Hot night in a train with aunty Part 1

This is my first experience with an aunty. I hope you will like this aunty sex story. The train shuddered, lurching me awake. When I had drifted off, the seat facing me was vacant. A startling aged aunty now occupied it. She was tall, like me, but olive-skinned with dark twisting hair that framed her round face. At the center of that face were large, round green eyes, arresting in their vivid hue. As my mind returned to me, I wiped the little trail of drool from the corner of my mouth, my cheeks running scarlet. She giggled gently, hand over her lips, deep berry-red lips.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said in her clear melodic voice. “I’m the same when I fall asleep sitting up, and you’re an awfully cute sleeper.”

It was my turn to laugh. “I’m sure it’s amusing as hell,” I said.

“You’d be surprised. I was in the next car, but I was driven away by a group of dudes, drunk and shouting. I hope you don’t mind me joining you here. You made for a bucolic scene.”

“Happy to oblige, especially if I saved you from unwanted aggravation.” She smiled, all shining eyes and dimples, and my stomach fluttered.

“So, what brings you this way?” I asked. “The train, I mean, not the car.”

She smiled. “I was in town for a festival, and now I’m headed back home. And you?”

“Headed up to take a little holiday with friends. I just finished a big show for my work, so now I’m taking a few days to unwind. So tell me, what festival? Was it enjoyable?” She blushed, her cheeks taking on a pinker hue as she cast her eyes away bashfully. “Nevermind,” I said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. You don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s ok; I really shouldn’t be embarrassed. I was at Kinkfest. It’s a convention for those into kink and BDSM…like me. I hope that doesn’t offend you.” I laughed out loud, startling her. She dipped her chin lower. She was fiddling with her rings, and she was about to bolt. I leaned forward and placed friendly fingertips lightly over her knee.

“I’m so sorry I laughed. It is awfully brave of you to state that so boldly to a complete stranger. But I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise. It’s just that…my ‘show;’ I was there too…as a vendor.” Her eyes shot upward; she was analyzing my face, searching for any deceit. I sat back, meeting her gaze. She spoke low, slowly, not much above a whisper, “Tell me more.”

I could feel the corners of my mouth curling upwards. “I make clothes and equipment for those inclined to kink: latex, leather, satin, and steel. ‘Squirrel by Night’ is my company’s name. Mine’s Alana, by the way.”

By means of a reply, she sat up straight and lifted the hem of her buttoned blouse to her waist, revealing a panelled corset of black satin and leather. My smile expanded as I recognized my own work. “My name’s Angela, and it was love at first sight,” she purred as she lowered her shirt.

“Well, it’s never looked quite so good, if I may be so bold.”

“After making something this amazing, you could be much bolder than that.” Her words and those emerald eyes were burrowing straight to my center. I could feel the moisture building between my thighs and squirmed in my seat. Her legs were crossed, but her sandaled foot, which had been hovering a foot from my leg, drifted toward me, her bare toes now skimming my calf, raising goosebumps and sending a shiver up the length of my body. I reached down, my fingertips grazing her immaculate ankle.

“What was your favorite part the weekend?” I asked.

“Well, this is quickly rising the list, but all of the amazing rope work. It’s not my personal cup of tea, but some of those suspension rigs were incredible, although in practice, I prefer a more pragmatic use of rope.” It wasn’t subtle – I assumed we were beyond that – so I gently jabbed my bag on the floor between us with my toe. It fell open on its side, two rope bundles spilling from it.

“Do you always travel with those?” she asked.

“Not always, but I promised my friends a demo: Improvisation 101.”

“Care to give another?”

I rose from my seat slowly, grabbing one of the bundles as I did. I stepped into the aisle. My voice low and stern, I commanded, “Follow me.” I held out my hand to her, into which she placed her own long, delicate fingers. She stood, and I led her silently through the door to the vestibule. Once there, I pulled her to me, enveloping her within the circle of my arms. Our lips met quickly, Angela pressing hers into mine, joining us from knee, through hip and belly and breast, to hungry mouths. Her kiss was demanding, her soft full lips parting mine. Out tongues met as the hot rush of chemicals seared through our skin.

The train shunted and we fell against the lavatory door, my hands in her lush hair and hers on my hips. I reached out, turned the handle, and we fell through the portal.

The lav was small, as they tend to be, but we were so close, so entwined, all we had space for anyway was our two bodies and the rhythmic rattle of wheels on rail beneath us that transformed that little room into an electric, vibrating temple. Her berry-red lips devoured mine as our tongues danced. She smelled like the forest in spring, all wildflowers and rain. She placed her hands at my waist and drew off my shirt as I unbuttoned hers, revealing my work resplendent on her beautiful form. Her shirt removed, I worked the laces from her back and began unhooking the busk, lowering my mouth to kiss down her smooth torso with every every revealed inch.

Unencumbered by tops now lying on the floor, we frantically kissed each other’s bodies, shoulders, breasts, clavicle, neck, and belly. My hands on her full, delicious hips, I lifted her onto the counter, her back to the mirror, as she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling our hot centers together. Her hands clawed at my back, but I gripped her wrists and brought her arms around her back. The rope lying next to her was quickly deployed, one hand turning it over her supple, burning skin while the other held her writhing body in check. Her breath caught as the last cinch was pulled, her arms bound straight behind her from wrist to elbow. “How’s that?” I asked.

“Divine,” she sighed, her whole body softening, relaxing, into her restraint. I gripped her throat, softly, firmly, turning her chin to the side and exposing her throbbing neck. Her pulse pounded beneath her skin, and I kissed her there, lightly, barely skimming her skin with my lips, making her shiver. I kissed her again an inch below and an inch below that, down to the hollow of her neck. A low moan escaped her open mouth, the vibrations echoing through our pressed bodies, and my cunt ached with need and desire for this magnificent woman.

“Touch me, please,” she breathed, and my hands followed the crease of her soft thighs beneath her pleated skirt until they reached her sex. She gasped as my thumbs pressed into her soaking underwear. Pivoting one hand so that my fingers could caress that wet warmth, my other reached up behind her to slide my fingers into her soft, full hair. My grip closed, pulling her head back as I kissed deeply into the hollow of her neck. Her sweet-smelling silky hair, an intoxicating mix of spring forests and wet blossoms, fell in tight curls over my face.

I traced the wet streak adorning her underwear with my desiring hand and traced her throat with my lips. The low, vibrating moan emanating from deep within her grew louder as she used her powerful thighs to drive her cunt into my hand. I removed my hand to allow her to grind my pelvis unimpeded as I gripped her face with both hands and kissed up her neck to her chin. ‘Snap’ went her teeth towards my lips. “Naughty,” I said as she pressed her lower lip between her teeth. I spread her lips with mine and, just as her tongue reached out to mine, I stepped back and out of her legs’ embrace. She looked at me, frustrated, yearning, pleading. It was absolutely adorable. I giggled as she writhed, bound and squirming.

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