A reader asks:

“Would you mind posting this scene on the train as an extract on it’s
own? Its a lovely scene but gets a bit lost in the rest of the chapter.”

It is a great scene, so as a special treat, here it is in isolation. If others want to read the full story that leads up to it, they can find it in Coming of Age part 3.

… we felt like partners in
crime, on the run, scurrying deeper into the backroads of Europe.

Do you remember all the naughty things we got up to? I know excited you get, thinking back
to all the naughty things we’ve done.

How you loved to tease me. I recall your favourite tactic was trying to get me hard in
situations where I could nothing about it. You’d flash your panties, perhaps whispering into
my ear how wet you were, or even leave me naughty notes to discover in my backpack.
You’ll recall how I retaliated, by promising to put you over my knee when we were next
alone. I began to keep a tally, minor teases like sticking your tongue out would earn one
spank, whilst major teases like going to the loo, fingering yourself and rubbing your pussy
juices across my lips on your return would earn five. Yet my ingenious scheme only seemed
to encourage your misbehaviour, alas.

Trains proved a regular venue for mischief, which was fitting, given how we met. I’m sure
you remember one escapade in particular.

It started innocently enough, as so many erotic adventures do. My hand resting on your
thigh, as I idly looked out the window at the passing yellow blur of vast fields of sunflowers.
I rubbed your leg in slow circles, as you laid back in your seat and sighed. Soon, you whispered into my ear: “Higher”

My hand complied, and a pattern developed: I’d rub, you’d whisper in my ear, and my hand
would stray a bit further underneath your dress. Soon, I’d reached the top of your leg, stroking
along the crease of your thigh, feeling the fabric of your panties against my fingertips.

“Higher…” you pleaded.

Our carriage was almost empty, a
virtue of our limited budget, the cheapest tickets were never on busy
trains. I looked around casually, there was no one in the seats nearby
to see us. So I let a
fingertip stray into your underwear, gently combing the fine hair on
your mound.

“Lower… please…” you whispered.

My finger drifted downwards, like a drop of water being channelled by a furrow, until I
reached the velvety soft bump of your little hood. I stroked you there, and you writhed
silently in your seat. Soon your slit was soaking wet.

“Stand up” I told you a few minutes later.

You rose, your excitement and the motion of the train making your legs wobbly. The seat in
front of you was slightly higher than your waist, helpfully shielding you from any prying eyes. I
reached under your dress with both my hands, hooking my fingers into the elastic of your
panties, pulling them right down in one swift movement.

You had to throw your hands over your mouth to stifle your gasp.

I made you step out of your panties, and picked them off the floor. The crotch was dark with
your wetness, sticky to the touch. Then I stood too, so I could whisper into your ear.

“You are a naughty girl. You know what happens to naughty girls.”

I lifted the back hem of your dress, and quietly smacked one of your bare cheeks by way of

“Now go to the toilet.” I instructed.

“Take off your dress and your bra, hang them up, and wait facing the corner with your hands
on your head. Keep the door unlocked.”

You looked round at me, your expression one of indignant shock, but I could see that was an
act, and you were struggling to keep the lust from your face. And then you turned and
walked towards the toilet at the end of the carriage, hips sashaying provocatively all the way
down the aisle. When you closed the door of the cubicle, I looked at the light above it to see
if you’d followed my instructions, it did not illuminate.

What was it like, waiting naked in that toilet cubicle? Knowing at any moment the door
would swing open, not knowing who it might be. Not knowing who would see you, standing
with your nose in the corner like a naughty little girl, ready to be spanked.

I let you wait for five minutes, rummaging in my bag but watching
the carriage for any hint
of movement, ready to leap from my seat and get in front of anyone who
came down the aisle with a lavatory visit on their mind. Then I strode
down the aisle and pulled the door
open. You flinched, but didn’t turn around.

I opened the door to an extraordinary and beautiful sight. You stood obediently in the
corner, your hands on your head, your dress and bra hanging up as I’d instructed. I stepped
inside, locking the door behind me.

I saw in the mirror you had your eyes closed. I wonder if you knew it was me – or whether
you were just hoping it was? Did the thought of being discovered naked by a stranger
excite you? I slipped my hand between your thighs, folding my fingers and cupping your
cunt. You were so wet, I’d never seen you so aroused. I left my hand against your slit for you
to slide on, whilst I planted kisses on the nape of your neck.

You got close, didn’t you? Until I withdrew my hand and smacked your arse.

Inside, space was tight, far too cramped for me to sit on the toilet seat and put you over my
knee. So you remained standing in the corner, your head on your hands, resting against the
wall as I spanked your bare bottom pink. I did wonder if the sound of the smacks would be
audible, or masked by the clunking and clattering of the train. Or if someone was now
standing outside, waiting, and bursting for a pee.

After I’d spanked you, I pushed the door ajar slightly, peering outside to see if anyone was
waiting. But the corridor was empty. So I locked the door again, and cupped your buttocks
with my hands, finding each firm globe hot to the touch. I pulled your cheeks apart,
examining the pink wrinkle of your bottom hole, and the dark patch of skin that surrounded
it. Beneath, your lips were swollen and conspicuously wet.

With my palms on your bottom, I kept your cheeks held apart, whilst my thumbs massaged
either side of your slit. You were very excited indeed, I could slide my thumb all the way into
your vagina without resistance.

You weren’t the only one excited, my own erection was now painfully imprisoned in my
trousers. So I undid my jeans and tugged them down, and sat on the toilet seat. You looked
at my cock hungrily. I dipped my fingers into my front pocket and produced the condom I’d
stowed whilst you’d been waiting for me.

“Yes!” you nodded enthusiastically.

I tore open the packet eagerly, rolling the sheath down my shaft without delay. Then you
straddled me, lowering yourself onto my cock until you were fully impaled and sitting on my
lap. I reached around to grasp your bottom, feeling the heat from your spanked cheeks radiating
back into my palms. We rocked in time with the motion of the train, the subtle sway of track
curves providing the most wonderful sensations.

As we fucked, we mischievously agreed that the first one to come would open the door
when we were ready to leave, and so be the first to step out and encounter whoever might
be patiently waiting.

That challenge seemed to motivate you, and you began to grind yourself on top of me with
renewed vigour, trying to make me come. I had the advantage though, able to reach behind
you and tickle your bottom hole, circling it, teasing you by explaining just what I was about
to do. You begged me not to, bucking up and down frantically, clenching my cock with your
tight little cunt. I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer, so I slipped my index finger into
your bottom hole, so hot and smooth and tight. The muscles of your entrance gripped my
finger like a vice, but you couldn’t help but push down deeper on it.

Moments later, we came together, muffling our delight against each other’s shoulders.

When did eventually emerge, dressed, cleansed and smiling, we stepped out hand in hand.
What the world thought of us, we no longer cared…