Investment bankers can be great fucks  

lordemeraud 50M
19 posts
1/11/2006 11:18 pm

Last Read:
5/4/2007 9:51 am

Investment bankers can be great fucks


It was quite late when I had to travel from Basel to Zurich yesterday night. To be precise, I headed to board the 0.08 train with a first class ticket. Not that I particularly like to go by train, but considering the circumstances, it was the fastest way to go from the private bank I was dealing with - located near Basel main station - to Zurich airport, where I was to sign a consulting contract with a US client. This client was scheduled to land in Kloten around 1am in his private jet, and I had set up an office in the airport business center. I don’t sign contracts at 1am, unless I know the client very well, and the deal is in the seven digits range.

Ok, I will stop boring you with irrelevant details, just telling you that I was damn tired after a sixteen hour negotiation marathon, heading towards another meeting that would potentially end in a lake of champagne with a cheerleader team and an ugly headache the next morning.

At Basel main station, there is a nice restroom place that is kept kind of very clean. Those who are familiar with the setting know that it’s located in the basement, and it’s called McClean. I headed for one of the sinks, removed my shirt, had a little wash (I would not have the time in Zurich), and put on a new shirt with a new tie. I then headed for a cabin; here I’ll stop the details about what for, ok? I locked the door, had a seat, and started business, when I heard a moan in the cabin next door. Then silence. Moaning again, louder. Besides being visually triggered, I am also triggered by that kind of noise, and believe you me; my cock starting to get hard told me that these sweet sounds were originating in some female vocal chords in a pleasant situation. At least for her. Having kept silence for a few seconds, moaning started again, followed by “Oooooh fuck!” Ecstatic whisper, and I thought that, my god, she must have a damn good fuck on the other side of this paper-thin wall, separating my cock from her juicy pussy, and with that the subject of this thought finished growing and was locked in his preferred “Ok I’m ready to fuck, man, just show me the lucky hole” position.

The moaning picked up again, this time with some rhythmic schema, typical for an expressive, well-fucked female that plays the vocal cords in the rhythm of the throbs. I couldn’t help it, grabbed my shaft and started to masturbate, and soon played my vocal cords, too, as I am an expressive male. To say the least.

She moaned, I moaned, she said “Fuck”, I answered “Oh yes”, she said again “Oh, fuck it”, and I said, throbbing, “Oh yes, I fuck it so hard.” So we played, until … no, no cum. I just ran out of time, so I wrapped up my still rock hard pulsing cock, flushed, and went out to catch my train.

A couple of minutes later I occupied a place in the otherwise empty first class wagon, which was of the sort not having separated compartments but just pairs of opposite seating rows. I opened my laptop, my cock still bulging my pants, set to change my ideas, and to decrease the level of free testosterone in my blood to a sustainable value. The slide door opened and somebody entered, I was just firing up the word processor with the contract to revise the key points.

When I looked over the top of my screen, she was taking place in the next seating group ahead of me, on the opposite side, so that I had a view on her. From the glance in her eyes I could tell immediately that she was the one next door. Only unreasonable high levels of free-floating fuck-me-now hormone produce this kind of glance. Not that she had been a dream by herself. She was brunette, long straight hair falling over her shoulders, quite slim, but not too much, she had an average face I wouldn’t have turned around for, but she had an attitude. When she looked at me, straight in my eyes, I knew that she knew that I was the guy next door.

She removed her coat, and jacket and took a seat. She was dressed business, with a knee-long grey skirt, white blouse, thin black nylons. Nice legs, as far as I could see, and the contours of her tits that I could just guess from the shape they gave to her blouse were looking nice and firm. She pulled out the Financial Times, and unfolded it, hiding everything but her legs that were yet lady-like crossed. Well, well, I thought, a horny fuckable investment banker with an attitude, and while my brains desperately tried to assemble the letters on my screen to words and the words to some meaning, the bulge in my pants went growing again.

She just turned the pages one by one, and I finally understood my contract work again. When I just began to regret that I didn’t cum in the restroom, her legs opened, and between her thighs appeared what was one of the nicest pussies I’ve ever seen in my live. Nicely shaved, smooth shapes, her lips slightly opened, because she was probably as horny as I was, her clit yet hidden. And so was the rest of her, behind the Financial Times.

I was just offered that view for a couple of minutes, tried to refocus on my contract, and that was damn not easy with a huge cock pulsing in my pants. She continued to turn page by page, slowly, as if reading, and perhaps she was. Perhaps she was just sitting there, reading the latest news about Apple and Alcan, and didn’t even think that I was staring at her slit with a tool as hard as steel and more than ready to give her the fuck she was aching for in the restrooms.

It turned out that I was wrong, because a minute later, her hand appeared beneath the newspaper, pulled up her skirt, and found her pussy, to start playing with it. Her fingers played with her lips, spread them apart, pushed them together, ran up and down over them, found her clit, circled around it, slowly first, then faster. Her hips started to move left and right, pushed forward, and I saw a finger disappear. Then the hand disappeared again behind the Financial Times. My hand in turn had found a place on my crotch and I had started a little massage.

When her hand reappeared between her thighs, her body and face still hidden behind the journal, it held a cock-shaped dildo. A kind of huge cock-shaped dildo. The tip of it was run over the pussylips up and down, massaged the clit, and was then slipped between the lips, where most of it’s incredible length disappeared. Amazing. She started to throb, pulling it out and pushing it in, faster and faster. Then slow again. Then the door opened.

“Tickets please” a voice asked, and her thighs went shut, this enormous shaft still inside her, the skirt was pushed down, and the Times was put aside. I showed my ticket to the guy, who thanked me and went over to her. While he was examining her ticket, and punching a hole in it, click click, we were looking straight in each others eyes, and this made me even more horny. I was completely sick for her, and I could hear my cock shouting at me “I want this pussy!”

The ticket man disappeared, unless he was a completely desensitivized idiot, he must have smelled the hormone level in this compartment. He probably was. As soon as the door shut, her thighs opened in turn and now she was pushing up her skirt completely, and put her feet on the opposite seat, wide spread. She grabbed the shaft still sticking in her and continued working on it. I just couldn’t stand this anymore, put aside my laptop, unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock, that was not as huge as the tool she used, but huge enough! And I started stroking.

Her eyes were quickly rushing down my body to my cock, but then her glance caught mine again, and while masturbating we were just staring in each other’s eyes. She adapted her rhythm to my strokes, and I started to vary, faster and slower, very slow, pulling my shaft virtually out of her, and pushing it in again. She followed, and followed, and with all that she didn’t lose my eyes.

Then, finally I thought my dream would become true. She was telling me to come over to her, just by a sign made with the hand that wasn’t manipulating her toy. Without leaving my cock out of my hand, I stood up and went over, still stroking. She let me stand between her open legs, her feet resting on the seat opposing to her besides my legs, so she was sitting in front of me. While still throbbing that huge thing into her pussy, she unbuttoned her blouse, and she had a damn nice belly with sixpack contours, she must work out every day, and her firm tits were just a dream.

I was starting to get down on my knees, when she shook her head. I hesitated. No fuck? Her hand ran over her body, and I understood.

I did cum violently, and shot my load over her body, over her tits and belly, and she watched me, she stared at me, increased her speed, and helped with the second hand rubbing her clit, until she finally pulled out her toy while still rubbing with the other hand. And a true fountain opened up between her thighs, her juices jerking out of her pussy, between and over my pants, pulsing, and splashing on the floor.

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