She led me to the platform, and luckily our train was just pulling in to the station. Being so slender and petite she was able to simply step on, but I had to shove my way into the crowded carriage and ended up forced against the wall next to her.

As the train shuddered and chugged away from the station, the unexpected movement made all of us jerk slightly and I felt her leg rub against my thigh, just for a second. At the next station, several people left the carriage but even more climbed on, pushing us all closer together. I found myself in the corner of the carriage with her in front of me and again, as the train moved off she swayed, her back pressing up against my chest for barely longer than a moment.

At the next stop, no one left but a handful more pushed their way into the train, and I had to let go of one of the bars to avoid hitting the back of someone’s head with my elbow. Trying to find somewhere to put my hand, it was all I could do to let it rest against my side moments before my friend was pushed into me by the crowd, the curve of her bum pressing against me in just the wrong – or right – place. I couldn’t see her face, but it was clear that no one could move, so we were stuck like this till the end of the line.

Once again, the train juddered and shook as it began to move, and it dawned on me what was going to happen… as she pressed further against me, rubbing against me, I could feel my cock growing in my slacks. She couldn’t miss it, it was poking right into her. Again she was pushed harder against me, and there was almost pain as the erection was restrained by the material of my trousers… and her rear.

I tried to look out of the window, hoping she wouldn’t comment. I couldn’t help it – she was beautiful and I was male, after all. A bump in the track forced her to grab one of the handrails herself, but in doing so she had to move her feet back, and now she was rubbing against my cock even more, though the train had stabilised.

Almost subconsciously, my arm moved from its place at my side, though I couldn’t say what I originally planned – I could hardly have pushed her away. As my hand brushed against her hip there was a momentary flash of panic as I suddenly feared the response of my long-time friend, but as my fingers slowly spread across the folds of her skirt and I felt her thigh beneath, I didn’t notice her react at all. Was I about to do something stupid? Did she not know what she was doing to me?

The tips of my fingers moved slowly down her leg until they reached the hem of her skirt, and I paused as we pulled into a station, only continuing after no one climbed on or left. As my fingers brushed over her bare skin, I knew she couldn’t fail to notice now. Her head tilted slightly but she otherwise did not react, and I realised that she hadn’t been pushing against me for some time. I froze, not wanting to continue but not able to pull my hands away from the skin of her bare leg.

I remained there, motionless, as the train passed through another station. Then another. She also remained unmoved, though she had still not said a word to me. As the train pulled in to the next station, we were again pushed closer by the crowd as more people tried to make their way in. Her skirt rode up slightly, and almost automatically I pulled my hand away and held it close to my side once again.

The train continued on its journey and I could not move. I was worried about her reaction when we reached the end of the line and would be able to speak properly. But as I pondered this, I felt fingers at my wrist and my hand was gently guided back to her leg. Though her head had not moved, I looked down and saw that it was her fingers that had gently encircled my hand. When she had made sure that my hand was in its prior position – and that I was not going to move it – her fingers withdrew.

What did that mean? Was this some form of tacit permission? Should I leave my hand there, or did she want more? I think I left my hand there without change for at least another station, but then I decided to take a risk and see what came of it… I ever so softly began to stroke her skin with my fingertips, my hand moving just high enough to be hidden by her skirt – thank goodness for the walls of the carriage.

There was no reaction from her, but she hadn’t swatted my hand away. I became bolder and moved my hand a little higher under her skirt, until I was stroking her thigh… and I could feel the response, a slight tensing and relaxing of the muscle in her leg… was that good, or bad? The train juddered again, and she had to spread her legs apart for balance… was it for balance? I decided I had pushed my luck enough for now, and simply kept up the slow caress of her thigh.

Another station gone, and she moved slightly, her free hand lifting up to grab the handrail to allow her to let go with the other. As she did so, the train shifted again, and a soft rub up against my still throbbing dick was my reward.

For a moment I thought that she had started rubbing her rear against me again, but then I felt something else – fingers. I wasn’t able to look down, but her arm was just barely bent back, and her hand disappeared between us. As I faced the back of her head again, I could feel my fly being slowly drawn down and two fingers start to poke their way in, pushing aside my boxers.

I must have breathed in sharply as her head tiled again and her hand froze, but after a few moments of no response, she continued in pulling my engorged member from its coverings and out into the space between us.

Her hand was soft, the touch of her fingertips feather-light as they traced patterns along my shaft, gently tugging my foreskin until it retracted, allowing her to brush her thumb back and forth across the tip of the oh so sensitive glans, in that sweet sensation of almost painful pleasure.

I kept my mouth shut, but my fingers began to knead her leg in response, and I felt her push herself against my hand. Letting my arm move further, my fingertips travelled across to her inner thigh, stroking her there as my hand moved closer between her legs, just slightly feeling the outer edge of her panties.

My fingertips brushed across the fabric and she shivered slightly; I could feel the slightest hint of dampness as she stopped pressing back against my body to now pushed herself into my palm.

Allowing myself a moment to enjoy the sensation, I gently slid my fingers beneath the fabric, discovering the slight downy fur that told me she usually shaved but had not done so recently. Feeling the hair become ever so slightly slick with juice, I helped spread it as my fingers rubbed along the outside of her lips, pressing lightly against them as I did so. In response, her fingers tightened against my cock and began to move rhythmically, slowly, in time to my own ministrations.

The train pulled into another station but I didn’t notice if anyone came or went, though I did notice when she removed her fingers from my cock… was she having second thoughts? And then my hand, still pressing against her pussy, was free from material. She shifted to one side and suddenly her hand was at my pocket, something being shoved deep within it, and then her fingers returned to grasp my manhood, covering themselves in precum and again rubbing my shaft in slow, rhythmic motions.

My mind was spinning but I could feel her begin to open, and I allowed a finger to just slightly slip inside her each time I reached the nadir of my hand’s path. As I did so, I let my palm press down on her clit, and each time I was rewarded with a shudder that ran through her petite frame, and a brief tightening of her hand around my cock.

We continued like this for several stations, keeping each other from reaching too far above the plateau, until she again released me from her grip and pushed herself backwards against me once more, rubbing her entire body against mine once, twice and a third time. I moved my hand from between her legs and as I did so, she carefully lifted a tiny section of the back of her skirt.

She stood up on her toes and pushed back against me, her hand reaching back again for my cock and slowly, so slowly I almost wanted to do it for her, she guided me until I felt her wetness envelop me, her skirt dropping back down around us as we pulled into yet another station.

I don’t think I moved for the entire stop at the station, and neither did she. Then, as the train juddered into life, the vibration and her own motions to keep stable set us both off. My hand again reached under her skirt, this time to let my fingers brush through the hair there and graze her clit, while she now gripped the rails with both hands, apparently not trusting herself to be stable.

As we began I tried to thrust myself, but the train’s movement and my own lack of stability made that difficult… so I leaned back against the wall behind me and let her push down on me at her pace, sliding back and forth slowly at first, gradually speeding up as she realised I was braced.

The sensations continued to build as she pushed herself further and further over me, as I felt myself slide deeper and deeper inside her with each press of her back against my chest. My fingers began to rub hard at her clit instead of simply touching around it, and this seemed to be what she wanted. I was rewarded with violent thrusts against me with each pinch of her clit, and I was close enough to hear her ragged breath as she tried to maintain the air of normality.

I don’t know how long we moved like this, the waves of pleasure rising and crashing down more times than I can count, but as I heard the announcement that the next station would be the end of the line – and our stop – my fingers squeezed her clit once more and I felt her entire body spasm hard. As her muscles contracted around me it was enough to push me over the edge as well, and I could feel myself burst deep inside her, filling her with my liquid hot love.

As the train began to slow, I pulled my hand away from her clit in order to steady her as I leaned more heavily against the wall of the carriage behind me. She gradually lifted herself off of me, and I pulled out a tissue to wipe myself as surreptitiously as I could before once again restraining my member as it slowly became dormant.

I could tell that she was doing what she could to clean herself as well, and the train came to a stop just as she finished. The crowds evacuated the train seemingly instantly, as they are wont to do at the end of the line, leaving only her and myself in the carriage.

There was silence, and she did not move, standing there less than an inch in front of me. For a moment I was concerned, she still had not turned to look at me. But then, as if the journey had been perfectly normal and everything was as it had been before, she said in the accent that had always made me tingle;

“Come on, we don’t want the gardens to close before we get there.”

Still facing away, she took me by the hand and pulled me into the light.

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