She had come out of the fortune-tellers a changed woman. Pausing only briefly at the entrance, she looked around her for a moment and walked briskly to the train station. She stood in the throng of the station concourse, examining the departures before walking into the ticket office. The train she chose was leaving in only a few minutes, leaving her no time to sit around and ponder what on earth she was doing.
Instead she boarded the train with nothing but her handbag as luggage. She found an empty compartment and sat down just as the train jolted into movement. She sat back into the seat and closed her eyes, feeling the motion of the train picking up, settling into a rhythm. Gradually she began to relax, feeling her entire life up to this point losing it’s hold on her, leaving her, left behind in the city she had called home.
Staring out the window she watched the city that was once familiar to her change, become something foreign, something exotic. The frequent stops at stations showed decreasing crowds of people milling about, waiting, watching, wrapped up in their lives, watching the train arrive, watching it leave.
Her reverie was broken after one such stop, when the door to the compartment opened. Looking round, she watched a smartly dressed, middle-aged man enter, flowed by an attractive, equally well-dressed woman on indeterminate years. Obviously a couple of many years, she watched them enter, remove their coats and sit down with a book and magazine, respectively, without a word between them. Neither did they catch her eye, despite sharing the same small carriage.
The young woman sat back in her seat and regarded the man sitting opposite her. He seemed younger than she had first thought, but seemed moderately successful, but dressed a little more formally than men that age she was used to. She turned to look back out the window, crossing her legs as she did so. A slight movement out of the corner of her eye made her glance back at the man. He still seemed to be reading his book, but something about him made her think that he had been watching her.
She crossed her legs again, this time watching him closely. Right enough, as her legs crossed, she could see him glancing up at her legs. This interested the young woman. She had never been aware of how others might see her, had only ever been aware of the pissed up young lads up town she had hurried past late at night. This was different. She let a shoe drop quietly to the floor, and began to let her stockinged toes rub against her other leg, slowly, softly.
She knew she had his attention, could almost fell him tensing up, his eyes staring over the top of his book, following the hypnotic movement of her feet. She glanced across at the man’s companion, engrossed in her magazine. No sign there that she had seen anything. The young woman had never felt this sort of power before, had never even flirted with a man. But all that had changed. Now, she could be who she wanted to be.
Her hands went to the hem of her skirt, and gently lifted it a fraction up away from her knees. The movement had not gone unnoticed. The man’s eyes travelled up her legs and settled on the newly exposed inch of thigh. As he stared, she pulled the skirt up another two inches. He seemed hypnotised by the sight of her thighs, the dark material of her stockings giving them a dusky smoky look. Another inch, and she could see she had revealed the beginnings of her stocking tops. This hadn’t gone unnoticed. Glancing up she could see the man’s face flushing slightly, the slight movement of his hips as he tried to get comfortable.
The power she felt she had over this stranger sent a thrill through her. She could do anything she wanted. She could feel the horror of her old self, the memory of who she was as she slowly, deliberately parted her legs. She could feel the cool air rushing over the bare skin above her stockings, and knew that the man would be able to see, quite clearly, the pale skin there framed by the raised skirt and the stockings, her panties just out of sight.
A rustle of paper shocked her out of her thoughts. The man’s companion was no longer reading her magazine; that lay discarded on the seat. Instead, the man’s partner was staring straight at the young woman.
The expression on her face was unreadable, but it was clear that she was totally aware of what had been passing between the young woman and the man. Carefully, the woman raised from her seat, stepped across the compartment and sat down next to the young woman, a mere 3 inches separating them. Just as the tension became almost unbearable, the woman broke the silence.
“Don’t stop. He likes to watch. Don’t you, dear?”
Her voice, like her clothes, implied breeding, taste and class. As the meaning of her words sunk in, the young woman realised how tense she had become. Her breath came out of her in a long sigh, as she realised her adventure was still continuing.
Watching out the side of her eye for the woman’s reaction, she opened her legs further, pulling the skirt up slowly until her thighs were revealed, glowing pale white in the light of the carriage. The man’s eyes were transfixed on her legs, a faint sheen of sweat visible across his face as his breathing began to speed up.
“That’s it, let him see your panties. Make him hard.” The woman spoke insistently, quietly beside her. “Give him a show.”
These words had an instant effect on the young woman, emboldening her, exciting her, making her blood pump faster, hotter. She had never felt such a lust for a life like this, such control of her life. She had never felt so willingly out of control,
Her hands started to stroke up and down her thighs, passing over the smooth silkiness of her stockings, over the warm flesh of her thighs, brushing her panties, feeling the humid heat radiating from them.
The man was now plainly fully erect in his trousers, his hands rubbing over the lump in his trousers.
“Show the pretty girl how much you appreciate what she is doing, come on” The woman commanded him across the compartment.
“Show her your cock’
The man immediately pulled open the buttons at his waist, lowered the zip, and reaching into his underwear, pulled out his erect cock. Sitting there, he held his cock up, the foreskin pulled back, revealing the engorged head, slick with precum.
“Rub it for her, wank yourself, let her see how much you are enjoying her”
His fingers started to slide slowly up and down, each down stroke revealing anew his pleasure, his excitement, his enjoyment.
The young woman licked her lips at this sight. Opening her legs wide, she pulled her panties to one side, showing off her sodden pussy, her pubes soaked already. The man whimpered at the sight of this, increasing his rhythm.
“Oh, look at that” The woman said softly with a sigh. “What a beautiful wet cunt she has.” She leaned forward and looked down between the young woman’s legs.
“Mmmm I can smell it, can’t you? Do you think she should play with it for you?”
The man’s head nodded vigorously.
Immediately the young woman delved her fingers deep into herself, biting her lip not to cry out with the relief. It felt so good to be sliding her fingers in and out, her fingers immediately soaked with her juices. It felt so good to be so exposed, to be showing that most intimate part of her to these two strangers, to know she was being a slut, being everything she had never dared to be before now.
She leant back, her eyes half closed, only just aware of the man’s frantic pumping of his cock opposite her, while she drove her own fingers in and out and around the wet flesh of her cunt, her free hand holding back her panties, while flicking a finger at her swollen clit.
For a moment she wished she had shaved herself, so that these people could see everything. Maybe she would as soon as she got a chance, she promised herself.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the woman unbuttoning her blouse.
“Let him see your breasts, my dear, they look lovely. I am sure he will cum just at the sight of them.”
The young woman lay there, legs spread, fucking herself, as this woman unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her white lace bra. Pulling down one cup of the bra, the woman released a breast. Cupping the breast in her hand she turned to the man.
“What a perfect breast! Look at it, look at the smooth perfection of the skin, the curves, this nipple, begging to be played with.”
With this she let her thumb rub up and down over the nipple, rolling it around, eliciting a whimper of pleasure from the young woman.
The man moaned, as if in sympathy, leaning back and stroking himself harder. His fist was coated in his shiny slick precum, his hips rising to meet the strokes.
The woman’s hand left the woman’s breast as she stood up. The young woman making a keening noise in her throat as the lovely sensations from her hand ceased.
The woman knelt down in the space between the two benches, and lowered her mouth over the stretched purple head of her partner’s cock. Turning to the side a little, she started to bob her head up and down on the penis, sucking noisily, while looking up at the young woman.
The young woman leant forward to watch, her breast still hanging free out of he blouse, her 3 fingers pushing into her cunt in time to the woman’s strokes. She watched the woman reaching between his legs with both hands, one hand encircling his cock, pushing his own hand away, the other delving deep into his trousers, obviously squeezing his balls in time to her movements.
Her head continued to suck at the cock, as her hand took up the rhythm, wanking him off into her mouth. The saliva and cum was dribbling over her hand, coated his cock, and smeared across her face.
This sight was enough for the young woman, as she felt the spasms building up in her, knocking her off her rhythm, raising her ass off the seat. Her eyes closed, her mouth clamped shut as she tried to hold in the shout of triumph, of ecstasy, she started shuddering with such a powerful orgasm, she thought she must explode.
Awareness came back to her slowly, the sounds and movements of the train, the cool air in unexpected, private places. Lifting her head, she looked at the couple opposite. The man was sagged back in his seat, his flaccid cock hanging limp out of his trousers, a small drop of cum staining the dark material.
His partner was kneeling upright on the floor, staring straight back at the young woman, a slight smile on her face. Her immaculate clothes were rumpled, her makeup smudged, lipstick non-existent. Instead, her lips shone with a wet glisten, a dribble of cum on one side of her mouth, down to her chin.
Looking back at her, the young woman pointed to her own chin with a grin. The woman, understanding, raised her hand and wiped the back of it across her mouth and chin. Still holding eye-contact, she licked the cum off her hand, her small red tongue slipping in and out of her lips, leaving little strings of saliva.
The moment lasted until the rhythm of the train changed, slowed. Glancing out the window at the countryside as it slowed its passage past the windows, she stood up, brushing down her clothes. Looking down at her man as he pushed his cock gently back into his underwear, she held out her hand. The man took it, and stood up, still slightly unsteady on his feet. As the train came into the station, she opened the compartment door, guiding him out. As she reached the door, she stopped, turned and regarded the young woman.
She had yet to move, and was still sprawled across her seat, legs wide, her pussy still wide open, exposed, only partially covered by the wet material of her panties, her breast on view as it lifted and fell with her breathing. Her face flushed, a contented smile on her lips.
The woman smiled, uttered a single word, and left.