London Underground (by Sheep)

        It's 6pm, time to leave work, and the heat is still intense. Your office air-cooling system has not worked all day, and you're now ready to die from the heat and exhaustion. Your clothes are sticking to you (…what’s left of them) you have removed all unnecessary items and are down to a very short t-shirt and skirt. Conscious that there is a Manics interview on the TV at 7.00pm you fatally decide to take the Tube (London Underground system) rather than the bus home.
     The escalator carries you to the depths of the earth (…Northern line actually) and you wait on a particularly crowded platform for a train which can never be late since there is no timetable. After the tube doors open, you push your way through an array of sweating bodies only made bearable by the presence of deodorant. You stop at the far corner of the carriage next to a pair of broad shoulders clad in a black t-shirt and an extremely horny behind residing in khaki Combat trousers. However, before you can even begin to admire the view, an extremely obnoxious looking man pushes in front of you, and you are forced to deal with bad breath, body odour and a leer that would make your mother turn in her grave. Completely repulsed you back into the body behind, squishing (…sorry too many ‘Bugs Life’ videos) him against the window. "Oops sorry” you say, and briefly look behind you. The body grunts in reply but does not look up from his book. The tube jolts as it sets off, and once again you squish the man behind. (You’re enjoying the sensation actually, as in two squishes you’ve determined that those buttocks are as hard as steel, and those shoulders obviously pumps serious amounts of iron. God the heat has left you amazingly randy.) Still no response from the man behind so he can’t be that put out. At the next stop an entire party of tourists, not wishing to be parted, decide to get into your carriage, and the people to available space ratio starts to meet sardine proportions. Unable to bear the bad breath, body odour and leer any longer, you throw caution to the wind and turn to face the broad shoulders and cute arse. Unable to do anything else (…not that you really want to) you press your breast into his back and rest you head on his shoulder. ‘Peace at last’, a faint smell of soap and aftershave wafts towards you, all men should smell like this.
     As the tube hurtles through the tunnel, you rub your body against those shoulders and that arse, until you’re to the point of coming. The owner appears to be enjoying the experience too, since there now appears to be a small amount of room in front of him left over from where he has been backing into you. All of a sudden the train comes to an abrupt halt and the lights go off. The tube is pitch black. “Fuck”, you say without thinking. The darkness brings on a severe form of claustrophobia and you feel an urgent need to leave the train immediately. One of the tourists obviously feels the same and starts to scream. Unwilling to resort to screaming you fling your arms round the guy in front of you, burying your head in his neck.
     “Are you OK” he whispers pulling you round to face him into a clear space. His voice sounds strange and you can’t quite make out the accent. The carriage is now spinning, and you hold onto him very tightly, your arms firmly lodged around his neck. Your face is incredibly close to his, but still you cannot see a thing. “Erm no, I’m scared of the dark” you say laughing nervously at how absurd this must sound.
“That’s a crap excuse” ,he says, “you just wanted the extra space”.
You laugh again, and then feel his lips on your cheek as he whispers in your ear “Are you going to finish what you started?” In reply, your lips find his and you start kissing, gently at first, but as the screams grow loader, your kisses become more intense, until you kiss almost as if your life depended upon it. A far away voice announces that “London Underground apologies for the delay and normal service (with lighting) will be restored within the next five minutes”. The screaming in the carriage subsides, order returns, but you remain attached to the man in the black T-shirt and Combats.
     In the darkness his hands start to explore your breasts. Your tongue penetrates his mouth, while your hands grapple with the buttons on his trousers. (You’ve got less than 5 minutes, since Underground minutes are always shorter than real minutes so foreplay needs to be brief). You struggle with the last button on the combats until finally a huge erect penis falls into your hand. Yes, there is a God. Combat man has found out how ready you really are whilst searching for knickers beneath your skirt. In one silky smooth movement he pushes your bum back onto the window ledge behind, spreads your legs wide and penetrates you deeply. You’d cry out with pleasure, but his tongue is now down your throat and he is in complete control. You can do nothing but pull him closer to you, as your arms hold tightly around his neck. His rhythm builds as he thrust deeper and harder with each penetration, finally (in 4 minutes 39 seconds) the pair of you cum simultaneously. Aware that the light will come back on within seconds you quickly stand up and adjust your skirt, hoping that the semen trickling down your leg looks like sweat. Combat man rebuttons his trousers and moves away from you just slightly. As the lights come on at 4 minutes 49 seconds you find yourself staring into the deep dark brown eyes of James Dean Bradfield. There’s nowhere to go and nothing to stay, you stand there stunned with your mouth open. James looks embarrassed and goes back to reading his book. Regaining your composure you rub against him for the last time and get off at the next stop.