Motorbike Modelling

I am wearing no knickers and a blue miniskirt that displays my slender, tanned legs. I sit on the motorbike and feel the vibration of the engine run through me. The photographer tells me to hold still while she takes the pictures. It's hard not to wriggle.

She runs off a few shots and stops. I puff out my cheeks and lean back to take the pressure off. My nipples are hard and straining at my tight, white t-shirt.

She motions for the other model to step into the scene. Her name is Kacey. She is wearing denim hotpants and a black leather jacket with no t-shirt or bra. It is fastened by the zip only at the bottom to reveal plenty of cleavage.

The photographer is not happy with her look and adjustments are being to her make-up and hair, meanwhile the motorbike engine is still throbbing between my legs. Why does the engine have to be on? I shift my position slightly to try and escape from the relentless, rhythmic motion and I feel the leather seat is slick beneath me. This could get embarrassing when I get off. I'm going to get off soon at this rate, I think to myself, in more ways than one.

I realise they are calling my name. My attention must have drifted off. With the throbbing between my legs it's hard to focus on what's happening. The photographer asks me to lean forwards. Oh God, it's much more intense when I lean forward. The other girl slides on to the seat right behind me and puts her arms around my waste. I can feel her thighs pressing up against the back of mine.

Look at the camera, the photographer says. Look sexy, she says. I am basically panting. Now look at Kacey. I turn my neck and our faces, our lips, are a centimetre apart. I close my eyes. This is getting out of hand.

Look at each other please, says the photographer. I look into Kacey's chocolate brown eyes. They seem to understand. 'Honey, you've been sitting on this thing too long!' she says.

I laugh a little and nod and Kacey drops her hand casually on to my thigh and the sensation of her touch, of her fingers just resting on my skin, is like an electric shock. She knows what's happening inside my body and she is encouraging it, welcoming it.

The photographer is speaking again. OK girls, make like you are about to kiss, but stay just apart. That's it, don't touch lips, just hold it there, don't move, that's it.

I want to kiss this Kacey that I have never met before today. I can feel her breath on my lips. I want to plunge my tongue into her wet, red-lipped mouth. I am breathing heavily, trying to control myself, to remain motionless. Unseen by the camera's lens Kacey's hand is drifting up my thigh, working itself under the hem of my skirt. I am on the cusp. I am a time-bomb seconds from zero. All I have to do is imagine where that hand is going and what it will do when it is there and that is enough. I grip the growling bike between my knees, I arch my back, I screw my eyes tight shut and I climax in Kacey's embrace. She is holding me tight as I shudder, the hand under my skirt grips my thigh, digging in nails. It is exquisite.

Ok girls, that's it, I've got what I need, says the photographer and she leans over and turns off the engine.

The photographer is packing away her stuff with her back to us. It seems she did not notice what seemed so transparently obvious to Kacey. I slip gingerly off the bike. There is no hiding the wet slick that tells the whole story. Kacey giggles as she reaches for her bag, pulls out a wipe and cleans the seat as best she can.

'Wow,' she says. 'I'll say,' I agree. Although I don't know what to say. I tuck my hair behind my ear, which I do when I'm nervous or embarrassed. My legs are weak.

Kacey and I leave together. We change back into the clothes we arrived in in a little room adjacent to the studio. Now Kacey is in a short summery dress with a jacket and I am in tight jeans and a top. We have barely spoken since the photo-shoot finished but there is a bond between us now. I think we will be friends.

Kacey suggests we go shopping and we head to the tube station from the studio. We sit next to each other on the tube chatting simply about the photo-shoot and she is rummaging about in her bag. She pulls out a little case and inside is a piece of pink plastic about the size of a matchbox.

She presses a button on it and then pushes it into my palm where it buzzes fiercely. I laugh with shock at this brazen move. I look around to see if anyone else in the carriage has seen what I'm holding but no-one has flinched. She takes it back and says, you don't think you're the only one allowed to orgasm today do you?

She undoes a button of her dress, slips her hand inside and wedges the device in her panties. Then she stands up and rests her back against the silver pole in the aisle of the train.

I look again at the other people in the carriage. There are seven of them but none of them are watching Kacey, even though she is beautiful and her dress is short. They remain staring dead-eyed at books or through the window and out into the whistling blackness.

Kacey is looking directly at me. She is shifting her hips from side to side, a slow sway. She spreads her legs a little and the undone button reveals a dangerous amount of thigh. I can nearly see her knickers, I think.

She closes her eyes a little, she bites her lip. Her right hand is holding the bar above her head, raising her breasts, which have begun to rise and fall with her deepening breathing.

Her left hand has moved up to her neck and then traces a fingertip over her lips. Then it descends slowly, offering the faintest of brushes across her boobs. It moves to her waist and hovers. I can see she wants to touch her own pussy, but she doesn't dare be so brazen in public. Instead she hooks a finger inside her dress and slowly pulls the fabric to the side so I can see her knickers and the tell-tale contours of the vibrator.

I am drinking this vision in. I am lost in this performance and I do not think about the others in the carriage until she says, 'Oh, I want to cum so bad.'

It's too loud, too obvious I think. I look again at the rest of the carriage and this time one man, in his fifties, wearing a blue anorak, is looking. He is several seats away, not the nearest to us though. He has an expression of stunned intensity on his face as he watches Kacey's hypnotic movements. I can't blame him, my face must display exactly the same expression.

I try to indicate that someone is watching to Kacey but her eyes are closed. She is close. Her hand moves down to grab her inner thigh. She is fighting the urge to press that buzzing toy hard into her clit. She squirms, lifting a knee, twisting her body. 'Oh God I'm so close.' She breathes it more than says it. At last she relents to her powerful instincts. She drops onto her haunches and spreads her legs. All pretence at coyness has gone as her hand dives inside her knickers. I can see her slippery fingers work around the toy, pushing it grabbing it.

She grits her teeth and finally with one hard convulsion she releases a flooding climax.

Exhausted, and panting she pulls her hand out of knickers and brings the toy with it. She turns it off with a touch of a button and shows it to me. It is dripping and so are her fingers.

I look at the other passengers. A young couple is giggling to each other and looking over. An older lady is muttering disapproval and the man in his fifties looks flushed, and almost as spent as Kacey.

The tube pulls in to a station and we get off in case anyone is planning to make a complaint. As we wait for the next train Kacey tells me, 'it's your turn.'

The platform is filling up, it's close to rush hour now. She tries to reach inside my jeans with the toy but I bat her hand away, 'No way!'

'Come on,' she says. 'You don't have to make such a show of it as I did. Didn't you enjoy watching me? I know you did, and it's only fair I should get the chance to enjoy watching you.' It's true that I did enjoy watching Kacey. My own knickers are drenched and I am hot enough and crazy enough to try something I would normally run a mile from.

'OK I'll do it.'

'That's my girl!' I reach out for the toy but this time she pushes my hand away. 'I know just where to put it,' she says. 'Don't worry I'll be discrete.'

We turn together and face the wall as much as possible, but it is still a weird scene. She struggles to get her hand inside my jeans because they're so tight and orders me to undo the top button.

I do and she shoves her hand down my jeans, and inside my knickers. 'You are SO wet,' she says. 'I think you might be wetter than me and I've got cum rolling down my thighs!'

I don't know if she is joking. I can't see. But judging from my own sopping state it is perfectly possible.

I can feel the buzz of toy against my skin now as she manoeuvres it skillfully into position. It's right up against my clit. I give a sharp intake of breath as it goes to work. 'Oh... it's powerful,' I say.

The train pulls up behind us and Kacey whips her hand away and pulls me onto it, tottering slightly on unsteady legs. I realise to my horror that the train is almost full. Standing room only, and not much of that. Kacey pulls me into a spot in the aisle with seats either side. There is a little knot of businessmen in suits who eye us as we walk in. Kacey gives them a wink but I am feeling a little stunned about my situation and nervously tuck my hair behind my ear.

I feel the toy working away, unseen and unheard. I don't want to make a scene like Kacey did, especially not now the carriage is rammed. The tube pulls away and we all sway with the momentum, bumping into each other, body against body.

Kacey and I are facing each other and using the metal pole between us for support. She has one hand on my backside and she pulls me towards the pole. 'Grind against it,' she says. 'It feels great.'

'When we get back to mine I am going to kiss you,' she whispers. 'I am going to touch you, I am going to fuck you until you scream for mercy.'

I don't move. I dare not. If I move I will collapse, I am sure of it. I stay still. Stock still but still the pressure is building.

'I makes me wet just thinking about what's happening inside your panties,' she says. A student with a backpack bumps into me with the jolt of the train. The businessmen are engrossed in animated conversation. City life continues around me. People travelling home from work. Staring blankly, plugged into to their i-pods and headphones. They are oblivious of the chaotic turmoil that is rising up inside the girls who jolts and jostles alongside them.

Kacey and I are wedged together as more people crowd on to the carriage. I cling to my pole for support. Kacey makes a surreptitious movement with her hand between her legs and then closes her eyes. I gasp as I feel her silken fingers dart down the front of my jeans, past my panties and into my slit. A second later her fingers are in front of my face. 'Here, try one of these,' she says it loudly as if she was offering me a sweet and then she pushes two fingers inside my mouth. They taste powerfully of cum.

All the time the train thunders on, powering rhythmically through the tunnels. Nothing can stop it and nothing can stopp me now either.

I am fighting against the feeling building up inside me but it is beginning to overpower me. It will win. I don't know if I will be able to control my body when I come. The thought scares me a little but excites me also.

The train stops again and a few people get off and Kacey takes the opportunity to move behind me. More people get on and we are wedged again. Hot bodies press together.

Form behind me Kacey now takes control of the situation. 'The next stop is ours,' she says and snakes an arm around my side, squeezing it between the bodies of those beside us. She moves her hand down to my crotch and cups my pussy.

I try to work out if the people in the seats can see but carriage is a forest of bodies and limbs. Ironically the number of people around us mean Kacey's action is unobserved.

Kacey begins to massage. She uses the ball of her thumb to rub against the toy through my jeans. I can't help let out a little squeal. I stifle it but people look at me before turning away. Kacey redoubles her efforts with her hand and then runs her lips from my ear lobe down my neck.

Her other hand is massaging one of my breasts. I am the only one holding on to the pole for support as the train jolts and rumbles to its inevitable destination.

Oh God, I can't take much more of this. I am so close to coming when, almost unbelievably, she thrusts her hand inside my jeans and my soaking knickers. I let out a yelp as her palm presses heavily on the toy driving it onto my clit while her fingers curl deliciously inside my pussy. The sensation is maddening and explosive and instanteous and if I wasn't pressed between Kacey and the supporting pole I would be doubled over, driving my backside against Kacey's groin.

The movement of her hand is constricted by the jeans, even with the top button still undone but she does not let go. There's no hiding it now. My voice is hoarse but clearly audible 'Oh, my God!' I can't control it anymore. I grip so tightly to the pole my knuckles turn white, my face contorts as if in agony and my legs shiver uncontrollably as an orgasm fires through me.

Kacey pulls her soaking fingers out of my pants as the train stops again. She helps me through the crowd. The knot of businessmen have stopped their conversation are grinning at us as we stumble out of the train and break for her place.