First Class

She sat across from me, not even noticing me. With a nonchalant gesture she set the short red skirt, then turned her gaze, concealed behind black glasses, through the window, to the people crowding the train station.

I observed her, charmed before I could realize it.

Surely into her thirties, black almost short hair, somehow wild. Her face of a natural olive complexion, small chin, regular nose. Her eyes, a mystery.

Her light red suit - in a resolute shade, as resolute the look on her face - clothed a graceful body of which I could appreciate the length of her unveiled legs and the mild neckline

She kept her gaze on the window even when the train moved, firmly watching far beyond the landscape running outside.

Only a glimpse to the stewardess to whom she asks for a coffee. Still, my presence wasn't noticed at all.

I turned my attention back to my reading, trying to conceal the increasing interest gathered by my travel mate, but couldn't help to return, every now and then, to slide my gaze form the printed pages to her legs, to her tight lips - lips that I figured made to rather smile.

A phone rang annoyingly. She roused and took the device from her purse.

"Hello".

I could hear her sound, loud voice.

She listened for a long minute, then "No."

I saw her biting her lower lip, shaking her head, tilting it back, deeply breathing and eventually, with clear voice: "Marc... fuck you!!" shutting the call off.

The phone dropped on her lap. From behind her sunglasses, twin tears lines started to mark her cheeks.

I probably should have diverted my gaze, out of modesty or respect, but I did not. Instead, I took a tissue out of my pocket and placed it on the small table between us. For several minutes her tears kept flowing slowly, quietly, her black glasses stuck on a far place beyond the mountains.

I tried to read again, not putting much effort into it, When I raised my eyes again, few pages after, the tissue was in her hands, taking off last wet traces from her face. She were still not watching me, but a contact had been established.

The train was running along the coast, siding crowded beaches, stopping at a couple of tourist places where some passengers left and the wagon went soon almost empty.

The lady dosed off, her arms wrapped around her breasts, her head tilted on the back of the seat. I looked at her face relaxing, her body giving in, the arms slowly falling into her lap.

I got back to read, but after few moments my attention was caught by the physical contact of our feet: the relaxing, the train swinging were making her lightly slide down the seat toward me.

I noticed that the skirt were raising along her tanned thighs: I couldn't help but tilt my head and got rewarded by a glimpse of salmon panties. Did nothing to avoid her ankles to rub into mines.

The woman moved into her sleep and crossed her legs, exposing part of a perfect round buttock.

The contact and the sight were arousing me, so gave up with the book, abandoning it on my legs.

She was sliding further, so her legs were almost rubbing on mines and I could catch some muscular contractions of her thighs against each other. Just like a contraction which got to repeat slow and pace less; left leg, straddled on the right one, slowly raised and fell causing an imperceptible rub of her thighs as well as her calve on my own leg. Small vibrations under her eyelids revealed she was dreaming, which kind of dreams were pretty clear to me.

The situation was making my heat growing further than just the summer could explain, and some sweat started to wet my forehead.

I watched hypnotized those thighs stroking into each other more and more intensely for several minutes. The contact between us made her excitation pass on me, and I realized I was breathing at the same pace of her strokes.

Her own breath was getting heavier and shorter. At a stronger shake from the train she moaned and woke up. Dizzy, she uncrossed her legs so, since her skirt were considerably raised, I could spot a large wet dot on the fabric of her panties.

She got aware of her position and of my gaze and for the very first time she looked back at me. She said nothing, neither changed her expression. She just rose up on the seat, closing her legs but neglecting to set the skirt back in place.

In spite of her dark glasses, I was sure her eyes were stuck on me. Feeling a little uncomfortable, I didn't divert mines, neither smiled or said a word. In my mind I was thankful the book on my lap were concealing the hard on inside my pants.

She bent over, just to waste the tissue she had held in her hand so far. Then she reached for her purse, stood up, turned her gaze on me once more and walked along the hallway, eventually lowering her skirt.

With all my senses on fire, I watched her disappear inside the wagon's cabinet.

I waited for the train to move again, then I addressed myself to the same place. Approaching the end of the coach, I noticed that the led which should have informed the travellers of the toilet being in use was off, so I wasn't totally surprised when I checked the door and found it unlocked.

I stood still for some seconds, my heart hammering in the chest, refusing to rationalise what I was about to do. I grabbed the handle and opened the door.

She were standing in front of the washbasin, half naked. The suit's jacket fold and resting on the purse, placed on a ledge. I realized her tan was without lines.

She paused from searching in a small case to look at my reflex in the mirror: the sunglasses still denied her gaze. She did not speak, did nothing to cover her breasts, nicely shaped and firm. She just watched at me quietly.

I slipped inside and, to shut the door, I was forced to lightly press my body on hers. She didn't show any shock or worry as I locked the door. I returned her gaze with the whole intensity I was feeling.

With no hurry, no hesitation, I placed my hands on her sides. The warmth of her skin hit me like a whip. Under my fingers I felt the smoothness, quite silky, of her texture, her muscles tensed.

My hands slowly moved up as I placed my lips on her right shoulder, at the base of her neck. She tilted her head back a little with a soft sigh, but did not say or do anything else.

The lips and the tip of my tongue traced a delicate drawing of kisses along her neck to the back of her earlobe. Her skin was lightly salty, without any artificial taste and just for that even more inviting.

I slipped my hands below her breasts, pressing my palms on her flat belly.

In the mirror I saw her lips parting in a silent moan, her back arched to press her bottom against me, trapping my erection between our bodies.

I sucked softly her earlobe and raised my hands toward her breasts, never moving my gaze from the mirror. My hands wrapped each breasts as in a cup, testing the consistency. Thumbs travelled up the outer curve and then slowly toward the dark areoles.

Never pausing from kissing, making her bend the head forward, I rubbed my lips on the nape, through her hair, to reach the left ear. I felt her nipples tightening and a soft moan escaping her mouth. Her back arched to push her waist harder, the firm roundness of her buns pressing the hardness in my pants. She moved slowly on me, as a wave in pace with the train swinging, a masturbation quite alike the one I was giving to her breasts.

I nibbled the earlobe as I gave a tight squeeze to her boobs before releasing them and let my palms slide on her belly and aside on her waist, moving on the belt of her skirt. I started to lean slowly, keeping my lips in touch with her back.

A flash of awareness crossed my mind, immediately removed by the arousal and the delightful madness of the whole situation.

My hands run along the short length of the skirt to the lower edge. As they got in contact with her bare skin again, we both were crossed by the shock.

I crouched on my toes, my face in front of her bottom, hands sunk beneath her skirt to wrap her thighs in more and more intimate strokes. I had traced a wet line of kisses along her spine, now I bent to press my lips on the tense fabric.

I felt her bending further, offering herself: I lifted her skirt and repeated the kiss on the tiny salmon strip sinking between her cheeks. My hands filled of her, squeezing and parting.

I moved to kiss her skin, licking it with my tongue tip, nibbling softly, toward the middle. My fingers crawled to grab the panties edge to slowly lower them along her waist, just followed by my lips.

I rolled the garment around her thighs, which she were trying to spread wider. The scent of her pleasure filled my nostrils, intoxicating and exciting me even more.

Instinctively I brushed her inner high thigh's flesh with my mouth. I heard her moan as I moved further in, breathing deeper as the taste of her wetness got on my tongue. Impetuously, I shoved my face between her thighs, greedily licking the curly lips of her sex.

I was shaken off my half-unconsciousness when the addressee of my kisses escaped with a swift move. Still dizzy, I just heard her voice panting.

"No... not here... not here..."

I crouched still watching her as she turned to face me: her glasses were gone and she was covering her face with the hands. Her raised skirt and the panties rolled around her thighs were framing a protruding mound, barely outlined by a trim of dark light hair.

I held back from diving to kiss again those open labia and stood up. With my right hand I caressed her head, the other wrapped her waist. She lowered her hands so I finally could see her eyes: dark, deep, flaming.

She leaned into my hold, her gaze glued into mine. To feel her bare breasts pressed on my chest made my hardness start so much that she felt it for good. Smiling, she had her hand sliding between us to place it on my bulge. She squeezed lightly to feel the shape, stroking slowly with a long movement from the head to the perineum, involving every portion of my genitals.

I felt her shiver as I placed my hand in the middle of her back, moaning again when I cupped her boob.

Then she smiled again, squeezed my penis harder, pushing me softly away.

"Not here, I beg you.."

I placed my lips on her forehead. When I parted from her she smiled, leaning her bottom and hands on the washbasin frame behind her, her bare breasts stretched out as a constant call for me.

I looked at her standing like this, almost naked, naturally sensual, totally at ease.

"Go back to your seat, now. I'll set up and catch you there."

Her voice barely topped the train noise. I nodded, checked myself in the mirror, then went off the cabinet.

The daylight helped me to clear a bit. But I didn't know what to think, what had happened was far beyond my chance to rationalise. I got back to my seat just to find myself staring the couch across me like to find a shadow of her.

My fantasy fled to imagine how, where, when. Which hotel could I have led her? I had to adjust my position several time to not hurt my still hard cock.

The trains slowed down, the rail tracks opened as we were reaching a new station. I caught the movement at the end of the coach when she get off the toilets, her red suit properly settled over that body I could still feel under my hands, the sunglasses back in place to conceal her dark eyes.

I stared at her as she steadily walked along the hallway up to our row. Instead sitting back, she stopped at my side and smiling she bent over me.

"Would you please hold that for me?" she asked aloud placing a small bag on my lap. Without waiting for my reply she just stood and continued along the hallway as the train were stopping. Before I could realize, she went off the train, walking toward the underpass. She disappeared downstairs addressing me a long, last gaze through he window.

I rested there, amazed, aware I would not have seen her ever. Later, her easiness would have amused me, but in that moment I had hard time to subdue my frustration.

Then the train started, moving again and I recalled the bag she had left in my hands.

I opened it, watching inside and smiled. On the bottom of the l'le bag, she had left her still wet panties.