	Naked on the Train





At last! thought Emerald, lovingly waving goodbye to her parents as the train pulled 
off. She'd got the compartment to herself, and her family were gone.  Not that she 
didn't love her mother and father and darling sister Betty, but it was term time and she 
was off to her other life, where she was more or less free to do as she wished. She 
bent her neck as far as she could to see a last glimpse of Betty running along the 
platform edge, waving her handkerchief at her as the train picked up pace, a cloud of 
dark smoke passing by the window as the wheels clattered and clunked as it took her 
off to boarding school. Soon, she'd be with her friends, all in their smart school 
uniforms, plaits under school bonnets and firm young bodies hidden under blouses, 
blazers and skirts.

But her journey wasn't to be a wholly uninterrupted one, as Emerald found 
when, having hardly read any of the serialised adventures of the girls of Blessington 
High in her magazine, the train came to a halt at the next stop on the line. At least, 
after this, there'd be hardly any more stops until she got to her destination where all 
the girls of the School of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Boedean, would be gathering: a 
mass of hockey sticks, plaits and white knee-high socks with their luggage and 
hovering school mistresses and Bert, the ancient school janitor. 

She watched with some anxiety as people wandered past her compartment 
along the corridor. She was rather hoping she might have it all to herself; but this was 
not to be as a middle-aged woman poked her head through the window, saw that the 
compartment was virtually empty, and announced: "This one'll do, dear." Curses, 
exclaimed Emerald to herself. This was not to be such a tranquil journey. However, 
her next thought was rather of astonishment as she realised that the woman who had 
said this was completely naked. Otherwise, she was a fairly conventional looking 
woman, her hair permed and a leather handbag slung over her shoulder. But all 
Emerald could focus on was the woman's enormous motherly breasts and a slightly 
bulging stomach so different from Emerald's own or indeed any of her schoolfriends.

"Come along, Beatrice dear," she said to a girl much more Emerald's own age, 
who was naked like her mother, but had her hair tied back in plaits like Emerald. 

She was humping a large suitcase into the compartment and had a satchel over her 
shoulder. Behind them came a man, presumably Beatrice's father, who was also 
naked, with a pipe hanging from his lips, below his neat moustache, and pulling along 
a much larger suitcase. The three of them came into the compartment, and began 
hauling the cases onto the luggage rack. The mother smiled at Emerald, who smiled 
back, but whose mind was inevitably focused on the man's penis. This was the first 
time Emerald had ever seen a real penis before. The only ones she'd ever had a 
glimpse of till then had been made of marble or stone and were attached to statues. 
This was a real one, somehow larger than she'd imagined and also rather wobbly and 
loose. And there was so much hair on it! She didn't know why, but she somehow 
imagined rather less hair than this one had.

The two parents settled down their charge, who sat immediately opposite 
Emerald, discreetly crossing her legs so that she was barely able to see a glimpse of 
the short sparse hairs of her crotch. However, Emerald's confused eyes were able to 
settle on her small but perfectly formed breasts, with slightly darker pink nipples than 
the pale pink of the rest of her skin, and a general slimness much like Emerald's own 
and very much like that of most of her friends from school. The parents fussed around 
Beatrice, kissing her goodbye in an awkward angle which gave Emerald a very close 
view of their different sized buttocks and a glimpse of their genitals. The father's 
bottom was taut and tight, and ever so hairy! The mother's buttocks were very round 
and large and fleshy, and Emerald was slightly startled to see just how much hair she 
had around the crotch. It had been a shock enough for her when she and her 
schoolfriends became hairy down below, but it was even more shocking to reflect on 
just how much more hair was due to take root in that so very private area.

"Have a good journey, Beatrice darling," said the mother. "And don't forget to 
write. We do so love to read your letters."

"I will, Mummy," Beatrice said, kissing her mother on the cheek.

"And goodbye, dear," said her father. "Don't forget to tip the porter when he 
carries out your bags. A thruppenny bit should be more than enough."

"I won't forget, Father," Beatrice assented.

"Well, we must be off dear," announced the mother. "We don't want to be 
caught on the train as it leaves."

With that, the two parents left their daughter in the carriage and returned to the 
platform. Emerald watched them leave with barely hidden fascination, and joined 
Beatrice's gaze who waved her parents goodbye as the train prepared to leave. 
Emerald found it very difficult to focus on the adventures of the girls of Blessington 
High when there was so much bare flesh to study. It was true that she'd not seen 
anything to compare with the naked bodies of the two naked parents as they stood on 
the platform smiling and waving at their daughter, the father with his pipe in his hand 
and the mother with a handkerchief held up to her weeping eyes. However, this was 
certainly not the first time that Emerald had seen a naked girl before. Indeed, one of 
the very things that she was looking forward to when getting back to school was to 
revisit just those pleasures.

In fact, it was the prospect of thinking about her many schoolfriends, but 
particularly Edith and Belinda, that Emerald had been looking forward to in the 
compartment. And this was why she'd so hoped that she'd have the compartment to 
herself. Then she could slip a hand down her white cotton knickers, and perhaps the 
other up her blouse to massage her own small nipples, and think again of her 
girlfriends' bare bodies. Edith's slender dark arms and firm growing breasts. Belinda's 
freckled face, and those freckles which scattered over her shoulders, breasts and over 
the slight down of her arms. And here, instead of memories and fantasies, Emerald 
was confronted by the real thing.

Soon enough, the train was on its way, Beatrice's parents receding into the 
distance as Emerald's own had been, and Emerald was curious to see Beatrice brush 
away a tear. Clearly, this was a girl with stronger family feelings than her own. She 
smiled at Beatrice as the girl looked up and studied her fellow passenger seemingly 
for the first time.

"So, you're back to school for the new year as well?" Emerald asked boldly.

"Yes," sniffed Beatrice. "I'm back to Burlingbury School for Girls."

"I've never heard of it," sniffed Emerald who thought she knew the names of 
all the top public schools. This must be a very minor public school indeed. "Is it a day 
school or does it have boarders?"

"It's all boarders," replied Beatrice, dabbing her damp eyes with her own lace 
handkerchief. "That's because it's the only school of its kind in the country. Almost 
everyone has to travel ever such a long way to get there."

"What's so special about it that it's the only one of its kind?"

"Well, that's because it's a naturist school."

"A 'naturist' school?" queried Emerald, who had not even heard the term 
before. "What's that?"

Beatrice smiled at Emerald's innocence. "It's a school for naturists." She could 
see Emerald's continued incomprehension. "You know. Nudists. People who don't 
like to wear clothes. Like my parents. And, I guess, like myself. My parents were very 
keen that I continue in the family tradition."

Emerald raised her eyes and eyebrows as she began to comprehend the 
situation. "So you and your family are 'naturists' or 'nudists'. Is that like a religion or 
something, like 'Baptists' or 'Methodists'?"

"Not exactly. Many of the girls at my school are religious. But they're all sorts. 
Quakers, Catholics, Anglicans, everything really. No, naturism's a way of life, not a 
religion."

"That sounds really funny. So, you don't wear clothes at home and you don't 
wear clothes at school?"

"Yes, that's right. None of the girls at school wear clothes ever. Not in the 
classrooms, not in the playgrounds and not in the playing fields."

Emerald drew a deep breath. The vision of a whole school of naked girls 
excited her. She could just imagine a class of naked female flesh: girls with firm 
breasts raising their hands for attention from a naked teacher. Or playing hockey with 
no clothes and only hockey shoes to protect their feet. And possibly not even that, 
although Emerald observed that Beatrice was wearing some quite smart black shoes 
with white ankle-high socks. Perhaps that was the nearest to a school uniform they 
had at Beatrice's school, other than being naked of course. 

The very image of so many naked girls flooded her mind, and almost choked 
her with a sense of excitement. "And do the girls have sex together?" Emerald found 
herself saying, before common sense could censor her thoughts.

"Sex? Of course not!" gasped Beatrice, who seemed genuinely shocked. "I 
mean, they're not married or anything. And certainly not to each other. And anyway 
girls don't ... don't ... not with other girls anyway. That just doesn't make sense. I 
just never thought anyone ever would. It's not right, is it? It's got to be with ... with 
... After all, girls don't have what boys have ..."

Beatrice's innocence rather startled Emerald. But then, of course, there were 
girls at her own school who'd never suspected that there was more to life than 
virginity followed by marriage and children. In fact, Edith herself had been just as 
naïve when Emerald had first introduced her to pleasures of the flesh that she now 
craved so often and so fervently.

Emerald chose not to pursue that exact line of discussion. "So, everyone at the 
school wears no clothes all the time? And the teachers as well?"

"Pretty much so. After all, it is a naturist school. There's no sense in being a 
naturist if you wear clothes."

"I'm sure that's true," Emerald agreed. "But don't you ever feel quite strange 
being naked? After all, it's not normal, is it?"

"It seems normal to me. It's only at times like these when I'm with textiles like 
you that I ever feel at all self-conscious about it."

"So, if I wasn't wearing any clothes like you, then you'd feel more 
comfortable?" asked Emerald with such a sweet concerned smile on her freckled face.

"I hadn't thought of that, but I suppose you're right. It's not very often I get to 
meet people with clothes on. To me, it seems a bit strange. Clothes seem so 
unnecessary. It's not as if what's hidden underneath is anything to be ashamed of."

"Indeed not!" vehemently agreed Emerald, who in truth was in no way 
ashamed of her body and who associated pleasure rather than shame with any 
opportunity to divest herself of her clothes. She liked the contour of her slim waist and 
her thin thighs as they trailed towards her angular knees, the slight bulge of her calves 
and eventually to those toes which Belinda so enjoyed taking into her mouth. Emerald 
smiled indulgently at the memory of her friend's tongue on the sensitive web of skin 
between her varnished nails. "So, if I were to take my clothes off here. In this 
compartment. With you. Then you would feel more comfortable and relaxed?"

Beatrice blushed. "Well, I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble. After all, 
textiles are supposed to prefer wearing clothes. That's what I've always understood."

"I would much prefer that you were able to be more comfortable," Emerald 
commented, taking off her blazer and then unbuttoning her school blouse, exchanging 
glances between the awkward buttons on the cotton front and Beatrice's bemused 
expression. 

Emerald was enjoying this. She loved it when she let her arms slip through the blouse 
sleeves. And she got such a little thrill that trembled her legs and caught her breath 
as she eased her skirt down off her knickers, over her knees and threaded her feet through 
it: in their black patent leather shoes and knee-high socks. And then as she sat there 
in just her slip and knickers, she smiled to herself. This was such a thrill! And there 
was more, so much more to do. 

"I have to take everything off, don't I?" asked Emerald with a wicked smile 
which a less innocent girl than Beatrice would have recognised as lascivious 
excitement. "That's what you naturists do, don't you? Everything off? Nothing on?"

"Yes. That's true. That's exactly right," said Beatrice who was feeling far from 
more comfortable as this strange girl she'd only just met was taking off her clothes. 
Why did it seem so different when this girl displayed her flesh? Why wasn't it the 
same somehow with her friends at school? After all, they were always naked like her. 
And she'd never felt so uneasy as she did with this girl who was still wearing her 
underwear.

But not for much longer. Emerald pulled her slip up over her head, revealing 
her pert lively breasts on her slender chest, freckles over her shoulders and the top of 
her bosom. And then the knickers were eased down over the bare legs, revealing a 
crotch of immaculate perfection: the folds of her vagina only partly invaded and the 
bare wisps of hair adding only the merest shadow to her young pale skin. She sat there 
on the train seat, naked flesh from brow to knee, her legs open somewhat wider and 
bolder than Beatrice's, taking pleasure in the frisson of daringness, given license by 
Beatrice's example to relish her naked flesh in the confines of a railway carriage, 
enjoying the warm and slightly moist sensation of the leather seat on her bare behind, 
a slight breeze coming through the carriage window onto her breasts and arms and 
legs, slightly rising the soft pale hair, bringing with it a delightful tingle which made 
her gasp in a strange almost guttural way.

Beatrice was slightly alarmed. She knew that nudity was better than being 
clothed, but she had never thought of it giving quite as much pleasure and so soon as 
that which Emerald was clearly experiencing. What did that broad grin mean? And 
what was the intent of that glint in Emerald's eyes? Whenever Beatrice had worn 
clothes, she'd always felt a kind of relief when she was at last able to remove them. 
But she'd never experienced the kind of strong sensations that Emerald was enjoying.

"It feels so good being naked like this!" exclaimed Emerald. "I think I could 
easily be a 'naturist' myself."

"I think you could," agreed Beatrice, but feeling rather embarrassed as 
Emerald began pinching one nipple with her forefinger and thumb, whilst her other 
hand wandered down to her crotch. 

Beatrice's alarm grew as Emerald stroked her crotch up and down with her hand, slightly 
parting her smooth unbroken lips, as her fingers glid up and down. Beatrice had 
sometimes touched herself down there. And she knew that it gave her a strange kind of 
pleasure as the sensitive lips of her other mouth responded to her own furtive probings. 
But she'd never seen any of her classmates indulge in such behaviour, and certainly not 
while looking at her with such a steady transfixing gaze. Nor had they ever let their 
fingers get between those fleshy lips, as Emerald was letting hers. Nor had they actually 
taken their middle finger in her presence and slid it between those lips and with a sudden 
irruption of a gasp of throaty release thrust the finger straight into those lips, while 
still looking deep into her eyes.

"It feels so good," repeated Emerald breathily. "So good! What does your 
crotch feel like?"

"I don't know," replied Beatrice uncertainly.

"You try."

"I'm not sure. I couldn't."

"Let me try for you," continued Emerald, extending the hand that had earlier 
been pinching her nipple and stroking Beatrice's bare knee. 

Beatrice's initial response was to move her leg out of the way, but somehow 
she didn't. She sat there watching Emerald with fascination as her fingers now parted 
her lips and plunged deep into the moist warmth of her vagina, a hand stroking her 
knee and sending tingling spasms of an emotion she hardly recognised up the length 
of her thigh and penetrated her own vagina which she was ashamed to admit to herself 
was burning so hot all of a sudden. What was this feeling that was gripping her? Why 
was her breath coming out with so much difficulty? What was this emotion that was 
gripping her chest? And all the while Emerald was gazing deep, so deep, into her 
eyes: such long eyelashes, such a mischievous smile glancing off her eyes and mouth, 
and those freckles on her nose becoming curiously larger and more emphatic in her 
imagination.

It scarcely surprised her at all when Emerald leaned forward, bringing her face 
close to her, an arm against her shoulder and that other hand sliding up her slender 
thighs, sending an electric tingle up the inner muscle, causing a sudden tautness and 
tightness to grip her own crotch. And then those eyes and those freckles looming so 
close, so close, so near, so intimately, and her mouth parted slightly with a gasp as 
Emerald's fingers slid towards her own young crotch, a tender spark electrifying her 
so tender and unsullied lips and hardening both her nipples and clitoris, and then. And 
then. Emerald's mouth was on hers. At first just warm dry lips on hers. A tender heat 
that reddened her ears and her cheeks.

And then. Her eyes closed. A tongue, so muscular and thick and liquid and 
warm and inviting, plunged between her teeth and through her lips, and without 
thought, and with no consideration, while a shiver of pleasure travelled up the nape of 
her neck from somewhere between the angles of her shoulder blades, and she found 
her tongue reciprocating in liquid passion. And all the while she could feel Emerald's 
fingers stroking and caressing her vulva, while another set of fingers pulled her face 
against Emerald's mouth. She timorously ventured out a hand and ran it over 
Emerald's shoulders while a strange passion took hold of her and pulled her against 
this bold young stranger.

And how it all happened, Beatrice couldn't say! But somehow, she found 
herself laid out on the long cool leather of the seat, with Emerald above her, mouth 
against mouth, bosom resting sweatily on bosom, Emerald's hands behind her back 
and along her thighs, while she gripped onto her naked textile lover with an urgency 
and a helplessness that was absorbing her. She loved the feel and scent of Emerald's 
body. So warm. So smooth. Those little freckles. Those soft hairs on her arms and 
legs. Those sensuous parted lips. She gasped and grunted, unaware of Emerald's own 
gasps and grunts as she surrendered herself to this new passion.

A passion further heightened when smoothly and so naturally, Emerald and 
she shifted position, and she found her eyes gazing at another set of lips, while 
beneath her a mouth and tongue and teeth were kissing and licking and nibbling her 
own vaginal lips, sending yet more electric signals of passion and desire along the 
length of her spine and legs. 

It seemed so natural, after examining the lips of Emerald's vagina with her fingers, 
to lower her mouth and tongue (after all, they were so close) onto those moist parted 
lips, slightly ragged on the inside, so smooth on the outside, folds hidden under folds, 
and then to lick and nibble this vagina whilst her own was being licked and nibbled in 
turn. There was ever such a confusion of smells, a melee of which she could not 
distinguish one from another. Or which came from her and which came from Emerald. So 
rich. So strong. So intoxicating. And those smells assailing her nose so close to 
Emerald's vagina were the strongest of all. And it was so moist and liquid. What was 
this pale viscous liquid that had moistened those lips? Not just her own saliva, she 
was sure. Perhaps this was what was smelling so strong.

And she probed and probed with tongue and fingers, while occasionally 
releasing a spasm of ecstasy from the reciprocal probing below. Her own vagina was 
feeling so tender, so sensuous, so vulnerable as Emerald nibbled around its lips, her 
fingers probed almost knuckle deep into the moistness which was engulfing them, and 
her thighs shivered and trembled, and her buttocks pushed themselves up without 
thought against Emerald's mouth, just as she could see her lover's crotch push up and 
down against her face. Blood filled her ears and she was unable to distinguish her 
gasps and the occasional cry from the rumbling clickety click of the steam train over 
the countryside tracks and the occasional hoot from the steam engine. 

She barely noticed even the roar as the train entered a tunnel and all went pitch black 
and steam flooded the carriage. But she noticed the train's emergence as, with a flood 
of bright morning sun, she was once again able to appreciate the folds and contours of 
Emerald's crotch, so damp and sticky and burning with such unfamiliar warmth.

So intent was she on her lovemaking, that Beatrice hardly noticed the train 
slow down, the rhythm of the tracks becoming steadier and slower, and then come to a 
full stop at a station. She and Emerald continued exploring each other's crotches, the 
tongues slowly transferring their attention up the stomach, over the breasts and back 
to the mouths again, fingers still deep in each other's crotches, two, even three fingers, 
sticky and moist inside the welcoming holes, juice easing down the vagina and onto 
the pursed entrances of their anuses. Neither girl noticed as a young woman's face 
peered through the compartment window, a broad brimmed hat sheltering her eyes. 
Nor did they notice as the train picked up steam, and with a loud hoot, slowly began to 
pull out of the station. Behind the train, the guard lowered his large red flag while the 
train rumbled on.

But the girls did notice as the door to the compartment slid open. With a 
shriek, Beatrice looked up and behind her, almost relinquishing her hand from 
Emerald's crotch, as the woman who had peered through the window slid the door 
close behind her. She wore a pink and blue summer dress and was carrying a book in 
one hand while a straw bag was slung over her shoulder. She smiled at the girls, and 
then sat down at the opposite side of the compartment from where the two girls were, 
just by the door to the corridor, and continued smiling while she straightened herself. 
She lay her bag by her side and placed her hat on top of it. Then, with no comment, 
she opened the book she was carrying and started reading it; seemingly more 
engrossed in fiction than whatever the girls were doing.

"What do we do?" hissed Beatrice, with Emerald on top of her and their 
bosom and faces squeezed close to each other.

"We continue," whispered back Emerald. "She clearly doesn't want us to 
disturb her reading, so why should she want to disturb us?"

"But ..." began Beatrice, but too late before Emerald's mouth was once again 
glued to hers. Somehow the fact that there was someone else in the same compartment 
as them gave an extra impetus to their lovemaking, even if that someone seemed more 
interested in the works of E. M. Forster than in the girls' passion. 

At first this passion was more subdued, fingers stroking the outer surface and 
not exploring deeper, kisses more limited in scope, and tongues kept inside the lips. 
But gradually, as the young woman continued reading, occasionally crossing or 
uncrossing her legs, and more frequently turning a page of her book, the two girls 
returned to a degree of passion which was if anything more than that they'd 
experienced before. Even as they erupted in cries and shrieks, the young woman 
seemed barely to raise her eyes to see what was happening.

Even when Beatrice felt a sharp fingernail slide into her anus, lubricated by 
saliva and vaginal juices, there was no reaction from the young woman. Unless the 
slight adjustment of her skirt were some kind of a response. Beatrice had never had a 
finger in her anus before. It felt strange. Quite unnatural. And slightly sore. But also, 
as the finger pushed deeper into her, the very tightness of the aperture gave her a 
spasm of pleasure she'd never expected. Beatrice didn't feel like reciprocating, and 
she wasn't sure that her reluctance was evidence of politeness or lack of 
consideration. The leather of the seat beneath her was hot and sticky and clammy, 
while Emerald's body above her was slippery and liquid and warm and firm. 

And then the door to the compartment slid open again.

"Tickets please!" announced the guard.

With a start, the two girls sat up and hurriedly searched for their train tickets in 
their bags. The guard stood at the door with an impassive expression not betraying at all 
what he might think of the sight of two naked young girls, wearing only shoes and 
socks, with sweat pouring down their faces, hair damp and unkempt from the selfsame 
sweat, a glossy shininess on their chests, stomachs and crotches, and rather foolish 
faces. He took the girls' proffered tickets, clipped them and handed them back with 
only a smile and a "Thank you."

The young woman took rather longer than the girls to find her ticket, which 
eventually after rummaging in her bag, she located in a side pocket of her dress. This 
was the only evidence that either of the girls had that the woman might have been at 
all flustered by their lovemaking. 

He clipped the ticket, stood by the door and bade the compartment farewell with a "Take 
care!" and was gone.

However, this coitus interruptus was sufficient to halt the girls' lovemaking. 
Emerald put back on her underwear, skirt and blouse, while Beatrice sat opposite 
looking at her with a sad and slightly desolate expression. When Emerald settled 
down again, once more the innocent schoolgirl, Beatrice smiled.

"Shall we write to each other?"

"Write?" wondered Emerald.

"Yes. Letters."

"Of course. Of course," replied Emerald, who had no such intention of doing 
so. "We must exchange addresses."

And so while Emerald wrote down the fictitious address of one of the girls 
from Blessington High who featured in her magazine, she thought all the while of 
how she would relate her adventures of having sex on her way back by train to a fresh 
term at school. It certainly beat Edith's story of how she lost her virginity. Or even 
Belinda's story of how she'd made love to the maid-servant. And it really didn't need 
much embellishment either.

She smiled at Beatrice as she shyly handed over the neatly handwritten address 
of her school. Such a sweet girl! thought Emerald. Too weird, though, to have as a 
long-term prospect. This naturism thing was fun, but it wouldn't help a girl find a 
good match or a secure future. And she was even now rehearsing in her mind all those 
little details of her story which would make it so much more exciting when she'd tell 
her friends. And then the three of them would collapse together on the one bed, a mass 
of flesh and passion, fired up by her story of her making love while naked on the train.















