tagLesbian SexFelt Up on the Train Ch. 05

Felt Up on the Train Ch. 05

byFfylip©

Author's Note: Sorry that this chapter has been a long time coming. Life circumstances change, but I hope now to be able to dedicate more time to writing, so look out for more stories soon. Feedback, comments, and messages are always welcome.

My name is Beth. I'm 18 years old. I was born in Scotland but my parents moved down to London when I was 8. I guess I had a fairly normal childhood. I've always been a bit too shy to be in the really cool group, but I've got plenty of friends, and I do pretty well at school.

We used to talk about sex in Primary School, all of us wanting to make out we knew all about it when we didn't really have a clue. Then in secondary puberty hit and we began to work things out a bit more for ourselves. I guess like most of my generation, porn was a big educator - we have the internet, and however hard parents and schools tried to block access there was always someone who managed to find the images and videos we kids weren't supposed to see. Through watching things and just experimenting with my body I worked out pretty quickly how to make myself feel good. I guess you could say my sex drive is healthy - I usually masturbate a couple of times a day - but talking to my friends I'm fairly normal I guess.

I suppose this all started a few months back when I was just playing around on the computer and I came across some videos from Japan where some guys get hold of a girl on the train and basically rape her. There was something about them which made me keep watching even though they disgusted me. I think I was drawn to the control idea, but I kept thinking how much better they would be if the girl was a willing participant and seemed to enjoy it. I'm not sure I found any of them who really seemed to have an orgasm, or to look anything other than scared.

And believe me, I looked really hard - I tried everywhere to find something similar but different, if you see what I mean. And I couldn't find it. But I couldn't get the idea out of my head. I was masturbating so much imagining it. And gradually I began to tease myself with the idea that if I couldn't find a video that showed what I wanted to see, maybe I could create it in real life.

It was risky, I knew it was, but I began to look out on my train journeys for women who it might be possible to act out the fantasy with. And for a while it was just fantasy, and believe me I got lots of pleasure from that. But then fantasy became not enough and I felt myself drawn to try to make it reality.

I tried with a couple of women, pressing myself up against them as if by accident, squeezing their bottoms, things like that. They all moved away or reacted negatively. One woman got really quite pissed off and created a bit of a scene, which scared me for a couple of weeks, but something forced me to keep trying. If I'm honest I guess it was becoming a bit of an obsession, every time I wanked it was the only thing I was thinking about, as if I couldn't get off to anything else.

Then one day I spotted you boarding the train, and managed to get myself standing behind you. You had on a loose fitting skirt, just exactly like the women in my fantasies. My heart was pounding - I so wanted to touch you, but how would you react - the train was really crowded, and if you were upset there was no way I could get away.

The first touch was actually accidental. The train jolted and I lost my balance, and only as I regained it I realised my hand was resting against your bottom. You didn't seem to have noticed, so I left it there, and after a couple of minutes I plucked up the courage to begin to stroke you gently. You noticed that! You looked at me, and at the man the other side of you, and did you glare at him! If looks could kill. But of course it wasn't him, and by turning away from him you played right into my hands, literally, as I had much better access to you then. It was easy to reach down and run my hands up under your skirt and... well, you know what happened next.

You have no idea how much it turned me on to have my hand in your knickers. You got so wet, but believe me I was matching you all the way, and I wasn't being touched. I wanted to make you cum, but then we were arriving into Victoria and I knew there wasn't going to be time, and I panicked as to what you'd do when we had to move and get off the train. I bolted out of that door onto the platform quicker than I would have thought possible, and put some distance between us before I dared turn and look back.

But I did. I hid myself behind the newspaper kiosk and watched you stumbling off the platform, looking slightly dazed and dishevelled. You didn't see me, but I saw you as you made your way over to the toilets. And I know what you did in there. Or at least, I have a pretty good idea. Because I followed you in there, and as you were locked in your cubicle making yourself cum I was in the next one, leaning against the wall, listening to the panting of your breath and your stifled moans as my hand was buried between my legs giving myself an orgasm every bit as intense as yours.

And that wasn't the only orgasm I had that day, far from it! I spent the day soaking wet at the thought of what had happened, and kept having to sneak off to give myself some relief. Until finally I got home and I just lay on my bed and wanked myself raw, replaying over and over again the events of that morning.

The next morning reality hit. I had crossed a lot of boundaries, and I didn't know how you'd feel about it. I deliberately avoided your train after that, and every time the phone rang or there was a knock at the door I became very twitchy. What if you'd somehow managed to find out who I was, where I lived? What if you'd come to tell my parents what I'd done? Even worse, what if it was the police?

But as days passed without hearing anything I began to relax a little. I seemed to have got away with it, and I knew that was how I should leave it, a good experience which I had got away with. But I couldn't. Because every time I replayed that scene in my mind it felt unfinished. Every time I withdrew my fingers and dashed off the train, leaving you hanging, dripping wet, but still unsatisfied. I had to know what it felt like to finish the job, to feel your pussy tighten around my fingers, to see the look on your face as you gasped in pleasure, to feel the wetness flowing from between your lips.

But how was I going to make that happen. Even if you wanted it to, I first had to find you again. I'd only seen you the once, I didn't even know for certain whether you travelled in every day, or at the same time every day. And even if you got that same train each time, 8 carriages on a train, hundreds of passengers, would I find you?

But I knew I had to give it a go, and so I started timing my journey to hopefully be on the same train as you. No sign of you the first day, or the next, or the next. By day four I was slightly giving up hope, when I spotted you, getting on the train into the carriage where I was already sat. I cursed myself for not having thought this through better. I was halfway down the carriage, in a seat, and you were standing in a crowd of people by the door. There was no way I could get to you without it being very obvious indeed, and then what, "Hello, nice to meet you, can I finger your pussy again?" No, I had to make sure I was by the door, ready to move myself into position when you got on. But at least I now knew that I was likely to meet you on this train, it was only a matter of time...

So imagine my surprise when you moved yourself, walked down the carriage and stood by my seat. Was that deliberate? Were you wanting more? Or had you not even realised it was me, was it coincidence? I was too scared to move for a while, but I knew I'd never live with myself if I didn't at least try to find out if you were interested. And of course you were, and you responded to my touch. So hot and wet again.

But again I'd left it too late, and we were coming into Victoria and I hadn't made you cum again. I was so cross at myself, as I started to pull away from you, but then you grabbed hold of me, pulling my hand harder against your clit. I could feel it throbbing, and I realised you were on the edge, and so I rubbed as fast as I could, willing you to cum, and then I felt your pussy tighten around my fingers and your whole body spasm and shudder as you climaxed hard. So hot, I flooded my own pants as I came a little too as your juices poured out over my hand.

I so wanted to talk to you that day, but my nerve failed me. What if you hadn't really wanted me to do that? What if you got mad at me? What if someone else had seen? What if I got dragged off to the police station for public indecency? So I ran before you got chance to say anything to me. But I hated myself for it. I spent the rest of that day wishing I'd had the courage to stay and talk. I was being stupid to think that you hadn't enjoyed it, if you hadn't wanted it you could have moved, or shouted, or something...

I couldn't know for certain what was going through your head. But I knew what I was thinking - I wanted more! Fuck did I want more. I went through that day in a hormone induced daze, alternating daydreaming about our encounter with running to the bathroom to bring myself to orgasm after orgasm as I replayed every detail of what had happened. By the time I finally collapsed into bed that evening I was exhausted, my clit was rubbed raw, and I was still confused about the whole thing. But one thing I knew for certain, was that it wasn't over yet.

I got up early yesterday morning and got an earlier train than usual - a whole hour earlier - I wasn't going to miss you! I got off at your station and stood on the platform, waiting for you. It was the only way I could think to make sure for certain that I would see you. By that point I had convinced myself that you must have been happy with what had happened, that you too would certainly want more. I had fallen into a daydream, in which you breezed up to me on the platform, all friendly and chatty, inviting me to put my hand up your skirt and finger you once again. So I was gutted when I realised that you had slipped past me without even saying hello, and that far from inviting me to pleasure you, you were dressed in a way that made it very clear that wasn't going to happen. How could I have got it so wrong?

All my pre-prepared dreams of what would happen and what I would say shattered at that moment. I'll admit I was nearly in tears as I got onto the train. I'd made you feel so good, why didn't you want more? Why had you ignored me? Why had you blocked me?

I got such a shock when I felt your hand on my arse. Not that I was sure it was you to begin with - you don't need me to to tell you how some men will take the opportunity of a crowded train to 'cop a feel' under the pretence of just being squashed into a small space. Mind you, I guess I can't complain, because that's exactly what I did to you isn't it. And then you did it to me, your hand making its way under my skirt. I wasn't wearing any panties, not because I'd had any idea you were going to take advantage in that way - though believe me if I had, I would have been prepared! But I'd got so wet already that morning with all my fantasies that I'd had to remove them and slip them into my bag. I was already so turned on by the time you slipped your fingers between my legs and found my clit. I could have cum straight away, but I wanted to make it last so I held on as long as I could. Still not long though, your fingers felt so good stroking through my slit. I came so hard, couldn't quite believe I stayed on my feet. And that time, at least, I managed to stay calm enough to communicate with you, to tell you that I wanted to meet with you again this morning.

I hardly slept last night. I was so excited to now know for certain that you wanted this as much as I did. That you were willing to reciprocate and give me pleasure confirmed what this was growing into, and who knew where it might end. I lay in bed gently stroking myself, imagining it was once again your hands on my arse, your fingers on my clit, your gentle touch making me feel so good. I came really hard and drifted off to sleep but I woke up an hour later my pussy drenched, my clit throbbing. I rubbed myself to another good cum but that pattern kept repeating itself - dozing off only to wake from fitful dreams with my hand buried in my pubes, coated in my juices. Eventually I gave up and got into the shower to clean myself off, but I was so aroused I couldn't even wash my pussy without bringing myself to climax another twice!

You wouldn't believe how early I got to your station this morning. I could hardly keep still, I was so excited. Checking every 10 seconds to see if I could spot you even though I knew it would be at least another hour before you arrived. My mind kept playing over how I should greet you - a casual hello, a big hug, a kiss? Then what would we do? I wanted to get my hands into your pants again, but then you had made me feel so good yesterday, maybe we could both do each other today. Whatever, we'd have lots of opportunities to do them all today and other days, this was going to be so great.

Then in one phrase you destroyed it again, "We need to talk." I didn't know whether to cry or shout. I didn't understand, still don't if I'm honest. What was there to talk about? We'd had fun, both of us, I knew that. We both wanted more fun, I was sure of that too. So why talk? Why not just play?

I didn't want to appear like a sulky teenager. But I knew if I stayed to talk to you there and then I would burst into tears. I had to get away for a bit, get my thoughts together, adjust to this new reality. By the time we got on the train I was a bit more composed, but still very confused. And as my mind got itself back into line, I realised I was also very horny. My brain was gradually coming to terms with the changing situation, but my body hadn't yet caught up. It had been promised play, fun, and orgasms, and it was still wanting them. I really wasn't intending to start playing with myself - I just pushed my hand down there to try to pull the clammy wetness of my knickers away from my body. But as I did so I brushed against my clit, and it just felt so good. I looked round and no-one seemed to know what I was doing, including you at that stage, so I decided to give my body what it wanted. I hadn't been playing long when I noticed you staring at me and looking a little flushed. I couldn't see if you were masturbating too, but I imagined you were, and that gave me the most intense orgasm.

And I knew in that moment, that if there was any chance that this might be our last fun together, that you wanted to talk in order to tell me that you didn't want to do this any more, then I had to make sure I got one last opportunity to touch you - some final memories to fuel my masturbatory fantasies in days to come. That's why I told you I needed the toilet - I knew that the cubicle locks could be opened from the outside and that I would be able to force myself in upon you. I didn't really think it through to be honest, I was just fuelled by lust by that point, I just had to have you. My finger running through your slit, feeling your juices, rubbing your throbbing clit, bringing you to orgasm one more time.

You seemed to enjoy it, but then once it was over you brushed me off again, cold, distant. I don't know anymore, what do you want? Are you angry at me, upset? Are you going to turn me in to the police, tell my school? Do you want this to go anywhere? Do you want to end it? Or would you like to have more fun? I don't know. You asked me why I am doing this, and I've tried to tell you. But what do you want, why are you here?

To be continued...

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by Anonymous

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by mountaincat408/13/18

Where have you been?

Brief but gives some insight into why these arousing activities started. I get the impression you still haven't made up your mind about where this is going. I'm still hoping you will not turn this intomore...

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by Anonymous08/12/18

Happy that you're back!

Exciting to see you continue this story. This time don't disappear again!

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by fishingrod4808/11/18

Continue Soon

I find this story intriguing please don't wait two years to continue you should continue as soon as possible. Once more five stars

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by Anonymous08/10/18

IT FORMS A BRIDGE TO ADVANCE THE STORY, BUT

after two years waiting I suppose you will understand a lower score here. Don't cease your effort to write this story and thanks for sharing it.

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