the next stop is

Stop, please. Someone is coming!'

'No. You're mine.'

She pinched his cockhead through thin trousers, as the young man swayed towards them on the train, high seats blocking her low hand.

'Squeak.' Pain, but more plaintive, desperate - shame imminent.

'Ok.' She left her hand resting on his upper thigh as the young man passed. Obvious if he cared to look, but did he?

'I don't give a fuck. We'll never see him again.'

'But, Miss...'

'Hush. Let's get you nice and hard for our stop.'

She resumed scritching his cock head, nails sliding hard over hardness. He whimpered, happily, dribbling.

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