Slow Train

It was a rural train, from the regional centre through the surrounding country, a line that would be closed in the cuts of the late 'fifties. It was still steam hauled, and the rolling stock was outdated and near antique, the carriages having no corridor or toilet facilities.

He got into the compartment just before the train started its journey. The first class stock of that era had four seats on either side, with three fold down armrests that could be raised to allow an extra passenger on each banquette if the train was crowded. There was one other occupant, a young woman sitting at the other end of the seat on the same side as him, back to the engine - the preferred position as it reduced the risk of smuts in the face if the window was opened. As was to be expected, he gave her a quick glance, which she returned, and he acknowledged her presence with the briefest of nods, to which the ghost of a smile past across her face. The exchanged glances were enough for each to take in a full impression of the other, helped by the fact that they were both stereotypes of the English middle class of that era.

She was in her mid twenties, hair softly waved and framing a pleasant, unexceptionable face that was devoid of any overt makeup. She wore a plain short jacket and matching pleated skirt that ended just below her knees. Under the jacket was a white blouse, high buttoned to the neck, and showing just a hint of a pleasant bust below. The ensemble was completed by mid brown nylons and sensible shoes with low heels, placed closely together on the floor.. One would have placed her as a repressed, self conscious, middle England young woman, and, as she wore no ring, probably a virgin - which, in fact, was the case.

He was the male equivalent. Late twenties, dark hair slicked down with Brylcreem in the manner of the time, a nice looking, clean shaven face, dark business suit with white shirt and plain tie. He would have been wearing a hat, a trilby of course, had it not been blown off his head in a sudden gust of wind as he crossed the river bridge. He, also, was a product of his time, minor public school, gauche and ill at ease with women of his own - or any - age, and also a virgin.

As this was in the early post war years, many people of their age would have served in the armed forces during the war, and have been exposed to a communal adult life that would have broadened their knowledge of the world, especially of the opposite sex, but he was a research scientist doing essential war work and she had had health problems that had debarred her from serving, and she had passed the latter stages of the conflict as an infants' teacher. Thus, their ignorance of life was well preserved, and the glances that they exchanged should have been the sum total of their intimacy.

But the norm did not apply in this case. For a reason that neither of them would ever be able to explain, that brief glance lit a fuse under unsuspected emotions, and started a slow burn. They both looked back at each other, and could not look away, as though their eyes were pulled by a powerful magnetic field, and they both realised that something life changing was going to happen.

He made the first move. He slowly raised the armrest next to his place.

She gazed at him for what seemed like an age, then raised that beside her.

He moved about a foot along the seat towards her.

Another long pause, and she did the same towards him.

He moved again, as far as the centre armrest.

Again the pause, then she moved.

They were now side by side, separated only by the armrest, and he caught the soft fragrance of a flowery perfume, which he recognised as that used by a favourite aunt.

Should he raise the armrest? No, it had to be she who made what would be the definitive move. Their eyes were still fixed on each other, unblinking. Then he felt the touch at his side as she very slowly began to raise the barrier. Half way up, she stopped, then, after a long pause, finished the movement.

All he had to guide him was some superficial knowledge gained from one or two racy books that had circulated his office, and a book about sex that he had found hidden under his father's clothes when he had been clearing up after his death. That, and instinct.

He leaned across and put his hand on her thigh, feeling the warmth and firmness. His eyes were still on hers, and she showed no sign of dissent, so he slid sown over her knees till he was below the hem of her skirt, and was resting on the nylon-clad calf. Again, no adverse reaction, so he moved slowly upwards, feeling under her skirt and covering the rounded knee, then further on to her lower thigh. Now both pairs of eyes were looking down, watching the skirt hem being pushed up by the wrist that was below it.

Then the train engine whistled, and began to slow as it arrived at a station. He withdrew his hand, she smoothed her skirt down, and they sat, side by side, staring at the advertisement for a seaside resort above the opposite seat. The station was that of a small village, and no one left or joined the train. Soon the guard waved his flag and, with a jerk and the emission of a cloud of smoke, the elderly engine began to move.

She moved her hands, that had been resting in her lap, bent forward to take the hem of her skirt, and drew it up, till it was half way up her thighs, exposing her nylon clad knees. She also moved her feet, just a little, so her legs were no longer pressed firmly together. He put his hand on her thigh, resting lightly, feeling the slippery surface of the stocking material, then inched his way upward. Again, both pairs of eyes were watching his hand, and, as he moved he was pushing the skirt higher, exposing more leg. At last he reached the top of the stocking, and felt the change from the rather reinforced feel of the shiny nylon to the live softness of her naked skin. He pushed his fingers over the top and slid between the warm legs to the inside of her thigh, then slowly upward, watching her legs part to allow him access. All at once his hand felt warm and slightly damp silky material as he touched her underwear. He was unsure what to do, so he pushed up a little and felt the mysterious folds of her silk covered vulva. He moved his fingers slightly and could feel the grooving of her sex, and heard her catch her breath slightly.

Was this what she wanted? Was she just submitting to his maleness, or was this something that she wanted to happen? He looked up into her eyes, with a questioning expression, and she gave the slightest of nods, then looked down again into her lap. He wanted to talk to her, ask her what to do, anything, but he knew that a word would break the bizarre spell that was binding them together. He began to explore with his fingers, and found out that, by moving across a little onto her upper thigh, he could then slide his fingers into the wide leg of the French knickers that she was wearing, where he encountered a patch of pubic hair. Pushing through the hair and downwards, he felt the plump curve of her outer lip, and delved into the warm wetness beyond. As he moved he felt the divide of her inner lips and his finger parted and entered between them

She had been becoming more and more aroused ever since they first locked eyes, and she was horrified as she felt her juices start to flow. Although she touched herself when she was bathing, she had never masturbated, and this was the first time in her life that she had become wet to this extent. Not realising just how normal this was, she wanted to stop him in her shame, while desperately wanting him to carry on. She was about to act when his fingers parted her inner lips and slid into the wet folds, and she could not speak. When he showed no signs of revulsion at what he found, she held her breath, waiting to see what he would do.

What he did was to slide up and down the groove till, by pure chance his finger touched her clitoris, and her body tensed. He immediately drew back, thinking he had hurt her, but felt her hand on his, pressing it back down again. The sex manual that he had inherited mentioned the clitoris in passing, just suggesting that some women quite enjoyed being touched there, so he realised that this was what he had found. As he touched it gently he felt it swelling into a little bud, and he caressed it, sensing that she more than "quite" enjoyed being touched there! After a bit he started to explore again, and, remembering the drawings in the sex manual, he slipped down the moist ravine till he felt a depression, and, as he pushed gently, his finger parted the entry to her vagina and slid inside. He found he was in a hot slippery canal, and he slid as far as he could, then moved the tip of his finger around, feeling the complicated folds of her inner self.

Then the train began to slow again, and again he removed his hand and she pushed down her skirt and sat demurely, feet close together, terrified that someone would get into the carriage. Surely it would be obvious to anyone that she was permitting this stranger to enter her most intimate parts. Happily, no one did get in, and, as soon as the train began to move, she pulled her skirt up high.

He badly wanted to look at the secret parts that he had been probing, so he dropped onto his knees in front of her. He was going to pull her knickers to one side, but she did it for him, parting her legs wide and exposing her vulva, the lips swollen, and parted enough for her pink pussy lips to be visible. She knew she should have been mortified for anyone to look at her in that way, but instead she wanted him to know all of her, and she put her fingers either side of the lips and spread them, so that the entry into her vagina was visible, a darker red crevice. As he leaned forward to look he became aware of a warm, rich smell, the smell of her arousal, and as he breathed it in he realised that his penis was hardening, that this was no longer a strangely detached exploration under a woman's skirt, but that he had an intense desire for this woman. Without any conscious thought he leaned forward till his lips met her vulva, tasting the juice that flowed from her, and his tongue licked in the crevice, finding her clitoris and evoking the smallest of screams from her. He licked down the slit, till he could push it into her vagina, and, as he did so her hand on the back of his head pushed his face hard into her slit, his nose up against her clitoris and nearly smothering him. Then he knew that something more was needed.

He drew back from her, and stood up, close to her so that she was looking straight at his trouser fly. She saw that there was a bulge there, but, as she would never have dreamed of staring at a man in this area, she wasn't sure whether this was normal or not. He just stood there, and she reached out to undo the waist fastening of his trousers, then slowly undid the buttons on his fly. As her fingers were touching the material above where his penis was straining to be released, he had to fight to make sure it did not jerk under her touch. As she undid the bottom button, the trousers dropped to his ankles.

The only penis that she had ever seen was that of her cousin, who was about eighteen months old, when he was being bathed, so the sight that met her eyes was more than surprising. Obviously she realised that his would be significantly bigger, but she hadn't anticipated just how big it would be, nor that it would practically leap out at her. He was wearing the normal underpants of the time, white with quite long legs and with a simple access slot to allow him to withdraw his penis to piss, which would normally contain him when not required. However, his substantial erection had found its way out and stood out proudly in all its glory. She peered at this edifice with a mixture of fear and fascination, then timidly reached out to touch it with her finger tips, feeling the smooth surface of the shaft, then sliding her fingers round to hold him, feeling the heat and the pulse of his blood. As she moved her hand, she involuntarily pushed the foreskin back a little, and the tip of his glans appeared. She looked up at him in concern, should this happen? As he smiled down at her, she realised that she was doing the right thing, and she pushed it further back till she had fully exposed the shiny purple helmet, and the slit of his urethra gaped open. She watched, fascinated as a bead of liquid appeared in the slot. Was he going to urinate on her? Then she realised that this wasn't urine, but a creamy liquid that she guessed was something to do with his sexual reaction, and, without realising what she was doing, she leaned forward and lifted the drop off onto her tongue, enjoying the taste of the slightly salty liquid.

The touch was like an electric shock to him, and he realised that if she carried on with this action he would spray her face with his juice. He gently took her hand away, then dropped to his knees between her legs. He pushed his hands up her thighs under her skirt and cupped her buttocks, and drew her forward to the edge of the seat, so his erect penis was close to her sex. She dropped her hand and drew the knicker gusset to one side. Her legs were spread wide, and her outer lips were parted exposing her pussy lips, red with engorgement from her arousal. He pushed forward, and, as the tip of his penis touched her lips she held him and guided him to the entry to her vagina, and they both watched as his rampant member began to slide into her waiting passage.

Although she was a virgin, a combination of school gymnastics and horse and bicycle riding had stretched her hymen to the point of near disappearance. As he slid slowly into the tight virginal passage, he felt a slight resistance, but with a little more pressure he destroyed what was left of her maidenhead. She had been afraid that this huge object would just be too big to enter her tiny channel, and had consoled herself with the thought that this was probably what all men were like, and that millions of women accepted them into their bodies every day, so it wasn't likely to split her in two. Nevertheless, she was very fearful and couldn't imagine that it would be a pleasant sensation, though the feel of his finger inside her had been most arousing. He pushed further into her, amazed at how tight the channel was, and was afraid that he was hurting her, but, as she did not protest, he continued up the well lubricated passage until their pubis met and he could go no further.

He stayed still when they were fully engaged, and they both looked up and into each other's eyes. Her face was looking a bit tense, but as she got used to the feel of being filled with his throbbing penis the fear receded and she smiled at him. He took this for the sign of pleasure that it was, and slowly pulled back, as far as he dared without pulling out completely, and felt the cool air on his shaft, a contrast from the heat of her body. Then he pushed back in, then out again. They were both losing their fear, hers of being hurt, his of hurting her, and they could concentrate on the exquisite sensation of a man and a woman coming together in the mating act. He moved faster, and as he did so he felt her making tiny movements of her hips in response, and, to his surprise - and hers - he felt her vagina clutching him, so gently that he wasn't even sure it was happening. Now he began to experience for the first time the approach of orgasm. He had never masturbated, so wasn't sure what would happen, apart from the obvious fact of ejaculation - it was the process that was new. But animal instinct took over, and told him what to do. She was also going through a totally new set of physical and mental reactions, and was moaning quietly at the heavenly feel of her body being caressed from inside by this huge intruder. The sound of her moans was the final incitement to him, and he took a firm hold on her buttocks and began driving in and out fast and hard, until he felt the rush of fluid up his shaft, and he held her firmly as his cock jerked over and over as the sperm laden fluid was pumped high up into her vagina. His head dropped onto her shoulder, and they stayed locked together for several minutes.

Suddenly he realised that the train was slowing down, and he hastily withdrew his wet limp penis, and stood up to pull up his trousers, but she reached round to pull him to her so that she could kiss goodbye to this object that had given her her first orgasm and filled her heart with joy. She released him and he hastily tidied himself up and sat down in the corner seat. She stood, allowing her skirt to drop, then moved across to give him the gentlest of kisses on the lips. She spoke for the first time.

'Thank you. I get off here.'

'And thank you. I shall be on this train on the first Thursday of September next year.'

The train stopped, she opened the door, turned and smiled at him and was gone.

It was a year later, the day of the annual meeting of the organisation of which he was chairman. He walked on to the platform and down the length of the train. When he came to the last first-class compartment at the front of the train, he stepped on board. She sat on the same seat as before, in the corner seat, still in the same prim manner, her sensible shoes close together, but this time her skirt was a light flowery cotton affair. Around her shoulders was a cotton shawl, hiding the baby who was feeding at her breast. She smiled at him as he entered and sat in the further corner. The guard's whistle blew, and the train began to move. They looked at each other and both moved to the centre of the seat and she raised the armrest so that they were close together.

He took hold of the ends of the shawl and drew them away. The baby was suckling one breast; the other was still covered by the flap of her maternity brassiere. She unhooked the top of the flap and pulled it down to uncover the breast, and transferred the baby from one nipple to the other. Despite their mating a year ago, he had still not seen a woman's upper body naked, and he gazed on the full white flesh, stretched with its burden of milk, and showing the blue veins under the surface. Her aureoles were pale brown, and the visible dark brown nipple was standing proud from the suckling of the baby. He cautiously cupped the heavy flesh in his hand, and stroked the warm skin. When his fingers arrived at her nipple he gently squeezed it, and a dribble of milk oozed out. He bent over and licked the little flow, tasting the sweetish nourishment, and he drew the nipple into his mouth and sucked on it. Although the baby had drunk his fill, there was still enough left for him to enjoy the warm liquid, and, as he sucked, he dropped his hand to her knee and slid up under her skirt.

Again he felt the contrast of the nylon cladding and the silky soft skin of her inner thigh. She parted her legs for him and, as he moved higher, instead of the silky fabric that he was expecting his hand found naked flesh, covered only by her soft hair. His hand cupped her vulva, hot and moist, and his fingers slid easily into the slippery groove between her inner and outer lips, then parted the inner lips and smoothly slipped inside. He had not been with another woman since the last time with her, and he remembered vividly how touching her clitoris excited her. His finger found the hood over the little bud and, as he rubbed it, he could feel the growth as it pushed up out of its hiding place. As last time, his endeavours were interrupted by the slowing down of the train. He quickly removed his hand and pushed down her skirt, then drew her shawl round her shoulders, covering the naked breast but leaving the baby's head exposed with a sliver of white skin visible.

She was sitting straight with her head bowed over the baby; he was close to her, but not too close. Then, the worst happened, and a middle aged couple got into the compartment. As the man was about to shut the door, the woman noticed the suckling infant and the flash of breast, and she turned round and pushed her husband out, amid mutterings of how disgusting some people's behaviour was, the youth of today having no morals, etcetera.