She needn’t have whispered. She could have just said the words aloud, embarrassing me profusely, causing me to quickly apologise and move seats. I would have had to have accepted the guilt thrust on me by all the other passengers as they stared accusingly at me.
But, she whispered.
At first, I didn’t register anything. I thought she was talking to her phone or something. Then she said it again and I looked up from my book and turned my head towards her grinning face.
I had to respond, there was no other option. My heart started shaking, fluttering, though not in anticipation, far from it. My throat dried out completely, I was well and truly caught off guard.
“I wasn’t staring,” I said eventually, “but, yes, they are very nice,” I continued.
She bit her lip and smiled at my confession, eventually turning away to look out of the train’s window.
I too looked out of the window, dropping my gaze to the swell of her breasts as I returned my eyes to the book. I raised my head to look forward and then stole another sly look at her soft and very smooth skin that was struggling to be contained; my thoughts stumbling forward at a rate of knots.
It wasn’t her fault that fate had sat us together on the same train.
I had just started concentrating on my book once more when her voice butted in.
“I’m waiting?” she said.
“Waiting for what?” I responded. Thinking she wanted another confession out of me. A reason as to why I couldn’t keep my eyes from browsing her assets.
She raised her hand, the one closest to me and tugged the side of her blouse, releasing it from her skirt. I watched, thinking she must have been hot. Yet the temperature on the train was comfortable.
“Waiting for you to put your hand up here and cop a feel, you’re obviously enamoured with them?”
My heart rate shot up. I looked at the gap formed by the blouse and her skirt. My eyes diverted once more to the ample flesh on display. Somehow the show of flesh was naughtier than what she was suggesting and yet my hand started to shake on its way, almost in slow motion, to the gap between her clothes.
I heard a sharp intake of breath as fingers touched skin and worked their way up inside. Something made me look around, the thought of CCTV cameras burst into my mind but I couldn’t see any. My eyes settled on her flesh once more as I tilted my body and pushed my hands up over her bra and onto her bare flesh. I watched my fingers dig into her soft skin.
Her breathing was intense.
“I think you’ve just soaked me,” her words barely audible.
I could only presume she wanted me to touch her there too. I squeezed her breasts in my hand before removing it, raising the hem of her skirt and placing it just below her knee. She shifted in her seat, pulling her skirt up from behind, parting her legs as much as the confined space would allow.
My fingers followed her lead. Her chest was heaving, her eyes closed, her breath controlled yet inconsistent with the calmness of the rushing countryside.
My fingers reached between her soft thighs and over her mound. We both let out a gasp at the same time, her in anticipation, and me because of the contact with her delicately smooth lips and lack of knickers. Her secretions coated my index finger which easily parted her lips before slipping inside her. Not far, just enough.
She was panting while at the same time nodding her head affirmatively, encouraging me with her silence.
My finger had been wiggling for only a few seconds before her eyes opened wide as if frightened by a ghost. Her chest was heaving to the point of her bra almost losing its content to my eager gaze. I wanted to thrust my face upon her breasts and feast on them.
She climaxed sooner than I expected. Her legs shuddered trapping my fingers in her wet hole.
I too was breathing heavily and I had hardly done a thing. My cock had tented my trousers, but her effortless orgasm had brought me back to my senses. What had I done? On a train and with a complete stranger?
I suddenly became aware of her controlled breath, calmness descended upon her and the silence was almost deafening. Her legs slowly relaxed and I carefully extracted my hand, lifting my fingers to lick them clean.
The woman next to me smiled and then turned to me.
“This is the first time I -“
Her words were cut off by the demanding tone of the conductor.
“Tickets please…” she shouted.
Then the tannoy kicked in, “the next station stop is London Paddington.”
Just as well I thought. We both rummaged around to find our tickets, her in her purse and me in my back pocket.
With our tickets snipped and the train slowing, words seemed inappropriate.
“I wanted to say,” she turned to me, “that that was the first time I had ever done anything like that.”
“Me too,” I confided, “definitely a first for me too.”
“Thank you,” she said turning towards me.
“What for?”
“That was the quickest I have ever climaxed.”
I went for the cheeky retort, “me next then!”
“Deal,” she announced, “what time train are you getting back?”
I thought about it for a split second as the train started to empty. Worker ants flooded onto the platform and started to race towards the underground.
“I must dash,” I said and headed off with the rest of them. I could see the disappointment on her face. Over my shoulder, I shouted.
“Four forty-five, C66.”
I just about caught the glimmer of her smile as I exited the train.
