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[Haughtywench]

The passenger train sways back and forth, gently at first then with sharp jerks that wrests away my balance. I stumble in the in the narrow aisle, trying to get back to my seat with a modicum of grace. Stepping over feet sticking out in the walkway, avoiding elbows, blankets and the detritus of family snack time. I hope that my seat is still empty, that no one has tried to claim it as their own during the last stop. I like to be able to stretch out on the train, to have my books and knitting close at hand. I had been lucky so far, no seat mate yet and I have the prized last seat on the last car with as close to privacy as is possible on the sparsely populated train.
I fight my way between the wildly swaying doors and finally get back to seat number 36. Oh great. I have a seat mate now. He’s tall too. That means he’s all legs, arms and elbows. My books and yarn are in my seat, not neatly. He’s snoring and sprawled out like a disjointed puppet.
I grab my yarn and try to wind it back up while swaying in the aisle. He must have dropped it as it is snarled like a pack of kittens had attacked it, my needles are nowhere to be seen. My irritation increases with the dark-haired man in the grey flannel suit. He’s handsome in a travel-worn way, but with lousy manners. I dismiss all friendly notions from my mind. Lousy manners.
I bend over to put the ball back into my travel bag. The train goes into a tunnel. The lights dim and flash and the train lurches to the right and shudders to a stop. I stumble, loose my balance and fall, on to my seat mate who makes a “OomPH!” sound with my impact. I just lay there for a second, stunned. He smells warm and sweet, like cinnamon. Oh god, that’s his breath, I’m laying on a stranger in the dim yellow light of the train and I’m close enough to smell his breath! I’m suddenly very self conscious and I struggle to get to back to my side of the seat. Why aren’t the lights coming on? I freeze. He’s put one of his big hands onto my back and is holding me against him! I try to wriggle out of his grasp and he puts his other hand on my back. With each movement, I’m rubbing my breasts against him and somehow he has managed to wedge his leg between my own. Why did I choose to wear a skirt for this trip? Yes, the knit did not wrinkle and was quite comfortable, but now I felt very vulnerable and exposed in the faint yellow tinged emergency lights.
My eyes start to adjust to the light. He’s awake and he’s looking at me with amusement in his eyes and a wolfish smile on his lips. “Let go of me.” I tell him. He shakes his head and grips me a little tighter. I gasp a little, he’s strong. I am sitting on his flannel clad thigh now and each movement just reminds me of this. I feel all the blood in my body rush to my cheeks and much lower.
“Shh...” He holds me close and in a low voice whispers into my ear, “We might be here in the dark for a long while, you don’t want to wake up the children in the front now do you? I was having such a good dream too.” He shifts my weight gently. “I’m not sure that I’m not still dreaming though.” He’s so self assured, it makes me a little angry and confused. I struggle a bit and that just increases the friction of his thigh between my legs.
“You like that.” He states warmly with that cinnamon-scented breath against my face. “Go ahead, use me like that. I won’t tell anyone and neither will you. Strangers on a train and all that.” He chuckles softy. I look about... the rest of the passengers are all sleeping. No one can see us in the very last seat of the very last car. I tilt my hips, experimentally. The friction feels wonderful and hot. I’m very wet already, it has been so long since I was naughty and he’s very friendly. Very friendly. I can feel the heat of his hard length down his thigh.
When he senses that I’m not going to bolt, he releases me gently and trails a hand up to trace the curve of my cheek, the other hand dips low to catch my buttock. “Beautiful in any light.” He slips his fingers beneath the hem of my rumpled skirt to trace large fingers over my sodden panties. With one swift movement his fingers delve under the elastic and trace my molten center. This is dangerous, happening too fast and I do not want to stop. His other hand traces the lump of my swollen nipple through my light knit shirt. He deftly slips underneath my vulva and begins to rub my lips slowly, watching my face in the dim light. I stand up a little to allow him full access to my loins and pull my blanket around us, just in case someone is not sleeping as soundly as I think, but that just adds to the forbidden nature of the activity. A complete stranger is stroking my delightfully tender inner lips. I am rubbing my painfully stiff clitoris on the palm of his hand and trying not to make a sound. I bite my lip and shudder hard, starlight exploding behind my eyelids and my climax is suddenly rolling over me hard, filling his palm with my fluids. I fall against him spent, breathing raggedly.
I dismount from his leg and our eyes glimmer in the dusky light. The train lurches forward again and begins to leave the tunnel. Daylight sneaks between the curtains and I see my seat mate clearly, promptly forgetting all about messy yarn snarls and lost needles.