And so in need of her fingers deep inside me.Wait, what am I doing? I am 100 metres below London, on a packed solid commuter train, having my nipples ...roused, tweaked and my breasts massaged from the front. And behind me is a woman’s hand with fingers desperate to fill my ‘paradise’. Oh my God, her fingers are in me and my hungry wet pussy won’t let them go. I hear other moans, groans and other muffled sounds from around the carriage, also ragged breathing and people sweating profusely. My legs. It was aftereleven o'clock, so I still had another hour or so before I needed to getchanged for the gym. The fashion section hooked me, my concentrationintensified, god look at those black leather boots with the turn downflap at the top. I imagined wearing them over the knee or maybe turneddown. The silver metal heel glinted in my eyes. The short shirt typedress the model wore clung to her hips and the one strap shoulderplunged across leaving one shoulder bare. Great look, I thought. I didn’t mention about my bottom however, I thought that best left till later if at all. I ended by saying with pretend sternness, ‘So, that’s why I’m here, I made up my mind, I’m going to bed with you whether you like it or not,’ and I gave him both barrels of big blue eyes wide open. He was lovely, his face softened and he looked at me like that again and I started to get even wetter, ‘Caroline,’ he said it again!, ‘love, you don’t know what the last few minutes have done to me. Are you sure?. ”“Good point, Pablo; but don’t worry, I’ll gather the musicians, and we can start practicing tomorrow afternoon,” she replied with a large smile as she disappeared back into the kitchen.I picked up the guitar and started playing, nothing in particular, just strumming the strings, and thinking about the torture I’d gone through this afternoon, and the torture I was sure I was going to experience tomorrow afternoon.Mr. Mendoza asked what I was thinking so hard about. I started at his question,.