Author's Note: Nothing in this story should be taken as encouraging or condoning the sort of activities described therein. It is a story, for the enjoyment of those who enjoy reading about such things

First Published on this site: 13 June 2016

The Girl on the Train
by Lewis

Feedback welcome, to mike.lewisisme@yandex.com

Story Code: MF

Monday morning, work beckons.

Out of bed when the alarm goes off, usual bathroom essentials. Sh**, shower and shave. Dressed in office 'uniform' of suit and tie. Why in the twenty-first century do we still do this? Surely it is not an essential part of working that a man has to be packed into boring, uncomfortable clothes just so that he looks 'presentable' in the office. Women don't do this. Ever since I can remember and that is a lot longer ago than I care to think, women have always dressed for themselves or for the person they are trying to attract. This results in colourful, pretty, alluring outfits whatever job they are working at. From office girls to shop assistants they all dance around the world like flowers or butterflies, attracting every man who has an active libido and whose cock is still in working order. Even nurses, police women and flight attendants manage to have uniforms which are actually a turn on. Or maybe it's just me being attracted to girls of all sizes, ages and appearance. Well actually all sizes and ages is not strictly true but even the least attractive girl can be desirable in the right circumstances.

Not taking the car to the office today. The traffic in this part of Penstone is so bad during rush hour that it is no fun at all and as for the problems in the city, well best not think about it. Lock up the house and walk to the station passing lots of groups of little schoolgirls going in the opposite direction heading for their day of books and lessons. Boredom in class interspersed with brief moments when they can get together in their little girly groups and chat and giggle and laugh about the boys they are going out with or want to go out with. Maybe the conversation turns to those boys who treated them so badly that they had to be dumped. I am sure it turns frequently to the taboo subject of sex, but what would I know I'm just a dumb guy. I do know the boys in my school spent more than a few hours a day talking about nothing so much as getting into a girls knickers.

I love walking to the station. I love watching the little teens and preteens in their cute school uniforms, white blouses, short 'ish skirts. As short as they can get away with usually, even if it means leaving home in a knee length skirt to keep Mum happy and then rolling it up at the waist on the way to school until the hem stops somewhere mid thigh. White thigh, skinny thigh, beautiful thigh. Knees and ankles in frilly white socks and black flat shiny shoes. Such skinny pretty legs which inevitably disappear under the pleated skirts heading for a place which in times to come will give them and whoever is lucky enough to visit it such ecstasy. I know I can't see it but in my mind's eye it is as clear as if I could. That little cleft in the flesh with those pretty puffy lips, those soft puffy lips surrounding it is an oasis from which I would love to drink my fill. An oasis clad in clean pure white or pretty pink cotton or just possibly for the girls who want to flout the school rules maybe silk and lace. Sometimes soft enough for their sweet camel toe to outline itself against the material and sometimes again in the case of the older more adventurous schoolgirls semi transparent so that any gust of wind would reveal their pussy lips clearly to the world or any passing lascivious male who might be lucky enough to be looking in her direction at the right moment.

Again, just walking to the station and despite having jacked off twice yesterday my cock is starting to get hard again. I know I should control it. I know I shouldn't be turned on by these little beauties with all their lives still ahead of them, good and bad, but all unknown. Unfortunately I have never been able to ignore looking at and enjoying the attractions of pre and post pubescent girls or for that matter anyone of the female persuasion.

Three little girls, probably not teenagers yet, approach me giggling. Why are girls always so happy? Most boys of their age are sullen, permanently frowning. I take another look at them and one of them looks so familiar, blonde hair, very slim, thin legs. Hardly any breast development yet, I wondered whether she wore a bra or not. Girls tend to get into a training bra a long time before the breast tissue needs supporting. It may be vanity or just wanting to fit in with the other girls who are developing more quickly.

The little group passed me. I looked back over my shoulder and one of them was walking backwards away from me with that sweet smile playing across her mouth. Her lips parted slightly and I swear she pouted them at me. Not an overt pout just a gentle pressure of the lips that brought the corners of her mouth in slightly as if she were puckering her mouth to kiss. Who? Me? Surely not, but then? She turned around and with her two friends started to skip down the road, her little plaid skirt bouncing up at the back and occasionally offering a glimpse of dark green schoolgirl knickers. I meanwhile carried on to the station pondering what it might be like getting under that skirt.

I flash my season ticket at the barrier man and arrive on the platform just in time as my train is pulling in. At first sight it seems that it is going to be standing room only again. You pay all this money for a ticket to travel on the train and hardly ever get a seat. Such is the state of the railways these days.

Yes, as I thought, now I am in the carriage there is nowhere to sit. Actually there is hardly anywhere to stand. I squeeze myself into a corner of the coach with my back to the wall and watch as even more people pile on board. A woman in her early twenties I guess, is trying to get on and finally manages it. She positions herself right in front of me with her cute bottom only a hairsbreadth from my crotch which is still suffering from the result of watching the schoolies.

The carriage lurches as the train pulls away from the station and the young lady staggers a little and falls back against my hard cock straining inside my trousers. That does nothing for my state of mind but plenty for my enjoyment. She looks over her shoulder and then flashes a glance downward. Clearly she had felt something. I feel the usual flush of embarrassment being caught out with a semi in public.

Nobody in the carriage has any room for movement, each passenger virtually holding the others up by virtue of being so closely confined.

I am wondering whether I might be lucky and have her fall back again when I feel a gentle stroking sensation on my crotch. Glancing down I can see that she has let her free hand, the one she is not using to hold herself up by clutching the wall of the carriage, slip round behind her. Her palm is facing out and she is gingerly stroking it across my fly. Never one to turn down an opportunity, especially one like this, I push my hips forward so she knows I can feel her hand. An unexpected start to the day to be sure.

Oh dear she took it away. She had moved her hand leaving my cock pleading for more. A request which I guessed was going to be ignored.

The coach is rocking as the train speeds towards its destination. She seems to be making a conscious effort to make sure she doesn't bump into me again. That's a pity I had hoped for more. I wondered whether I could start something. I lower my hand to her right buttock and give it a quick squeeze. There is one thing to be said for crowded trains. Nobody notices what is going on below waist level except the person it is happening to, and I think that might have done the trick.

I feel her hand moving back to its original position only this time she is being a lot more meaningful in her action. Not so much a fleeting featherlike touch but a definite rub. Oh that is nice. She only has small hands and by positioning herself even closer to me she is able to rest her hand on her bottom while keeping in contact with my softly throbbing cock. She is close enough for me to smell the sweet aroma of the shampoo she used to wash her hair this morning. Lovely hair, dead straight, quite fine and down to just below her shoulder blades. It is an unusual colour, obviously natural but somewhere between light brown and auburn. I take a moment while luxuriating in her touch to check out the rest of her. From the back it's not easy to see much. She looks quite slim about five two tall. Wearing a summery yellow blouse under a thin cashmere cardigan. Skirt is not short, she is clearly a classy girl. Probably about two inches above her knee. Pretty, the colour of flax flowers, a lovely soft blue with wide pleats, not schoolgirl pleats but the sort that fans out when turning quickly. Nice legs, slender in light tan nylons. I wonder whether she is a tights or stockings girl. Probably stockings, I decide, mulling over the pleasant thought of suspender clasps against her soft white thighs. High heels, about two inches I guess, another pastel shade. Not sure whether it is taupe. Probably taupe because that sounds so much nicer than beige. Two inch heels means she is only five foot tall in her bare feet and what would I give to see her bare feet.

I am lost in the moment, a heady perfume assailing my nostrils and a warm soft touch assailing my crotch. My penis responding to her ministrations by flexing back against her hand. There can be little doubt that she knows I am aroused and she obviously enjoys having such power over me.

The train brakes squeal and as the wheels spin more slowly we approach St James Park, the only station between where I got on and my destination in the heart of Woolchester. Stopped. People moving around, positions shifting, newspapers being hastily folded. Too many people getting off, too much possibility of vacant seats. She is going to walk away. The doors open, about a dozen people get off, but before she can move to take one of the seats there are other new passengers getting on. She isn't moving. Passengers pass in front of her and take the empty seats. She stays close to me, her hand has lifted off but still rests with her knuckles touching her sweet bottom. Doors closing, all seats full, she edges backward and my cock feels the renewed warmth of her palm. Thank heavens my ecstasy can carry on where it was so rudely interrupted.

The train picks up speed, her hand moving in time with the swaying of the carriage. Not stroking so much now but more gently squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing. My cock joins in the rhythm of the rails. Twitch, relax, throb, relax. Twitch relax, clickety clack, clickety clack. It is almost hypnotic. Swelling markedly and pressing against the inside of my fly. It is taking a lot of willpower to overcome the incessant urge to cum. No way. I can't let that happen. Concentrate you idiot. Throb, throb, throb...

At last we arrive at Woolchester Central station and I feel a coolness as she withdraws her hand. The carriage doors open, people exit the train. She steps forward, her head turns and as she glances back at me there is that same smile flickering across her face that I saw on Angela at the pool yesterday. I smile back and follow her off the train, but she is quickly lost amongst the throng of commuters pressing onward down the platform.

Oh well, another fun day at the office ahead, I abandon any attempt at trying to follow and catch up with her and set my mind to the day to come. That was a delightfully unexpected interlude and sure as hell was the best journey to work I have had for a very, very long time.

The rest of the day passed with the usual preoccupations inherent in working in an office. Numerous emails, incessant telephone calls, rounds of meetings and just the occasional bit of paperwork to fill in the gaps. I often wonder how much work I would actually be able to produce if I did not have to waste so much time interacting with the rest of the world. It is ironic that the technology now available to us does not make it any easier to get the work done. In fact it has probably reduced our ability to finish things.

The clock moves inevitably onward until eventually it is time to close the files, turn of the PC and head home.

Back to the station, through Cathedral Close past St Martin's Church, the Museum and Art Gallery. Just a short walk but one I am so familiar with. I have been working in the middle of Woolchester for more than ten years. I could almost do this walk blindfolded and not even trip over a kerbstone. I have it timed to perfection. Half a mile, nine minutes from my office in Barnfield Road to the train, means I rarely have to stand around waiting on the platform. Just pass through the barrier, head for platform three and on to the four thirty train. Like clockwork.

Going home is always so much easier, so much less crowded, so less likely to be sexually assaulted. There is always a down side to everything.

I find a seat in the second carriage next to the window on the St James Park side of the train. The journey at that point is in a cutting so it isn't possible to see the football pitch but being on the south side means any remaining sunshine streams through the train window and I love sunshine.

The train is just about to leave, I am looking out of the window when I sense somebody taking the seat next to me. Not the most sociable of people and with typical British restraint I keep gazing out of the window deliberately trying not to notice the other occupant of the seat. I can feel a certain warmth spreading across towards me but not only that, there is a familiar scent in the air. A hand on my leg startles me and I turn to look at my fellow traveler.

A yellow blouse, flax blue skirt and the most ravishing smile.

"Hi. Sorry, I hope I didn't startle you?"

"Um, yes, I mean no, sorry, hello" the words tumble out of my mouth uncontrollably. I really had not expected to see her again. Why should I? I certainly had never thought she would seek me out in what was a fairly empty carriage.

"I'm Harriet" she said "Harriet Shepard" while I sat open-mouthed beside her.

"Well hello Harriet, nice to see you again" I spluttered "Do you come here often?"

What sort of a dumb question was that, but it was the only thing I could think to say. My mind was in a whirl. She laughed with the sound of water rippling over the smooth stones of a trout stream. Such a delightful laugh. My stomach knotted as I looked at her beautiful face.

"What I mean is, I haven't seen you on this train before today."

"That's because I only started work in the city today. I moved into Penstone from London last week"

I wasn't sure what to say next. It isn't everyday a beautiful young woman makes a play for me. Which is the only way I can describe what had happened on the morning train. Especially a girl of what? Maybe twenty I guessed now I could see her more clearly. A man of thirty-eight usually has to work very hard for a very long time to get to the position of anybody making a play for him, if they ever do. Now, here I was sat next to a cute girl only just out of teenage who had stroked my cock and now had her hand on my leg.

"Do you have family in the area?" I weakly asked her.

"No, it's just that the job came up and the money is good and I had to get away from a bad situation in London. It doesn't matter what but I just had to get away. About this morning..."

"Don't think about it" I replied

"No but I should. I really don't do that sort of thing you know. It's just, well the train was so crowded and when it lurched and I fell backwards and felt your, you know, in my bottom. Well I thought let's have a bit of fun, and once I touched it you got so hard so quick it just got a bit out of hand. Well no actually it got a bit in hand." She laughed quietly to herself. "Then getting on the home train tonight and seeing you sitting looking out the window I thought well why not say Hi."

"So Hi"

I was stupefied. I just sat with my mouth open staring at her in disbelief.

"Well say something. Please?"

"Look Harriet, it is Harriet?"

"Yes you heard that right."

"OK Harriet" I smiled at her. She was honestly the most beautiful girl I had seen in a long time. "Now I am sorry you had to experience my erm problem, but I was thinking of something at the time, and well you know."

"Oh yeah, I know." She giggled. "Anybody special? Your wife?"

"No, I'm divorced." I thought it would be impossible to tell her the real cause of my excitement so I tried to change the subject. "So what do you think of Woolchester?"

"Not so easy" she replied. "It's not every day a complete stranger has a hard-on in front of me on a train. So what did get you like that"

I pondered, what would she think if I told her. Probably decide I was the sort of pervert she should stay a long way from. It may be the truth but it was actually the last thing I wanted to happen now.

"If you don't tell me I am going to go and sit at the other end of the carriage" she threatened.

"Alright, but if I tell you please don't judge me."

"No problem, I'm quite open minded you know" Her face glowed as she stared deep into my eyes and my heart started beating really fast.

"Well, you see, I was walking to the station this morning and passed a group of girls on their way to school. One of them was a really pretty little blonde and well."

"Go on"

"Well, yesterday I had been in the park in Badgery near the swimming pool, you probably haven't been there yet, but one of the swimmers was this girl and she had a bit of an accident. Her bikini top broke and..."

"... and you were watching and she turned you on."

"Yes" I admitted blushing in embarrassment.

"That's the trouble with teenagers these days." she said "They don't appreciate what the sight of breasts can do to a hot blooded male. You couldn't help it, it's just a physical reaction. As long as you don't want to, you know, with little girls then forget about it."

"Maybe that is the problem, I probably should just forget about it but things like that tend to stick in the mind. No I certainly don't want to do anything like that but thinking about her again after seeing her this morning got me aroused, which is how you found me on the train. She wasn't exactly a teenager though. I don't know how old she is but I suspect she is an age that any decent man would not even think about" I pondered what she had just said. Was that the problem? Do I have desires for young girls? I didn't know the answer but was certain that although I could sense the beauty in their lithe limbs and supple bodies that was all it was. An appreciation of beauty. I frequently pleasured myself thinking of sights I had seen but at no point did I ever contemplate doing anything inappropriate with a girl who was not ready to experience similar pleasure. I had looked at lots of pictures of attractive preteen models in magazines and yes there was a stirring down below but who would not be stimulated by the prospect of the beauty to come and the thought of who might be the lucky recipient of it once they reached a legal age. As for ever contemplating taking advantage of an underage girl, the whole thought was abhorrent to me. I shuddered. But deep down inside I knew the truth, the ugly truth, and it actually frightened me. All this denial and yet.

Harriet looked at me quizzically. "Not exactly? What does that really mean?"

This was it then. The moment when she gets up and walks off never to be seen again. "I told you I'm quite open-minded." She continued. But could I tell her the truth? I was uncertain. She smiled that disarming smile again and my defences collapsed.

"She was probably eleven or twelve I guess. Definitely not a teenager or if she was then she was most definitely a late developer. I'm sorry, that's not what you needed to hear."

I looked at her to see if she really would be that unconcerned about what she would almost certainly consider a predilection for pre-pubescence. Her gaze had not wavered from my face and her smile was still fixed. Not falsely but as if she really was truly open-minded. She didn't answer but her grip on my thigh tightened. I felt that things might actually work out OK. She hadn't cast me aside as a hopeless deviant

"You are remarkable Harriet" I said. I wondered whether I should push my advantage and try and ask her out. What the heck, nothing ventured as they say and she did still have her hand on my thigh "Do you have anything planned this evening? I can always knock up a meal for two as easy as one."

"I guess I could, it will save me trying to find a ready meal. I don't have any friends locally yet so it would be churlish to turn down an offer." she looked away for a moment and then thoughtfully. "Where do you live by the way?"

"I've got a little place in Honey Lane"

"Really? I'm renting a house on Danesway, that's only just round the corner isn't it?"

"Yes, it's only five minutes walk away. Does that mean you might consider my suggestion then?" I asked her in eager anticipation that she might agree.

"Oh why not" that smile was so beguiling I could feel stirrings again only inches from where her hand was resting. I just hoped she didn't notice, but her eyes flicked down and up again and her smile broadened even further. "Naughty boy" she said.

The train had passed St James Park, stopped, let passengers off, others on and left the station without me even noticing and now were pulling in to Penstone. Harriet and I stood and moved toward the door, then off the train, onto the platform and a few yards away through the little white painted gate which led out to the Station Approach.

The walk back home along Station Road and Main Road past the now closed 'Brandistone Arms' was uneventful. Just casual conversation about where she was working now and how long had I been in the area and what went wrong with my marriage. All the usual getting acquainted chit chat but carried out at a pace I could not believe. By the time we turned into the little path that led through to Honey Lane it was as if we had known each other for ever. I opened the front door, stood back to let her pass and then closed it behind us.

"This is a lovely bungalow Lewis." Politeness personified, she could not possibly know that from just inside the front door.

"Thanks Harriet, I like it"

"It's clean too. Obviously a man who knows how to take care of things" and she winked at me knowingly.

I showed her into the lounge and divested her of her cardigan. She sat on the couch and I settled down in the recliner opposite her.

"Sorry this is very rude of me, I should have thought. Would you like a coffee?"

"Rather have a tea if you can manage it please. Do you have Earl Grey?"

"Of course" I stood and went into the kitchen to fix us both a cup. Looking back at the lounge I could see that she had stood and was taking a metaphorical inventory of my possessions.

"No pictures of your ex-wife Lewis?"

"Definitely not, bad memories are enough without having to look at her every day."

She had picked up a photo frame and was studying it intently. "So who is this little angel then? I didn't know you had a daughter"

"Um, I don't. That's Amy she is the daughter of one of my neighbours."

"Really…. So what are you doing with her picture on your mantelpiece?"

"Her family have been good friends to me and she does come round here quite a bit"

I could tell from her body language that she suspected something, but she didn't say what was in her mind. "I'll leave it there then" Harriet seemed to be a very discrete young lady even if she was quite forward when it came to men on trains.

I had made the tea, brought it into the lounge and we were drinking and chatting when she surprised me, not for the first time today. This was completely out of the blue though.

"Look, I know this is probably a bit unorthodox but would you mind if I took a shower when I've finished this? It has been a warm day today." Not the most expected gambit at this stage but who was I to argue.

I quickly wracked my brain to think whether I had left the bedrooms and bathroom tidy this morning. I was pretty sure it was OK. "Sure I'll take you upstairs when you are ready,"

"I bet you will" she winked again.

It must have been maybe half an hour before she raised the question again. I took the empty cups into the kitchen and then led the way upstairs. As I reached the top of the stairs and turned to see if she was following she had already taken off her cardigan and had the buttons of her blouse undone. Her small breasts encased in a pretty white bra tempting me from below. I backed along the landing as she reached the top of the stairs. Turning the corner she had divested herself of her blouse and skirt. Just her underwear remained. Unbelievable. What had I done to deserve this, or was I really on 'Candid Camera'

"Come on Lewis, I really don't like showering alone. Aren't you going to get naked too?"

What could a poor man do under such provocation? I started to take my clothes off and headed into the bathroom at the same time. Turning the shower on, I shucked off my shirt, trousers and underwear dropping them to the floor. Harriet appeared in the doorway standing like a stork as she struggled to get her remaining leg out of her knickers. No bra and her perky little tits pointing at me.

I couldn't fail to notice that her pussy mound had been shaved smooth leaving her looking like a five foot nothing teenager with the cutest little slit and tightly closed pussy lips surrounding it.

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth or for that matter a sex kitten in the pussy, I pulled her into the shower. The warm water quickly soaked us both.

I watched her as she stood beside me her eyes fixed on mine. Looked down at her wet nakedness. I beheld her slender femininity close to me for the first time.

Curves which had previously been concealed by her clothes were readily visible now.

She wrapped her arms about my neck and kissed me deeply. In an instant, I felt her tongue probing my lips, then darting past, onward into my mouth like a slippery little eel writhing around on my tongue. She took my left hand and moved it to her breast. I was in heaven.

Slowly, I began to move against her, my hands steadily roaming over her beautiful, slender young frame, to her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders, her back. I eventually broke from our ecstatic embrace, knowing that she, the object of my desire, was mine for the taking.

I ran my hands over her once more as I slid onto my knees, kissing my way downward, ever closer to the part of her I desired the most. Lovingly licking each erect nipple as I passed by, stopping to plant a kiss on her belly-button, and then, down, down towards the seat of my desire. I found her smooth shaved pussy nestling between her wonderful slender legs. Totally bare, not a sign that she had shaved, almost as if she were still waiting for puberty to set in and make her the woman which she undoubtedly was.

When some men dream of lovemaking it is just a desire to fuck. But not for me, I love foreplay almost as much as girls do. I wanted to enjoy every second of this, I was in no hurry to get inside her even if my cock was telling a different story. Tasting her on my tongue, smelling the unmistakable aroma of arousal. I wanted to be on my knees, my head between her thighs, practically drowning in the streaming shower water as it poured over her and then downward on its endless journey to me. I was worshipping at the altar of her body.

I began by kissing her mons pubis, so soft and smooth as it jutted above her cleft. It tasted very slightly of the salty remnants of her perspiration, but not in a bad way. It actually heightened my arousal. Lovely. Then moving downward, towards her labia, her womanhood, I buried my face deep between her thighs, first taking a breath of the musky aroma of her arousal. I kissed the puffy lips at the entrance to her vagina. Not like the labia of most mature women but so much more like those of a teenager. Seemingly not fully developed although clearly that was not the case, the outer labia still concealed the entrance to her opening. There was no sign of the sometimes slightly unattractive inner labia which older women these days are often having reduced in an attempt to regain the beauty of youth or maybe just to please the lustful demands of a husband who dreams again of the girls of his younger days.

She moaned as I tongued her pussy, occasionally instructing me how to give her more pleasure, her hands first running through my hair, then grasping and pushing my face further into the V where her thighs didn't quite meet.

After what seemed an eternity of bliss, her moaning began to intensify to screams of pleasure, and I knew that my tongue was achieving what fucking alone often cannot. I was fulfilling her. I continued, enjoying the taste, her scent, the warmth of her crotch, until she again cried out. This time, she pulled me away from her. Her fists buried in my hair. I leaned forward against the pressure that was trying to pull my hair out at the roots. I had to have more of her cunt. I kissed her again. Again she dragged me away.

I stood, my tongue grazing her belly as I moved upwards. My face drew level with hers and she pulled me to her until our lips met. She didn't seem to mind the taste of her pussy which was still lingering on my mouth and tongue, rather, she seemed to revel in it, kissing me more deeply than she had kissed me before.

She drew back and spoke: "Now, what would you like me to do for you, big boy?" Clearly an ironic description but it made me smile. She pushed me away slightly so she could look at my body with the rivulets of water running down either side of my erect member and down my thighs. I must be honest for a guy in his late thirties I scrubbed up quite well. Not gym fit but no unsightly paunch either.

"How about, if I," Her sentence was left hanging in the air as she proceeded to rub her hands over my erect cock. It took no more than a few moments stimulation to bring me to a full erection and a few seconds more brought me to orgasm. A huge wad of semen shot from my engorged member all over her belly and into her waiting hands. Without pausing and in the most erotic fashion, she immediately scooped up all the cum that had not yet been washed away by the jet of water from the shower. Both of her little hands coated with my semen. She lifted her hands to her lips and licked my ejaculate daintily from between her fingers.

Any chance of me losing my erection faded as I watched her doing what none of my previous partners had ever done. My ex-wife never even wanted to fellate me, let alone take any pleasure in the end result of an orgasm. Harriet eagerly feasted on all she could find, even a small remnant she spotted on the wall next to her, which she brought her lips toward and in the most erotic way I have ever seen, even in porn movies, licked it from the shower wall.

What she said next was more than I could ever have dreamed of.

"More? Pretty please". Her smile lit up the room.

Toweling off was a very interesting proposition. As I live alone I didn't have a lot of towels in the bathroom. Most of them were in the airing cupboard in the bedroom. So, there was only one towel between the two of us. This did not stop us however, we made do, playfully drying each other, touching each other, fondling each other.

My clothes which had been discarded on the way into the bathroom were, to say the least, soaked, we had been so enthusiastic in a shower cubicle designed only for one person that the water had gone everywhere. I made a quick exit back to my room for replacements.

Harriet followed me, naked, with the small towel wrapped around her head. A vision of loveliness if not of modesty. I have seen many Sikhs in turbans of many colours but Harriet in white was far more attractive than a bearded Punjabi could ever be. On the way to my room she picked up her clothes which lay strewn along the landing.

Once we reached the master bedroom, I opened the window, as the summer heat was quite stifling now. Still being slightly wet from the shower heightened the difference between the heat of the room and the cool breeze coming in through the window.

I watched in wonderment as Harriet's lithe naked body fell back onto my bed where she luxuriated amongst the pillows and cushions. The cushions were left over from my marriage. You would not believe the Ideal Homes touches which still remained. I marveled at the beauty of her form. Her legs, the colour of warm sand, parted slightly allowing me to see the beauty of her bald pussy between her thighs. She showed no sign of embarrassment and let her legs stay parted as she wrapped herself in the coverlet. It gave just enough protection to take the chill off but not enough to prevent me from watching her sex in all its glory. She saw me looking and covered her embarrassment with the coverlet

Still dripping slightly from the shower. I opened the cupboard and grabbed another towel, climbed on to my bed where Harriet snuggled up against me making purring noises just like a soft, fluffy kitten. Which is what she was right now, my little fluffy kitten.

"Let me help, please" she said as I began to dry myself.

She took the towel from my hands and began to gently rub it all over my body. I rolled over to let her dry me and then turned onto my back so she could rub the soft towel all over my chest and arms.

"Sit up. That's better. Let me dry your hair."

She stopped for a moment.

"I'm still a little bit damp, too." she said. I smiled to myself thinking that I was glad she was, that was going to make things so much easier.

"Not there, you creep." She laughed throwing her head back and letting her hair fall free from the towel in which it was wrapped.

She resumed what she had been doing by rubbing the towel over my face, which I found to be still pleasantly soaked with the smell of her sex. She moved the towel downward, toward my now flaccid organ, making ever broadening circles about my chest and belly, until she at last reached my crotch.

I turned toward her, pulling off the coverlet that partially covered her firm young body. She lay completely naked now on her side, using the thick towel to caress me. It felt so beautiful. I watched her as she worked, taking in the whole of her frame properly, for the first time. The gentle curve of her hip, her slender waist, two tiny feet, and her twinkling eyes, alight with what was an undeniable spark of desire.

I took the other end of the now damp towel, and began to reciprocate her caress. She didn't really need drying off. By now her skin was starting to glow and the cool air from the window was making her little pink nipples stand proud from her small breasts. I began with these, applying gentle pressure to each, squeezing and then tenderly pulling them slightly with shaking hands in the towel. Soon her nipples began to stiffen. I cupped each of her little breasts with my hands. It was as if my palms had been built specifically for this purpose. She had the most beautiful small breasts which fitted me perfectly as I massaged them, first one, then the other.

She kissed me again. More tenderly then passionately, slower and softer. My hands moved from beneath the towel to encircle her waist, then up her chest, tracing the outline of each rib as I went, cupping her lovely breasts again then sliding one hand to her shoulder.

With my other hand, I drew her close to me, pulling her on top of me.

She smiled as she felt my firm body against her softness, my cock pressed against the wet folds of her labia for the first time.

"You look so excited" she said "Anyone would think it was your first time."

"It is my first time. With you" I smiled at her.

"OK then. I'll try to make this special for you, my little virgin boy" her voice trailed off to nothing, as our hands continued to explore each other's body.

I pressed her tightly against me, stroking her back and thighs, but I found that I could not bring myself to make the necessary move to penetrate her just yet.

I continued kissing her perfect lips and enjoyed the erotic sensation of my cock rubbing against her slit. Sliding up and down stroking my engorged head against her labia and gently, so tenderly allowing it to slip between them and push up against the firm little bud of her clitoris. All the time stimulating it with my hand as I rubbed her between her pussy lips.

Penetration came without warning.

She was moaning as I fingered her, while she was playfully pinching one of my nipples. Suddenly, she moved her hips violently towards my thighs and in one fluid motion my penis buried itself inside her soft warm folds. I could feel the ridges of her vaginal walls as the head of my cock drove deeper and deeper inside her exquisite wetness. Her face is what I remember most clearly. Her forehead and cheeks glowed beneath the fringe of long, now dark hair, still damp from the shower. Her mouth was wide open, her lips engorged with blood in the heat of passion, while her smiling eyes spoke of the feelings she was experiencing between her lower lips.

We fucked slowly, this first time. I was more than willing to let her control my movements inside her. Not wanting anything more than to ensure we both got the most out of our first experience of each other. I let her decide how fast or how deep she wanted me to be. Sometimes she would moan some instruction to me, at other moments guiding me with her hands. She spent some of her time on top, sometimes side by side and sometimes beneath me where I seemed to engulf her completely, so childlike was her body.

When she rode me I was able and more than willing to stimulate her with my fingers at the same time while she fondled my body, teasing my nipples and stroking my chest.

I really don't know how long we spent making love. It seemed at the time that it went on forever.

Occasionally, she would try to tickle me, or I would stroke her smooth soft back causing her to start giggling infectiously. I know now how ticklish she is.

Sometimes she would whisper something in my ear. I never really understood what she said then, being too caught up in the fact that we were making love and relishing the intense heat from her vagina as it squeezed my throbbing penis. I was making love to probably the most desirable female I had for many years. Certainly the youngest girl I had fucked since I was in my twenties.

After a time, perhaps it was forever, I felt the surge of something not far from pain filling me, starting at my balls and swelling upwards through my belly. My engorged penis was involuntarily throbbing deep inside her as the head touched the entrance to her womb.

She must've felt it, too, but merely continued to meet my quickening thrusts. I felt wave after wave of pleasure sweep through me, running from the top of my spine through to the end of my penis, as spurt after spurt of my semen squirted into her hot, tight, wet pussy. Yet even after I finished, I continued to thrust, slowing the pace, rather than coming to an abrupt halt. The sensation was so delightful. The feeling of her vagina squeezing my penis helped by her obviously controlling her pelvic floor muscles. I could feel, and actually hear my semen squelching inside her love tunnel but I was in no hurry to withdraw.

Eventually however my cock returned to its unaroused state and unwillingly I let it slide out of her leaving a white trail of semen over her pussy lips as it went flaccid. She pulled her knees up to her belly, turned over in the foetal position and sighing contentedly to herself, went to sleep.

I watched her for a while and then wrapping my arms around her slumbering form I too faded to grey.

7,481 Words.

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