1. On A Train


    Date: 6/22/2017, Categories: Cuckold, Author: PervyStoryteller, Rating: 7, Source: LushStories

    must take over. Not now though, for the husband stirs. “Conductor’s coming,” he says. The conductor is indeed on his way. The woman starts and crosses her legs, grabbing her coat and arranging it over her bare flesh. We rummage for our tickets, and when the conductor arrives he looks us over suspiciously, as if anyone seated this far forward at this time of night must self-evidently be fare-dodging. Rather grudgingly he has to concede that our tickets are in order. Then he bumbles back the way he came. I’m pleased. If he’d have slipped into the driver’s cabin for a chat it would have complicated things. The woman’s staring at me, once again as if asking what she’s expected to do. I nod at the coat and she lays it back on the seat next to her, but remains with her legs crossed. I grope her thighs with my eyes; the nylon, her flesh, licking my lips as I do so. The woman looks down and I take the opportunity to slide forward, arriving on my haunches. I slide my hands round the top knee, lifting and moving the leg to one side. There’s a flicker of shame in the woman’s eyes, but also of anticipation. I revel in the feel of the black nylon against my hands, placing my hands round the other leg, just below the knee, pulling it to one side so that she once again sits with parted legs. There’s a tiny gasp as I take the woman’s hand. I can feel her tremble slightly as my other hand moves in. I’m sure she thinks I’m going to touch the spot between her thighs, but instead I grip the top ...
    hem of her knickers, pulling the garment out and pulling the woman’s hand to the spot. She looks at me with bashful eyes, yet eyes that also give her consent. She understands what I want from her. I release my hold and resume my seat, watching the woman’s hand slide down inside her knickers. I’m not really bothered about the husband, as long as he knows not to interfere. He does nothing but look. We both look. The woman sits there, staring at me, black nylon giving way to milky white thigh, and at the top of her legs, black silk, now moving as her hand moves inside her knickers. The movements aren’t very intense, but they are hugely arousing. The woman sits there with parted legs, a hand inside her knickers, touching herself, stroking herself. She looks at me, and I return the gaze. Her eyes betray her. Though she is still flushed and slightly shameful, there’s a new urgency in her eyes. She’s coming to enjoy this. She’s gradually coming to enjoy showing off to a stranger, touching herself, stroking herself inside her silky knickers. The train dashes on, through small towns and villages and stations where it has no intention of stopping. The woman’s hand moves, her cheeks are red, her breathing visible. I grope her with my eyes; from her thighs all the way up to the spot where her breasts are held in place by the tight sweater. She shifts slightly in her seat. I have an intimation that she might have a finger inside herself as her hand moves inside the silk knickers. I could ...
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