This the third instalment in the teacher Stacey series.
Stacey spreads a teaspoonful of marmalade thinly on to a piece of toast, the sun lit up the balcony on her penthouse apartment overlooking the river Thames and tower bridge. The river surface sparkled from the rays of sunlight cascading on to it. three months have passed so quickly for Stacey since she followed her husband Bruce to London. She felt her choices were limited after the embarrassment of being caught by the whole congregation of the 12
th
grade prom fucking the old janitor. Apart from the chilly weather and rain, she was enjoying London. She missed California; who would not. She often thought back to hot days bikini clad in their garden, being fucked by the bad boys in her class, Greg her fat smelly neighbour and even the homeless men who trapped her in the park toilets and wouldn't let her out until she sucked their smelly dicks, mostly these thoughts materialized during sex as a mental stimulation. Bruce was happy with his new job; Stacey thought his boss was a pig, he looked like a fatter version of Tony Soprano from the Sopranos. Stacey returns cerebrally to the two homeless men from the toilets. She has breezed past so many homeless men during her brief time in England's capital, she must admit her heart skips and her pussy twinges at the thought of being fucked by them. Stacey has a job private tutoring Michael; eighteen-year-old son of Colin, Bruce's boss.
Stacey has a day off today so decided to ride the underground into the Centre of London for some retail therapy and meet Paula; a wife of one of Bruce's work colleagues. Paula was a once attractive fifty-five-year-old woman who now wears far too much make up and as had a lot of cosmetic surgery. It's a late September morning and the temperature is a warm sixteen Celsius. Stacey still isn't shy in showing off her fantastic thick figure and huge breasts. Black thigh high stockings and black lacy bra and thong combo are covered by an orange flared dress sitting just above the knee, a beige pair of short heels complete her look as she slips on a red knee length duffle coat. She looked in the mirror, still casting a striking resemblance to the actor Salma Hayek.
Stacey headed towards the nearest tube station with a spring her step and smile on her face. Many despised riding the tube, but Stacey loved it, the busier the better. She boarded the overfilled carriage gripping an overhead hoop to steady herself, awaiting the inevitable bumping and grinding. The train bumped along rocking the carriage from side to side. Stacey gripped the leather covered hoop above her head tighter, her other hand held the plastic grab handle at the top of a single seat. A man dressed in business attire gestured for Stacey to sit in his place. Stacey agreed and swapped positions with the businessman, he is probably early forties with a round belly which stretched the buttons of his undersized white shirt to their limit. He isn't the most attractive man; a scruffy beard and old pair of glasses cover most of his face and there's a slight aroma of body sweat, so much so that Stacey pulls out a bottle of Coco Mademoiselle and aims a mist of perfume at him slyly not so to upset him. Stacey can't help thinking of Greg when looking at the man. Her mind turned to California and Greg fucking her on her garden day bed. Train chugs along and the man's crotch accidently keeps banging against Stacey's shoulder. Stacey felt sorry for the man, that's how it started with Greg her old smelly next door neighbour. The journey had about fifteen minutes to run with stops and Stacey felt aroused and was now ready for some fun. She stood in front of the man to slip out of her coat.
"Can I trust you to hold my bag sir?"
"Umm, yes umm sure." the man nervously replied.
"Thank you, kind sir."
Stacey bent over in a way that flashed the top of her huge breasts to the man. The black lacy cup of the bra that held her breasts up also on show; even though the firmness of them meant they didn't need much help defying gravity. Stacey turned brushing her bubble butt against his crotch before returning to her seat. The closer the train was to its destination the lighter the carriage was of consumers. The man saw an empty seat and turned to rest his legs on the torn fabric seat. Stacey had other ideas; she wanted some fun. The main reason she rode the tube was for fun with strange men. Her long nailed manicured hand gripped his thigh, the other hand opened the zip on his trousers. His small dick dropped out right in front of Stacey's luscious red lips. The man nervously gripped her hair, Stacey's tongue searched for his soft dick before flipping it into her mouth. she held it tight in her mouth, pulling it as far as it would stretch and then back. The man looked at the ceiling of the carriage as pleasure built up in his body. He placed his briefcase style leather bag up by her head to shield her actions from the few remaining passengers. Stacey stretched his penis until she could finally feel it expand and firm up in her mouth. As the train sped into its destination. Stacey quickened up, the man started to find some confidence he yanked at Stacey's hair and fucked her mouth.
"hhhmmmmm!" Stacey moaned as the man pushed his penis down her throat. Then with no warning, the stranger shot his cum inside her mouth, it was sticky and clung to the roof of Stacey's mouth. Stacey just picked up her things and left to depart the train. She didn't glance at the man who she had left there still with his penis hanging out of his trousers. Stacey grabbed a bottle of water and washed down the claggy dry sperm that coated her mouth.
She met Paula at restaurant/cocktail bar on the banks of the Thames. The sun still shone brightly motioning Stacey to open a large parasol endorsed by a popular wine manufacturer. After about the third long island tea the subject of their sex lives and the daring places they have had intercourse. Paula is astonished as Stacey reels off story after story about her exploits in California.
"Old janitor, homeless, your smelly neighbour and pupils of yours. You really are a little slut." Paula replied with shock.
Stacey hadn't even mentioned her little adventure on the train this morning.
"I can beat that. Colin."
"Bruce's boss?"
"He might be a greasy sleazebag but fucking hell he can fuck."
"Really? Big dick?"
"Big enough Stace. He just knows his way around a woman's body. Everybody's wife as fucked him. It will happen believe me."
Stacey was in so much shock, she missed Paula shortening her name to Stace; which she despised. The pair separated and Stacey headed towards the station to catch the busy tube home. Her mind turned to Colin and why the wives of his employees would have slept with him. As she stared into the horizon through grime-stained window her concentration was broken by the train announcer.
"There is a twenty-five-minute delay. Sorry for any inconvenience, we are working as fast as we can."
The problem was all the talk of sex and thinking of Colin, Stacey was feeling a heat between her legs. The delay had scuppered her plans to get home and fuck Bruce on the balcony. Her immediate dilemma was the heat raising up from her wet mound and attaching itself to every sensitive part of her body. Her nipples sprung up stretching through her bra and dress. She scanned the carriage for a lucky hero who could put out the fire building in her loins. Just as she gave up hope into the carriage walked three Arsenal football supporters.
"Arsenal! Arsenal!" the loud anti-social behaviour of the supporters created a quick exodus of the carriage, leaving Stacey alone with the three hooligans. Two of them were drunk and overweight, the other was a good-looking younger guy; in his early twenties. The fabric of the older guys red and white football jerseys being stretched by their large beer bellies.
"Get your tits out, get your tits out for the lads." sang the men. Stacey strolled over to them and after slipping off her coat, she obliged. Dropping both of her olive-skinned large orbs out of her bra and dress. She raised up her dress exposing her thigh high stockings and thong and sat on the double, graffiti covered seat.
"Come on then boys. Are you going to fuck me?" two of the men at once clamped their mouths around her nipples. An older man with balding grey hair and a younger better-looking man with a thick lock of blonde hair. The third man kept look out. Stacey's nipples were being sucked and chewed. The older man frantically tried to yank her thong down with so much intensity it almost pulled her off the seat. She had no choice but to lift her thick ass up, to stop him tearing her expensive lacy lingerie. These men were not here to take their time and Stacey wanted it that way. Stacey snarled at the older man; his four thick fingers buried deep inside her drenched vagina.
"Fucking rub her clit, son."
"Okay dad, better not tell mother about this." the blonde man joked as he feverishly rubbed at her erect sensitive clitoris. Stacey twisted her body slightly releasing the men's cocks from their jeans, she had to slightly lift the older guy's tight football jersey. Still the third man kept watch taking no interest in the carnal action of Stacey and the two strangers. She frantically took each cock in turn switching from one to the other.
