Carrages at Dawn

Carrages at Dawn Carrages at Dawn

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Virgin Trains . . . surely not!

Summary

Virgin Trains . . . surely not!

Content

Submitted: November 01, 2015

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: November 01, 2015

A A A

A A A


Carriages At Dawn

My fingers trailed lazily across the top of my thigh. It was smooth and silky, and warm beneath the soft, charcoal fabric of my skirt. A grown-up version of my old school skirt, I thought, as I remembered how it used to fit; wrap-over and button down the side. My stocking tops were lacy, snug without pinching, not hold-ups today; something more feminine... more sexy. As I shifted in my seat, I could sense the movement of my suspenders, tugging slightly, reminding me I had dressed to undress. I was going to see Dawn tonight.

I had known Dawn since university. We'd spent a debauched night on the Backs after Caius summer ball and become firm friends but only occasional lovers. Dawn isn't gay; I don't smoke... but I savour the occasional Cuban cigar. Sometimes we just talk, companionably, over dinner; often we can't keep our hands off each other. It's a tactile experience... the journey of discovering what lies hidden more important than the promise of the destination. So tonight I wore doors in my wardrobe and as the steward refilled my glass with a ruby red taste of France, beneath the table my fingertips snuggled in my downey warmth.

Evening trains are always relaxing. There's something comforting about being in a warm carriage, speeding through the darkness towards the promise of a lover's arms, knowing that out in the gloom, the world is going about its business, oblivious. I was feeling mellow now. Is that why they serve wine in such large glasses? A sedative for the travelling classes imbuing everything with a rose coloured hue? I don't know... but as I gazed at my iPad, all around me was just a little soft at the edges and not quite real.

It was a message from Lucy that I saw, winking in the corner where I nearly missed it. I smiled and tapped to open it. We had been swapping emails for a while; Lucy had read some of my stories and I loved her comments, but we hadn't been able to chat before. Now, at last, we were talking and it was so easy; just like we had known each other for ages. Small talk at first, but there was electricity in the air... an erotic static teasing at the periphery of my senses, urging me to abandon myself to this woman I hardly knew.

“I'm on the train to London,” I told her as my left hand moved higher up my thigh, my fingers finding the crease at the top of my leg, “...visiting my friend from college for the weekend.”

“I live in London, too,” she told me... and I felt a tingling in my tummy. “What a pity you're meeting someone; what are you wearing?”

Gosh... I glanced around; there were other people in the carriage but no one in direct line of sight.

“Well,” I wrote, tracing my fingers below my left breast, feeling the swell of my nipple through the softness of lambswool, “I'm wearing a grey jumper with a scoop neckline and long sleeves, and I have a silk camisole under it.”

My nipples were hard and I slipped my hand under my jumper, cupping my breast and teasing my nipple with my thumb. My mouth was watering and I could feel the familiar sparks igniting deep within me.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes...”

“What are you doing?”

“Sliping my hand inside my skirt.”

“You can do that? On a train?”

“Yes, It's slit up the side with buttons; I feel my bare leg at the top of my stockings...”

“Are you wearing knickers?”

I relaxed in my seat, my knees parting slightly under the table. My fingers found my suspenders and the tickle of neatly trimmed hair. I gasped a little and looked at the woman sitting across the aisle; she was engrossed in her Kindle, shoes kicked off and feet on the seat opposite. Her legs were long and slender, and sheathed in black leggings. I imagined how they would feel as my fingers discovered my wetness and the first wave pulsed at my touch.

“No... no, I'm not. God, Lucy, I think you're getting me hot.”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Yes..”

“On a train!”

“Yes... it's lovely, Lucy.”

My fingers slipped between my folds and I felt the carriage receed. Circling my special place and dipping in and out of my wetness as my pleasure gradually built up... Slowly, oh so slowly; I daren't cry out and I mustn't move too obviously. Eyes keeping watch, I paused as someone walked by, wraith-like in the fog of arousal.

“Lucy...”

“Yes?”

“It's going to happen soon...”

“Can you really do it?”

“Yes...”

“On a train?”

“Yes...”

Tiny movements now, each one adding, building, pumping the wave. Getting so close; so near; just a little more... I feel the pleasure growing in that well below my tummy as my nipples scrunch tight sending a cascade of tingles across my breasts that burst and shower sparks over my skin. I feel my lips open like a flower and I know what is coming is past my control and about to break over me... when my eyes snap open to see the steward refilling my glass, an enigmatic smile on his face. I smile back and freeze, knowing my blush is clear for all to see as the heat rolls over me. As the glass is full at last and he tears his eyes away from mine, I feel my muscles pulsing around my fingers, now stilled but still inside me, and as the steward moves on, the waves break over me, overwhelming me and I fight to stifle my gasp.

“Cee?”

“Yes...”

“Did you...”

“Yes...”

“Oh my God!”

I smile to myself and touch my fingers to my lips. They have the scent of fresh mown hay and a taste of salt. Glancing around, I lick them like I've had a sticky muffin. I feel the warmth between my legs and a glow in my tummy; everything feels right with the world.

“Shall you tell Dawn about this?”

“Oh yes,” I reply, “She will just love to hear about this!”


© Copyright 2017 ClaudiaNovotny. All rights reserved.

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