Naked on the Train

And she probed and probed with tongue and fingers, while occasionally releasing a spasm of ecstasy from the reciprocal probing below. Her own vagina was feeling so tender, so sensuous, so vulnerable as Emerald nibbled around its lips, her fingers probed almost knuckle deep into the moistness which was engulfing them, and her thighs shivered and trembled, and her buttocks pushed themselves up without thought against Emerald's mouth, just as she could see her lover's crotch push up and down against her face. Blood filled her ears and she was unable to distinguish her gasps and the occasional cry from the rumbling clickety click of the steam train over the countryside tracks and the occasional hoot from the steam engine. She barely noticed even the roar as the train entered a tunnel and all went pitch black and steam flooded the carriage. But she noticed the train's emergence as, with a flood of bright morning sun, she was once again able to appreciate the folds and contours of Emerald's crotch, so damp and sticky and burning with such unfamiliar warmth.

So intent was she on her lovemaking, that Beatrice hardly noticed the train slow down, the rhythm of the tracks becoming steadier and slower, and then come to a full stop at a station. She and Emerald continued exploring each other's crotches, the tongues slowly transferring their attention up the stomach, over the breasts and back to the mouths again, fingers still deep in each other's crotches, two, even three fingers, sticky and moist inside the welcoming holes, juice easing down the vagina and onto the pursed entrances of their anuses. Neither girl noticed as a young woman's face peered through the compartment window, a broad brimmed hat sheltering her eyes. Nor did they notice as the train picked up steam, and with a loud hoot, slowly began to pull out of the station. Behind the train, the guard lowered his large red flag while the train rumbled on.

But the girls did notice as the door to the compartment slid open. With a shriek, Beatrice looked up and behind her, almost relinquishing her hand from Emerald's crotch, as the woman who had peered through the window slid the door close behind her. She wore a pink and blue summer dress and was carrying a book in one hand while a straw bag was slung over her shoulder. She smiled at the girls, and then sat down at the opposite side of the compartment from where the two girls were, just by the door to the corridor, and continued smiling while she straightened herself. She lay her bag by her side and placed her hat on top of it. Then, with no comment, she opened the book she was carrying and started reading it; seemingly more engrossed in fiction than whatever the girls were doing.

"What do we do?" hissed Beatrice, with Emerald on top of her and their bosom and faces squeezed close to each other.

"We continue," whispered back Emerald. "She clearly doesn't want us to disturb her reading, so why should she want to disturb us?"

"But …" began Beatrice, but too late before Emerald's mouth was once again glued to hers. Somehow the fact that there was someone else in the same compartment as them gave an extra impetus to their lovemaking, even if that someone seemed more interested in the works of E. M. Forster than in the girls' passion.

At first this passion was more subdued, fingers stroking the outer surface and not exploring deeper, kisses more limited in scope, and tongues kept inside the lips. But gradually, as the young woman continued reading, occasionally crossing or uncrossing her legs, and more frequently turning a page of her book, the two girls returned to a degree of passion which was if anything more than that they'd experienced before. Even as they erupted in cries and shrieks, the young woman seemed barely to raise her eyes to see what was happening.

Even when Beatrice felt a sharp fingernail slide into her anus, lubricated by saliva and vaginal juices, there was no reaction from the young woman. Unless the slight adjustment of her skirt were some kind of a response. Beatrice had never had a finger in her anus before. It felt strange. Quite unnatural. And slightly sore. But also, as the finger pushed deeper into her, the very tightness of the aperture gave her a spasm of pleasure she'd never expected. Beatrice didn't feel like reciprocating, and she wasn't sure that her reluctance was evidence of politeness or lack of consideration. The leather of the seat beneath her was hot and sticky and clammy, while Emerald's body above her was slippery and liquid and warm and firm.

And then the door to the compartment slid open again.

"Tickets please!" announced the guard.

With a start, the two girls sat up and hurriedly searched for their train tickets in their bags. The guard stood at the door, an impassive expression not betraying at all what he might think of the sight of two naked young girls, wearing only shoes and socks, with sweat pouring down their faces, hair damp and unkempt from the selfsame sweat, a glossy shininess on their chests, stomachs and crotches, and rather foolish faces. He took the girls' proffered tickets, clipped them and handed them back with only a smile and a "Thank you."

The young woman took rather longer than the girls to find her ticket, which eventually after rummaging in her bag, she located in a side pocket of her dress. This was the only evidence that either of the girls had that the woman might have been at all flustered by their lovemaking. He clipped the ticket, stood by the door and bade the compartment farewell with a "Take care!" and was gone.

However, this coitus interruptus was sufficient to halt the girls' lovemaking. Emerald put back on her underwear, skirt and blouse, while Beatrice sat opposite looking at her with a sad and slightly desolate expression. When Emerald settled down again, once more the innocent schoolgirl, Beatrice smiled.

"Shall we write to each other?"

"Write?" wondered Emerald.

"Yes. Letters."

"Of course. Of course." Replied Emerald, who had no such intention of doing so. "We must exchange addresses."

And so while Emerald wrote down the fictitious address of one of the girls from Blessington High who featured in her magazine, she thought all the while of how she would relate her adventures of having sex on her way back by train to a fresh term at school. It certainly beat Edith's story of how she lost her virginity. Or even Belinda's story of how she'd made love to the maid-servant. And it really didn't need much embellishment either.

She smiled at Beatrice as she shyly handed over the neatly handwritten address of her school. Such a sweet girl! thought Emerald. Too weird though to have as a long-term prospect. This naturism thing was fun, but it wouldn't help a girl find a good match or a secure future. And she was even now rehearsing in her mind all those little details of her story which would make it so much more exciting when she'd tell her friends. And then the three of them would collapse together on the one bed, a mass of flesh and passion, fired up by her story of her making love while naked on the train.