It took all of my strength not to moan or cry our as he filled my tight wet hole. He stayed inside me, letting the train move our bodies instead of sl...ding his cock in and out of me. It was ecstasy, feeling a stranger inside me in a public space. I'm sure one or two passengers were aware of what we were doing but I was too aroused to care. My hand found my clit and I began to rub my little bud. At the same time, I felt fingers brush my ass as the stranger squeezed and stroked his balls. Mere. It was this interest in television that led me to begin moonlighting as an author. My first literary endeavors were in the college newspaper where, using a variety of pseudonyms to avoid any unwanted pressure from the victims, I wrote satirical articles that prodded several sacred cows including the pretensions of the professors, in particular the English professors who thought that if you couldn’t understand a writer it must be art. At University, I, when not studying or attending lectures,. We exchanged pleasantries a few times when checking the mail. I hate to admit it, but I would sometimes wait until I saw you coming before I nonchalantly strolled outside to walk with you to the mail boxes. Your quiet disposition was accompanied by your intelligence about everyday subjects, and I yearned to hear the next thing you would say, to glean what knowledge I could get about you and the world. I started getting into the habit of wearing my cutest skirts during these mail walks of ours.. Its my first year at university, and I am here thanks to answering an advert in a contact magazine called Good Vibrations that I found in a newsagent in Mill Road while surreptitiously sneaking a look at the magazines on the top shelf. The advert read 'Mature housewife seeks young man to help work out masturbation fetish - only genuine need apply'. As a genuinely desperate 20 year old (not quite a virgin, but thinking about sex all day and all night) I plucked up courage to answer, and was.