Train Ride 13

On our way home from the beach, the train's bouncing and clattering had sent me into a stupor. It had been a hot, hot day. That heat and the blustery seaside air made keeping my eyes open just too much effort. With my head on my husband's shoulder I was just too cosy to resist closing my eyes.

When my husband first muttered softly into my ear I hadn't heard the words, sleepily I nestled deeper into him hoping he wouldn't disturb me further. His fingers dug into my knee, not hard but firm.

"He's watching you." He whispered and I recognised that he was repeating himself.

I stiffened, my head jerking upright though it felt lined with lead. My husband shushed me and elbowed me gently back against the seat.

"He's watching you. Do you want to see what he might do?"

There was an excitement in his voice that I instantly recognised. My body reacted with anticipation laced with unease. I liked to play his games, loved to arouse him, but just sometimes I wasn't convinced at his methods. Very cautiously I let my eyelids flutter, like I was drifting back to sleep and not paying attention at all. Two rows down from us sat a man. He wasn't a hunk. Forty to fifty with the hair and face of a man that age. Unremarkable. But he was watching me. Intently. There was a table blocking my view so I couldn't see what his hands were doing without leaning down and staring. But they were under the table and seemed to be moving.

My mouth went dry. It wasn't every day you caught someone potentially wanking in public. Had I been alone then I would probably have moved carriage but my husband was stroking my leg and keeping me in place. I let my eyes close fully lest the watcher think I was having some kind of fit. My husband fidgeted in his seat beside me.

I let my head lean against the edge of the window, if he wanted me to pretend to be asleep then I could do that. My body warmed at the idea of replaying this moment in bed when we got home. I may not be wholly comfortable with exhibitionism but there were great rewards to be had for indulging my husband's fancies. Thinking of later when were properly alone stirred me in a delightful way, my nipples peaked, they hardened and tightened against the soft fabric of my shirt, inside my panties I grew moist and warm.

Beside me my husband made a soft sound that said he was aware of some of these details at least. The front of my shirt twitched against my skin and I had to fight not to smile. He was checking out my breasts. Honestly if this had been in the daytime with people around then I might have slapped him for the display. Might.

He leaned against me and murmured into my ear. "I could go to the bathroom, see what he does."

I blinked my surprise. Thinking about it was one thing, allowing it to happen was something else. "What if he tries to strangle me?" I hissed.

"With a hard on like he has? He couldn't keep his hands steady to do any damage." He coughed to cover his laughter then cleared his throat. "I can stay if you don't want to do it."

He genuinely meant it. I knew that. We'd been together long enough to know when the other person wasn't entirely truthful. He could stay; we would probably still have fabulous sex discussing the man who watched me whilst wanking. We'd done similar before. My body was warm and toasty from waking; I was relaxed to almost bonelessness. I was tingling with anticipation of the sex to follow. I wasn't thinking of the man watching me, I was thinking of my husband enjoying watching the man watching me.

I checked the length of journey left and then agreed to let him go. The absence of his body from beside me was instantly cooling. Both physically and mentally. It took a couple of minutes of me breathing slowly to calm my jumping pulse.

It seemed like hours before anything happened. I was almost at the point of opening my eyes to see if the man had moved away when the front of my shirt tugged away from my skin. Just gently. It peeled away from my skin in a similar way to what my husband had done to check out my hardened nipples. Nerves made me want to lick my lips, to swallow the hard edge of doubt that stuck in my throat.

A soft male moan held me still. My shirt was pulled a little more firmly definitely exposing my unfettered breasts. Cool air pinched my nipples to a painful hardness. I concentrated on simply staying still. Forcing my breath to stay slow and regular. Caught between wanting the man to go away and wanting to be able to tell my husband that he went further still.

Something brushed against the very tip of my nipple. I gasped in shock. My shirt was dropped back into place. Hurriedly I nestled back against the seat as though dreaming. He must have believed me because I heard the soft snick-snick of a cock being stroked. My shirt was lifted away from my skin. This time a hand cupped the underside of my breast.

His hand was cool. His palm rough. The sensation so shocking that for a moment I couldn't breathe. A strange man was touching me. Again I heard the slick click of him stroking his cock.

It stopped. Everything went quiet. I thought he had gone away. Gradually my heart rate slowed to almost normal. Then my shirt snagged once more. Gently but insistently. I considered moving. Making him think I was waking. But I didn't. I thought instead of how much my husband would love my daring if I just stayed still to see what would happen. So I did

The tugging was his fingers opening the buttons on my shirt. They must have been shaking badly because it seemed to take forever. When the fabric stopped moving finally I felt cool air against the whole of my chest. Then it tugged some more and my other breast was fully exposed to him. Not just him but to the whole carriage. I tried to remember if there was CCTV in this train. I had no idea.

My leg began to ache from keeping still so long. It ached to the point of tears but I stayed where I was letting this man stare down at my now exposed tits. His rough hand slid across one then the other. The click-click of his wanking got faster. My leg started to tremble.

A thumb and finger pressed around my hardened nipple. Very slowly they clamped down tighter and tighter. Not painfully just impossible to ignore. My pants were starting to soak through and I shivered. Using the movement to ease the ache in my leg I shifted in my seat. The finger and thumb released me but I could feel the edge of his palm still brushing my skin.

Panic flared inside me. This was too much. I couldn't pretend to be sleeping with this man tugging so definitely at my body. And my body was responding. As much as I told myself it was the idea of being touched by a stranger, that this was to turn on my husband and nothing more, there was no denying that I was responding to this. My body was enjoying being stroked and pinched by this stranger. That was a shocking thought. I'd enjoyed discussing the scenario with my partner before, we'd had a lot of very good sex after such a conversation but that had been imagined and this was real.

It was maybe not an unremarkable discovery to make as a stranger wanked over my naked breasts in an empty train carriage but it was fairly surprising to me. As he stood stock still, probably waiting to discern if I was in danger of waking, I shifted in my seat. Hopefully I was emulating a sleeping woman fidgeting, I slid my foot outwards praying that I wouldn't bump against him whilst doing so.

I was hot and achy with need. I sort of wanted my husband to come back and put an end to this.

I ended up with my knees apart and could almost have sighed with pleasure that the pain in my leg finally ceased. The man must have taken encouragement from that. Far from scaring him away my restlessness seemed to have inflamed him. I so wanted to open my eyes. There was no way of knowing what he was doing.

That question was answered quickly. Something tickled against my leg. I felt the brush of his clothes against my bare knee. Tensing for anything now I waited, trying hard not to hold my breath and give myself away. The tickling sensation grew stronger. That was when I understood that he was lifting my skirt.

Holy shit. He was going to try and fuck me in my sleep!

Air caressed my thighs. I considered sitting upright and screaming. It was highly likely that he'd run away. The knowledge that if was to do that then my husband would probably come running and feign the outrage to chase him off. Thinking of him made me suddenly worry that I might have gone too far for his imagined fantasy. What if he got pissed off that I'd let the man touch me like this? I considered the thought and dismissed it. Verbally his fantasies were far more liberal. But that was when they were fantasies. This was real.

It didn't take much thought to realise that my husband was likely to cum in his pants at the thought of this. He loved a good stranger fantasy.

With my marriage in tact, mentally at least, I decided to stay still. It wasn't as easy as it should have been. My wet pussy was tingling with arousal and I wanted to squirm against the rough fabric of the seat.

A sound jerked me alert once more. I tried to think what it might be. I heard the shudder of the man's breath above my head. My skirt settled high above my hips. Again. Click whir. It was the recorded sound of a camera. He was taking pictures of me on his phone. Cheeky bastard.

His breath shuddered more loudly. The click-click of his cock began to speed up seriously. There was a tug at the edge of my panties and I almost groaned. I was really going to fuck this up if I came on his hand. My mind was wondering if he'd done this before. Surely to be this confident he must have had practice. Had those other women enjoyed his secret touch? Had they gone home to fuck their husbands with renewed vigour?

I'd worried that he would stroke me to orgasm. I needn't. His finger was thick and rough but it dipped between my moist lips so gently that I almost wouldn't have known it was there. Very carefully he manoeuvred his way inside my body without stroking the sensitive walls. I was almost disappointed. My body aching painfully with the need fuck now.

His breathing was a constant shiver above my head now. I could feel the warmth of his body across my skin. My breasts exposed to his gaze, the motion of the train making them jiggle erratically. His finger stirred around my pussy twice and then withdrew. I was frustratingly relieved. I heard him take a deep sniff and give a low groan at the scent. Then he cupped my right breast lightly, weighing it almost. As his fingers slid away I felt a trail of wetness left behind. He'd wiped my own wetness on me.

Before I could process this information something nudged my left breast. It felt like he'd poked me. Well he had but not with his finger. I couldn't help it I held my breath. He was wanking his cock against my tit. The mushroomed tip of his cock rubbing against my tight nipple. His breathing stopped but the insistent nudging didn't. Moisture grew in that spot as his pre-cum greased my skin. I could imagine the fine tether of viscous fluid between my nipple and his cock. Shit, he was going to cum on my tits.

The man hissed. It was a secretly triumphant sound. Warmth spread from my nipple out wards. Oh my god, he'd just cum over me. My husband was never going to believe this. Again there was a click whir of his phone taking a picture. I hoped it wouldn't show the blush on my cheeks.

The tannoy buzzed and crackled into life announcing our arrival at the next station. The noise alone made me jump. My eyes snapped open and I was alone. From deeper in the carriage I heard the slam of the door and I sighed my relief.

Looking down at my body I was a mess. My shirt buttons open to the last two, my breasts spilling out from the fabric. A pool of colourless liquid covered one breast and soaked away into the edges of my shirt, my skirt flipped up across my stomach to show the askew line of my underwear.

The train shuddered and squeaked. Slowing for the station. I caught the two edges of my shirt together holding them away from my skin so as not to get it any wetter than it was. As the train stopped at the platform I wished with all my heart that nobody would get onto my carriage.

Still trying to process what had happened I glanced about for my husband. The carriage door opened and then banged shut. A newcomer nodded to me before sitting down next to the door. Another door opened and finally my husband appeared. He was bright eyed but trying to form a sheepish expression as he approached. His eyes darted from the shirt clutched in my fist and my eyes and then back again.

"Well?" He asked excitedly.

I poked my finger into his chest as he sat down next to me. "He took my picture," I hissed at him.

He licked his lip and tried to choose the appropriate expression. It was no good I knew he was excited. I shook my head at him, feigning impatience but already smiling. As the train started up I glanced outside to see if my mystery man was still watching. There was nobody on the platform as the train pulled away. Only when we the windows were dark once more and only the night peeked into the carriage window did I release my grip on my shirt. I leaned back against my seat and peeled open the shirt to display the drying cum and my naked breasts.

My husband coughed, his eyes popping open wider than ever before. "Pictures?" He pointed at my breasts.

Rolling my eyes I pulled my skirt up to the point where the stranger had left it. Using my finger to indicate the whole of me I repeated myself. "Pictures."

I moved to pull my clothes back together but my husband snatched my wrist. I looked at him in surprise and he grinned back. Digging in his pocket he pulled out his own phone with a grin he began snapping pictures of my dishevelled state until the tannoy announced our stop.

We did recant the story when we got home. We did fuck like sex starved little bunnies that night and most of the next day. He still has those photos on his phone and often talks about wanking to them just like our train pervert. Personally I never quite decided if the train pervert was the stranger or me.