My cunt was dripping as I rode his throbbing cock. He thrust into me, keeping time with my hips. I had been at the train station, just trying to catch the subway into town. My skirt was short, my top tight, and my pumps a perfectly slutty eight inches.
I was minding my own business when I felt a hand slide across my ass. This wasn’t an accidental brushing as someone walked by; no, this was deliberate. I looked over my shoulder to see who could possibly want my attention so badly.
“How much for half an hour, sweetheart?” He purred into my ear.
I almost slapped him; I wasn’t a hooker! No, Anabelle, but you are a slut; I thought to myself.
“$300.” I said, kidding and ready to escape his wandering hands. Those hands slapped three Ben Franklin’s into my hand, grabbed me by the hair, dragged me over to the benches, and bent me over.
He flipped my skirt up, tore my satin thong off, and slammed his fat black cock deep inside my tight cunt. He fucked me, harder than I’ve ever been fucked. Then, he pulled out; leaving me gaping, before seating himself on the bench, and pulling me down over top of him. I rode him, wet as water, as a whore. My train rolled up to the station just as he spilled his seed deep inside my pussy.
Shoving me off of him, he threw me on the train. The other passengers stared; I was humiliated, and somehow, even more horny.
Anabelle
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