**Title: The Train Station Encounter**

The railway station was packed, bodies pressing against each other in the suffocating evening heat. I had just missed my train, cursing under my breath as I watched it pull away, leaving me stranded for another hour. That’s when I saw her—a young woman in a tight salwar kameez, struggling with her heavy luggage, sweat glistening on her neck.

She was petite, delicate, but with a fire in her eyes that told me she wasn’t going to take any shit. I liked that. And I liked the way her hips swayed as she dragged her suitcase toward an empty bench.

I didn’t ask. I didn’t need to. The station was chaotic enough that no one paid attention when I slid onto the bench beside her, our thighs brushing. She stiffened but didn’t move.

“Kaha ja rahi ho?” I murmured, letting my fingers trail over her knee.

She glared. “Aapko kya? Hatt jao.”

I smirked. Bold. But the flush on her cheeks told me she wasn’t as disgusted as she pretended. I leaned closer, my breath hot against her ear. “Teri chut mein daal doonga, randi. Chikne kapde pehanke ghum rahi hai, logon ko tease karti hai.”

She gasped, but before she could protest, my hand was between her legs, gripping her thigh hard. “Chilla mat,” I warned, pressing my palm against her pussy through the thin fabric of her salwar. She was already wet.

I didn’t wait. The station was loud, the announcements drowning out her sharp inhale as I yanked her salwar down just enough to expose her bare cunt. No panties. Fuck.

“Saali ki chut geeli hai,” I growled, shoving two fingers inside her without warning. She whimpered, her nails digging into my arm, but her hips rolled against my hand. I curled my fingers, rubbing hard against that spongy spot inside her. “Haath hatao—” she begged, but her voice was shaky, her thighs trembling.

“Nahi,” I said simply, adding a third finger, stretching her tight hole. Her back arched as she bit her lip to keep from moaning. The station crowd pushed past us, oblivious to how I was finger-fucking her right there on the bench, my cock throbbing in my jeans.

I pulled my fingers out, slick with her juices, and smeared them over her lips. “Chaat,” I ordered. Her dark eyes flashed defiance, but when I pinched her clit, she opened her mouth, sucking my fingers clean with a whimper.

“Achha randi,” I grunted, unzipping my pants. My dick sprang out, thick and hard, already leaking. I grabbed her wrist and forced her to wrap her fingers around my shaft. “Hila.”

She hesitated, but the moment I tightened my grip on her waist, she obeyed, her small hand jerking me roughly. I groaned, tilting her face up. “Muh khol.”

She did, and I spat into her mouth before shoving my cock past her lips. She gagged, tears welling in her eyes, but I didn’t stop. I fucked her face, my hips snapping forward, her throat working around me. “Aisa chus, randi,” I growled, gripping her hair.

When I pulled out, her lips were swollen, saliva dripping down her chin. I didn’t give her time to recover. I bent her over the bench, hiking up her kameez to expose her round ass. One hard smack, and her skin flushed pink.

I pushed into her with one rough thrust, her tight cunt clamping around me like a vise. She cried out, but the noise dissolved into a moan as I fucked her deep, my balls slapping against her ass. “Kitni tight hai,” I panted, grabbing her hips to drive into her harder.

Her fingers clawed at the bench, her breath coming in gasps as I pistoned into her, the wet slap of skin filling the air. I reached around, rubbing her clit in rough circles, and she came with a strangled cry, her pussy squeezing my cock like a vice.

That was all it took. With a growl, I buried myself to the hilt and came, pumping hot cum deep inside her. She shuddered, her legs giving out as I pulled out, my spend dripping down her thighs.

I tucked myself back into my pants, watching as she straightened her clothes with shaky hands. Her face was flushed, her lips bruised.

I leaned in, kissing her roughly before pulling away. “Agli baar panty pehen ke aana,” I smirked, walking off without a backward glance.

The next train’s whistle blew. Right on time.