one final movement I heard her gasp out as my cock made entry, “OMG Mr English, I am not sure if you.. um.. ooh yes.. umm OMG YESSSS!” she cried as my cock slid into her warm tunnel and as I immediately felt her cunt muscles contract I knew there was no way back.I was on top of her now and in order to steady myself I slipped my hands under her chest and now had my hands full of her small sagging titties and could feel the stiffness of her nipples pressing against my palms and as I gave them a gentle squeeze perfectly timed with a big thrust poor old Mrs J nearly choked as she felt the pleasures running through her body.“MR ENGLISH PLEEEEAAAASE!” she cried out but I wasn’t about to stop until I had unloaded which I knew wasn’t going to be long and I think deep down she was. At first, it's only a thin dark crack between her knees. But gradually, the crack widens, and allows the light to penetrate further between her smooth soft thighs. He looks up and down the platform. There's no one else. Her legs continue to spread apart as she slides forward. He can no longer mistake it. This show is entirely for his benefit. And he can't believe it! She's no longer wearing the pink lacy panties he caught a glimpse of earlier. The pink he sees between her legs now is bare, hairless skin and pussy lips. Her ass is now hanging off the bench, and she's resting on her lower back. The hem of her dress has risen up to her waist. Even from across the tracks, he can see the glisten of her wet pussy in the overhead lights. Her hand leaves her breast, trails down her front, and dives between her legs. As her fingers find her clit, he sees her inhale sharply. Her eyes close and her head tilts back. He can't hear her over his music, but he thinks she's moaning loudly. She.
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This was not the way he would have wanted it. Although alone, he wasn’t a loner. An only child whose parents had both died a short time after he had graduated from college, he had never had much contact with his few distant relatives, and even that had now dwindled to virtually none. While he had a number of male acquaintances, with whom he interacted reasonably well, none had ever blossomed into a close friendship, possibly because try as he might he could never find much that interested him in men. But women had always fascinated him, and he had grown to exalt and revere them. It was as if, to him, they all understood some mystery which he did not, and to which he would never be privy. Because of this failure he felt he could never be of any use to them, and none would ever find him to be of any consequence at all. Add to this his innate lack of confidence and an intense shyness and so he had never learned how to approach a woman. Thus he never had. But she had smiled at him. He.

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