tagLetters & TranscriptsHardly the Mile High Club

Hardly the Mile High Club



I bet you just watched me walk down the train, and you've turned back to the table and found I've left this paper behind. I haven't left it by accident. It's a message to you. Yes, you, the guy in the blue shirt. The one who checked me out and smiled so gorgeously when you sat down opposite me at the table. It's a simple message: I want you to fuck me.

It sounds stupid. I don't even know your name, and I'm too nervous to speak to you. Even now, you're watching me, with no idea of what I'm writing, and I don't know what you think of me. I get the impression you're quite impressed with my boobs, but you're too polite to stare. You don't realise that I don't mind how much you stare. Cos I'm staring right back, secretly, and undressing you with my eyes.

I wish I was undressing you with my hands, but for now I'm just going to have to imagine your firm, rippling body, strong manly arms, and your big, long, strong, hard, cock. I can see by the shape in your jeans that I'm doing something good for you, and I can just imagine what's in there, and what it would feel like to have it pushed so hard between my legs.

I really, really want you, and I'd let you have me now, across the table, so everyone else in the carriage would have to watch your cock pounding between my thighs. I'm not a nymphomaniac or anything weird. There's just something about you that makes me want you so much.

I'm going to stop writing for a second and suck my pen, as if I'm thinking about something.


And I was thinking about something. First I was thinking of that gorgeous cock of yours on my lips, then slipping gently into my mouth and playing with my tongue. Then I imagined it rubbing down my body, over my boobs, before finally finding its place in my warm, wet cunt.

I just want you to fuck me so much. I don't care what you're like, or whether you want a relationship. I just want your body pressed up against mine, under me, on top of me, inside me, forcing yourself so deep that I can't walk straight in the morning.

I'll do anything you want. As long as you fuck me properly, you can do anything else you like. I'll let you take me up the arse if you want to. I'll let you come all over my face. I'll suck your cock and swallow all your cum. I really would do anything. Even whip me, spank me, tie me up. As long as you fuck me, I don't mind. I'm not into the kinky stuff, but I want you so much.

I can tell by the way you're looking at me that you're at least a bit interested. Of course, yes, they're natural. How would a girl like me get money for fakes? And more to the point, why would a girl with these need fakes? I hope you like a girl with a lot to handle. I see you've got big hands.

In a moment I'm going to stop writing again. My bag is on the overhead shelf, and I'm going stand up, reach up there, and put my phone into it. When I reach up, you are going to be watching, and I'm going to do it all very slowly so you get a good view as I lean over the table.

I hope you'll look impressed. I might even jiggle my boobs at you (I'm so pleased I wore this top today). Maybe I'll even turn round so you can get a good look at my firm, round little arse. If not, you'll see it when I'm walking off the train. Here goes.


Oh. My. God. You are so cute. That was such a lovely smile. You took it all in without being pervy, then looked away again. I couldn't turn round because it would have been too obvious, so I'll leave that as a little present for you when I go.

I see you've put your newspaper on your lap and are staring intently out of the window. I can only imagine the monster of a hard-on hidden in your jeans, and how good it would feel if you gave me a damn good pounding with it. I just want to feel you inside me. Maybe you're imagining the same thing. I hope you are.

So yeah, my boobs are all natural, and so is my hair. Some people pay a fortune to get hair this colour, b ut I'm all natural. Some people call it ginger, but it's light auburn. I hope you like it. [crossed out: downstairs matches too, but I keep that shaved].

You are still checking me out. I'm trying not to smile too much, and I'm even daring to hope that you'll speak to me. But I want you so much I know I'd say something silly and spoil it for both of us. You don't look like the talkative type anyway. More like the strong, silent type, so you can just keep silently undressing me with your eyes. My nipples are going hard just thinking about it. I'm really hoping that they're not showing through my top, but I can't look down or touch them without making it really obvious. But it doesn't matter. I want you to enjoy me, every part of me, in every possible way.

I can just imagine you kissing my nipples, and the thought of it is making me wet. I hope it won't show. But I can't look down or touch myself cos I know you'll be watching. I don't know what it is about you, but I am just so desperate for you to fuck me. I know you'd enjoy it too.

I wonder what you think I'm writing. Probably an essay or something, or a letter. I hope you like the surprise when you finally read it. I hope you read through it getting harder and harder and harder, wanting to rub your body against mine, to thrust yourself into me, and run your strong hands all over my body. I want you so much. And you would never guess how wet I am. Keep staring.

So, this might have scared you off. I might have wasted half an hour writing this, and never get the pleasure of your big, strong, long, hard, cock fucking my tight, wet, pussy. You've probably got a girlfriend (you're too good-looking to be single), but I'm going to suggest something to you: you can fuck me next week. I'm going to be on this same train Saturday, the 1553. I'll sit in the second carriage again, and you, if you want, will sit there too. I'll wear my pink top (if you like my boobs, you'll love that top) and the most indecently short skirt that I can find. Once we pass Bridgewater, I'll walk to the toilet cubicle. A minute later, you will join me. Tap twice on the door, and I'll let you in. Then, there, you can give me what I want.

Do it however you want, for as long as you want. I like to think you'll shut the door and press yourself against me, kissing me hard. Your big warms hands will be all over me, lifting my skirt, grabbing onto my bare arse and holding me so close to you, so tight I can hardly move. I don't know what bra I'll wear, but one you can slide it off easily, to get your hands and your mouth and your cock all over my boobs.

I'll take your shirt off, and press myself against you, hearing you breathing. I'll slide my hand into your pants. I want you to wear trousers that make it easy for me. Ones that let me get to your cock quickly and easily. I'll kneel in front of you and suck you until you're hard enough, and then you can unleash your pleasure on me. I want you to fuck me up against the wall, like an animal. I'll bend and I'll twist: I used to do gymnastics, until my boobs got too big, but I'm still very, very supple. Bend me right over. Be as dirty as you like, and fuck me harder than you've ever fucked anyone before. If I shout, hold my mouth and stop me. They'd probably throw us off the train if they found out what filthy things we were going in there. O god I want you so much. I know fucking on Great Western Trains is hardly the Mile High Club, but I'll make it worth your while. Really I will.

There would be no commitment, no names, no phone numbers. If you don't want to carry on, go back to your seat as if nothing has happened. I won't mind.

You're still watching me write. I think you must be able to see my nipples through my top. Either that, or you've noticed I'm going red as I write this. I am feeling so fucking horny right now. And I'm so wet I'm sure I'll leave a damp-patch on the seat when I go. I really hope you can't smell it, but my panties are so completely soaked with sex I can't ignore it. I wish I wasn't wearing white trousers. I just want you to fuck me, so much, right now. You must be able to smell it.

But, back to next Saturday. If you get your little treat and don't want any more, just leave. I don't know your name, you won't know mine. After a week you'll begin to think it was all a wonderful dream. If you do want more we'll get off the train at Taunton. There's a hotel by the station, and we can go and get a double bed for the night. Then, you can have me properly. Fucking, and fucking, and fucking, and fucking all night long. You wouldn't need to say anything if you didn't want to. We can communicate with our bodies, and I assure you now, my body's got a hell of a lot to say. You might even have something to say with your mouth, but you wouldn't need any words for that.

I see you're still looking at me. I really hope you can't tell what I'm writing, but I know I'm probably bright red now. I'm practically orgasming at the thought of you, and what you are going to do to me. Please don't talk now. I think I'd just come, instantly.

Now, we're nearly at my station, so I'll have to stop writing and casually leave this on the table for you. One last little treat though. I'm going to reach into my bag, get my blue fleece, and put it on. Then I'll look out of the window, decide I don't need it, and pull it off again. When I take it off, my shirt's gonna come up too, so you're going to get a little private peek at what's underneath. I want to make your pants as wet as mine are.

Then I'll readjust my shirt, get my luggage off the overhead shelf (enjoy the view) and bounce off up the corridor, with you checking out my arse every single step of the way.

So, I shall see you next Saturday, if you want me half as much as I want you. Remember, loose trousers. And when you see me in that little skirt, remember that the only things underneath are my pretty pink pussy and my tight little arse. And they're both waiting for you.

With love, kisses, and whatever else you want,


The Girl on the Train


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