With a wicked smile, she hitches up her skirt, biting her lip as she slides her panties down her thighs. She can feel the coolness of the evening air contrasting pleasantly with the heat building between her thighs. With just her open blouse offering fleeting glimpses of her soft, round, milky breasts she slides down the rough, sinewy bark of the tree behind her, her bare buttocks resting on a cushion of damp moss. She then pulls up her skirt even higher, abandoning all pretence of her ladylike demeanour as she exposes the ripeness of her vulva to his gaze; knowing the effect it will have on him. Maintaining eye-contact, she greedily wets two fingers slipping them inside her mouth, and as if obeying the urgings of her lust, reaches down with them as she begins to tease the nub of her swollen clitoris.
The man, almost no longer in conscious control of himself, stands transfixed and intoxicated at the sight of this woman - the picture of professional respectability on the train. His eyes, are drawn to the movement of her hand and the contours of her wrist as she unashamedly and boldly traces her fingers around her clit in slow, languid spirals; she will only obey the needs of her own body. In turn, he takes off his suit-jacket, almost hypnotised at the spectacle unfolding before him. He removes his belt, flinging it down with hers on the dirt, kicks off his expensive brogues and takes off his pants. His erection is smoothly outlined and moulded against the fabric of his nicely tight boxers. He begins to remove them, exposing his bare shaft inch by inch until the head catches on the waist band. He lowers them further, and in one swift motion, the entirety of his cock - proud and erect, potent yet vulnerable, the head beautifully mushroomed and glistening with lust, springs forward. The woman savours the sight eagerly and fixing her eyes on the fleshy stalk, quickens her rhythm.
In turn, he rests himself against a tree stump, only a few feet opposite her so that they face one another. Their legs are splayed instinctively wide apart, the attitude of their bodies a mirror image of the other. Goaded almost beyond endurance, the man draws his fingers tightly around his dick. His first touch is a soothing relief to his wild anticipation. He begins to rub eagerly back and forth, the foreskin gliding rhythmically over the head as he watches the woman. Open-mouthed, his face contorted with desire he glances alternately at the woman's face and the motion of her fingers which betray her need.
And in spite of all this, both of them remain strangers to one another, having never so much as exchanged a single word; having never so much as touched one another's flesh yet so overcome with lust and the random wicked momentum of their situation that neither can resist masturbating openly in front of one another; they both study one another, eyes fixing here and there on the tautening of an inner thigh, the curling of a foot or the firmness of torso, as if silently communicating a mutually agreed curiosity. Letting go of all inhibition, their fingers blur into a synchronised, aching rhythm as they pleasure themselves in the dying light. Almost too wrapped up in the sight of one another and the fulfillment of their mutual need. They both know this but it only serves to spur them on as they near the point of release.
It's quiet. Just the sounds of their stifled moans and breaths mingling with the bird-song as their fingers rub and jerk in a now frantic matching rhythm; performing something they'd only normally do in the privacy of their own bedrooms; something they had both done thinking of one another before they had the courage to signal their mutual attraction; something they are doing illicitly in the present, their mutual display feeding one another's lust. Another minute and they reach a crescendo - his cock and her cunt and clitoris, swelling to the point of no return. They can no longer hold back, their bodies about to give way to an impending surrender; both knowing they're about to give in. They both cum intensely, their bodies jerking spasmodically with the pent-up shock of their release - the guy spraying his stomach with a fountain of hot, watery cum and the woman crying out amid the silence like a vixen. Her eyes capture the look on the man's face, savouring those precious seconds of vulnerability in which he is lost to his own pleasure and she in hers; brief moments of weakness overshadowing of his strength and vigour which attracted her. Almost simultaneously she watches his cock pulse with delight, his spasms matching her own.
They both lie back, panting and sated, almost unaware of one another's presence as the spasms gradually subside, their eyes closed as they get their breath back. As the moonlight creeps across the glade, they glance at one another shyly, each now conscious of the intimacy they've just exchanged. They both gather their belongings, too spent and light-headed to even utter another word. Both dressed, their eyes meet a final time, neither having touched or spoken. They both head off in separate directions into the night, wondering what tomorrow's train journey holds...
