I Stripped Julie on an Amtrak Train

I kept slowly pulling until almost half of her right nipple was out from under the dress. The way the fabric was now stretched lightly pinched at my wife's breast, literally squeezing about half of her ripe pink bud into the open, slightly raised up by the compression of her gown pushing down on the still covered half. My heart was pounding so hard I was afraid it might wake Julie.

Without moving my head I carefully opened my eyes more than the squint I had frozen them at. Right there next to me was the most erotic sight I had ever seen. Here on an Amtrak train lay my usually modest wife, sprawled out sleeping on an aisle seat under bright lights, in her low cut strapless black velvet gown, which clearly was riding lower now than previously. The pitch black contrast of Julie's strategically rearranged gown framed her exposed white body and made my wife look almost more naked than if she had been nude. The slit of Julie's skirt was pulled wide open exposing much of her thighs, more than enough to incite any mans imagination. Her bolero was flipped off her chest leaving virtually all of her barely clad breasts starkly visible, but the crowning glory was my wife's right nipple, oozing out from beneath black velvet, clear as day.

I couldn't believe this was really happening but I thought I would get away with it. I was wearing a full Tux, Julie was in an evening gown. We were obviously respectable people who had come down for Bush's inauguration and fallen asleep on the train going home. I left it with Julie's nipple only half exposed because I knew that would seem more believable than if I tried to pop most of her breast completely out of her gown. To be honest though, I think my wife looked more erotic this way with her modesty more subtly betrayed. Julie was a vision of innocence violated, sleeping peacefully, completely oblivious to her blatantly erotic public display.

About this time the train slowed down to make a stop in Philadelphia (or a suburb, I can't remember) and I became a delirious but near total nervous wreck. I knew we would get busted if anyone realized I was actually awake, so I kept my head snuggled against Julie in a natural sleeping position. Unfortunately that meant I couldn't see very much through the slit in my eye lids from that angle, but I was determined not to move a muscle. What I could see were people's legs when they moved down the aisle past us on the train, which happened several times as people rose to get off the train. I strained to hear any comments but my hearing isn't so good anymore, my best ear was pressed against the seat, and there was back ground noise to filter out.

More people got on Amtrak in Philadelphia than had just departed, and at least 7 or 8 people walked right past the seat Julie was sprawled across half naked. Again though, my impaired vision and hearing kept me from confirming anyone's obvious reactions to the spectacle of my wife lying exposed right there next to them. They had to see though. Everyone getting on a train looks at all the seats that they pass by, that's how you decide where to sit. And there was no missing Julie, with her lush 36C's swimming out of her low cut strapless black velvet gown, the skirt parted into a wide delta suggestively revealing my wife's shapely thighs.

So I was thrilled of course, but again with that nagging hint of frustration. The day still lacked a defining Voila! moment, when some stranger looked at my wife and totally lost it, when I knew he was viewing Julie as a sexual object with absolutely no pretense of hiding it. It was about this time that the conductor entered our car to collect fares from the new passengers who had just gotten on, as I could hear the familiar call, "Tickets please", approaching from the seats behind us.

The conductor was a large guy, probably in his 40's and handsome enough, with a short just starting to gray black beard. And he was sociable. When he collected our tickets in DC, he engaged us in some light conversation. I wasn't sure if he was checking Julie out then, but if he was he kept his composure. But that was before my wife fell asleep and I went to work on her gown. He hadn't returned since I transformed Julie's attire (or lack of it) from a formal example of elegant sensuality to a brazenly raw sexual display. This was the real test of my resolve to violate Julie's modesty in public. However friendly he might have been before, the conductor is the voice of authority on a train, and I knew as he moved slowly down the car he was certain to notice my wife half nude on the aisle where any passenger could find her.

Would he decide to wake us to cover Julie? She would absolutely freak and I shuddered to think of that scene. But knowing that this conductor, a man who 45 minutes earlier stood joking with my wife, would soon find her completely defenseless and laid out to please him like a gift wrapped sex toy, excited me. This was invasive. It meant peeling away the last shred of Julie's privacy. Offering my exposed wife now to a man she had talked with earlier made Julie's public humiliation somehow much more intimate, and the thought was too intoxicating to resist. It was the middle of the night and there were no kids on the car. I decided to roll the dice and leave Julie as she was, nearly stripped, fully lit, sleeping helpless in her seat.

Of course I was as nervous as I was excited. To quote an Eagle's song "This could be heaven or this could be Hell". I had my eyes almost completely shut now, and I could just see a sliver of the aisle through my eyelashes. Believe me, I was taking no chances that the conductor might figure out I was really awake. I saw his coat brush past our row as he stopped at the seat in front of us to ask some woman for her fare. Absolutely no reaction. Damn, Damn! How could he gaze at my wife's near lewd display, and then just go about his business?

Then it happened. In mid sentence the conductor completely lost his train of thought, stuttered and went silent. Finally he laughed and managed an apology to the passenger, openly confessing that sight of Julie splayed out in the seat behind her had totally absorbed his attention. I couldn't catch all their words, but this lady clearly had noted Julie's compromised condition earlier, because she assured the conductor that his distraction was quite understandable. He followed up with a direct comment about Julie's state that I couldn't quite make out. All together they chatted for maybe a minute, making small talk over my disrobed wife, though it definitely felt longer to me. Finally the conductor resumed his journey down the aisle and it was over.

The rest of the trip is sort of a blur. I know I left Julie in that condition for some number of minutes more before she stirred slightly in her sleep. Afraid that she would open her eyes and notice her nudity, I flipped Julie's bolero back over the gown where her nipple was falling out. Then I quickly closed the gap in her skirt a little, though still leaving a lot of her thigh visible. We rode a while longer till I realized I was pretty tired also. It felt too risky to potentially nod off and lose all control of the situation, so I tugged Julie's gown up just enough to recover her nipple and left my wife sleeping that way, as the train stopped several more times before pulling into Penn Station, where she pulled herself together in a sleepy daze.

In hind sight I'm amazed that I pushed the envelope so far with Julie on the train that night. There was nothing subtle about the way I posed her. Her breasts were spilling right out of her dress under bright white lighting, with her nipple in very clear view. My wife had the look of a peeled banana, the last remnants of her black gown merely emphasizing Julie's nakedness and vulnerability to everyone who passed by her, bare inches from her velvet framed, inexcusably exposed, and luridly available body.

It was just like being a teen again, with my raging hormones overwhelming all rational thought. What made me believe I could strip my wife in public without getting busted? Yes I had some special circumstances going for me, but a number of passengers saw Julie and not one lifted a finger to help her. The conductor, the man who could have stopped it, instead gave his leering consent, permitting my wife's exposure without looking the other way. Him standing over Julie, chatting about her indecency with another women, was the fitting culmination of my wife's humiliation.

So I've got to thank you Guy, because you really made my day, but I'm sure that Julie made yours also.