I’ve got another story or two about Joanna and I. Last time I mentioned her boyfriend Sean, who for reasons known only to himself would just book a seat on the next train out of the city and disappear into the countryside for a few weeks or months at a time. Turns out that she wasn’t the only one having clandestine hook-ups: he also did it too with various women in other towns while he was away. She wasn’t impressed when she found out, but she never told him about our little adventures.
This particular night happened during one of Sean’s getaway trips. Joanna had gone to see a band perform in the city, and stayed back to try to get photos with them and chat to them (you sometimes get lucky with indie gigs in cosy venues) but thanks to this city's terrible public transport of an evening, she missed the last train home. I’m winding down for the evening in my flat on the other side of the river, and she calls me to tell me what’s happened.
“I’m stuck. I missed the train home and there are no more until 5 AM, and I was supposed to get paid tonight but they didn’t send it through so I can’t afford a taxi home, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to wander the streets for five hours after midnight, it’s really cold. Maybe I could go crash in the casino because it’s open 24 hours?”
“There’s a lot of seedy people in and around there late at night. How about you crash at my place? When do you start work tomorrow?”
“Not ’til after lunch. Would you really let me stay over? I don’t want to be annoying or anything.”
“It’s all good, I’m your friend and friends look out for each other. The gig was opposite the main station, wasn’t it? Will you be right walking to here or should I come find you?”
“I’ll be fine, I know where you live. See you soon.”
About 15 minutes later the doorbell chimes, and I let Joanna up. It’d started to rain while she was walking and even though it wasn’t particularly heavy she was pretty much drenched. I fetched her a towel and lent her a dry shirt she could wear while her stuff hung up overnight, then put the kettle on and we chatted over a cup of tea. The gig was a lot of fun, and she showed me the photo she got outside with the singer. Apparently he was a really chilled-out guy. I set up some blankets on the lounge for her to use as a makeshift bed, and then we called it a night.
Some hours later, I’m woken by Joanna gently shaking me a little.
“Hey, sorry to bug you,” she whispered, “but I’m really cold and I had a bad weird dream, can I sleep with you?”
“Uh yeah if you want.”
I moved over to make room for her, and Joanna climbed in next to me. We start off just lying next to each other, but then she moves over and snuggles up to me, and soon we’re spooning in the bed. It almost feels like she’s grinding herself against me… oh, wait, she is. I hold her close, and our hands are wandering, she’s holding one of mine so I’m cupping one of her breasts and my other is massaging between her legs. She’s not wearing a bra under the shirt I lent her, and I'm gently playing with her nipple. I’m stroking the outside of her underwear, and I can feel a slightly damp patch, so I start gently rubbing little circles around where her clit is. She moans a bit, so I take that as encouragement and slide my hand under the waistband and start fingering her a bit. I’m stroking the hood of her clit with my thumb, and when I feel that she’s wet enough I insert first my middle finger and then my ring finger inside her. It’s a bit like the Rock On sign, and if you curl your fingers in the right way you can often rub the G-spot too.
“How does this feel? You know I never really know what I’m doing with this stuff, because every girl is different, right?” I say to her.
“You liar!” Joanna retorts. “You know exactly what you’re doing! Oh!”
I must have hit a sweet spot then, because she shivers involuntarily before really starting to grind against my palm. Her breathing is getting faster, she’s gasping and moaning a little bit more, and I start kissing and nibbling at the back of her neck right where it’s sensitive. Her hair is sort of in my face, but whatever shampoo she uses smells really nice.
“Oh fuck, keep doing that. I’m going to cum. Oh yeah.”
I feel her vagina tighten around my fingers, her whole body tense up, and then she starts shaking a bit as her orgasm washes over her. I love it when women lose control like that, there’s something really sexy about the way their body takes on a mind of its own when they peak.
After it subsides, Joanna rolls over and says, “That was nice. Now it’s your turn.”
She kicks off her (now really wet) knickers before putting a hand down my briefs to start stroking me. I was already hard but now I'm hard with a capital H. It’s getting a bit messy with precum, and I wriggle out of my underwear to be free with no distractions. Joanna takes the t-shirt off and throws it on the floor, and then straddles me and starts grinding against my cock.
“I want to fuck you,” she says. She grabs my penis and aligns it against her opening; I can feel how wet she is. She slowly lowers herself onto me, wincing a little, easing off, until after about four or five attempts I’m completely enveloped by her warmth and wetness. Apparently I’m the second-biggest guy she’s been with; length is a bit over average but I’m quite thick and that makes all the difference. From my perspective she’s quite tight, but it’s the best kind of tightness.
We’re slowly picking up the pace as Joanna gets used to my girth. I can feel everything, I’m pretty sure I can feel her soul. She’s riding me, my hands are running through her hair, along her back, feeling her breasts, everything. I reach down to where we join, to finger her a little, but the angle is awkward on my wrist and it interrupts the flow. Joanna is able to reach perfectly though, so she’s rubbing herself in these furious little circles. Our breathing has sped up, we’re moving in unison, Joanna is gasping and moaning (I am too, I can’t help myself).
“I’m close to coming again,” she tells me. Oh, I know, I can feel her. I pull her close, she holds her breath and her second orgasm of the evening rolls in. Again she lets go completely, the uncontrollable tremors, the clenching of her muscles. I love every second of it: the more she enjoys it, the more I do too. We pause for a moment for her to recover, before continuing as we were. I’m thrusting more this time, I’m so ready I’m amazed I haven’t come yet myself. I want it so badly, I’m amazed at the wonderful things we’re doing to each other; who would’ve guessed that no late-night trains could be such a good thing? I push as deeply as I can into her, we’re thrusting together, and then it’s my turn. My mind blanks and all I can focus on is how good it feels as waves of cum spill into her. After it subsides we lay together for a while enjoying the closeness before I soften and slip out, our combined juices trailing a bit behind me. Joanna gets up and goes to the bathroom to clean up, but I’m content to just lay there. When she returns a few moments later, we cuddle together until we both fall asleep.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/3n7sl6/sometimes_no_latenight_transport_can_be_a_good
Sounds so good,
"I’m pretty sure I can feel her soul" HAHAHAHAH