Walking from the train my hand brushed against a woman’s leg. The sudden feel of her skin through the fabric of her thin skirt felt surprisingly wonderful and I realized that even though people are familiar to the touch of themselves during the day, even so familiar that any contact is cut out from everyday sensations, that people never touch each other, really feel each other, become aware of someone’s skin, unless it’s like this, by accident.
So, I had the feeling of soft thigh, of her legs together as she was walking. I could imagine how it would feel if I rubbed the cloth against her, exploring the softness. I turned around to apologize, and saw a small thin dark young woman who looked shy and embarrassed, someone who looked like they had never been touched before.
As I walked away, I thought about how I wanted to touch her. I would take her somewhere where we wouldn’t be disturbed. I’d want her to stand behind me, to one side, as one hand replayed the touch of her leg. My hand would move across her thighs, dipping into the gap, grazing over her mound lightly. I would start to gather up her long thin cotton skirt in my hand, so that it uncovers her legs, to rest the cloth on my wrist, leaving my hand to explore. My hand would slip between her legs, moving up, tracing a finger over her panties, following the elastic over her belly, feeling her quiver and begin to breathe faster. Her hands would be on my shoulders, holding me.
I take hold of the elastic and start to pull it down slowly. Only enough for me to cup her in my hand with a finger pointing down. I pause as I feel her hair on the palm of my hand, then move my finger down until it enters the beginning of her outer lips. Wiggling my finger slightly as it moves further down, I part her and reach down as far as I can go. I drag my finger up slowly, retracing its path.
I turn around and gently push her to lean against the wall. The skirt drops again and I gather it in my hands, letting it rest on my arms as I start to ease down her panties, slowly, so that I can see her emerge from white cotton. I pull them over her knees and she steps out of them. I kneel before her to hold her hips as I nuzzle my face in her pussy; her hands move to my hair. I breathe in deeply, moving my face, feeling her on my cheeks and nose. Then I let go of her to get her to shift her legs open for me, lifting one leg to rest over my shoulder. I lean forward, my breasts pressed against her, and lick the closed lips and hair between her legs. My fingers move to rub her gently, opening her, sliding up and down her, until she starts to move against my finger, whimpering. I pass her wetness from cunt to clit, leaning to take her clit into my mouth, sucking and nibbling, while a finger slides down the wetness, entering her, gently, lingeringly. I push my finger into her, as far as it will go, feeling her tight wetness then pull out. My finger slides in and out of her as my other hand strokes her legs, squeezes her cheeks, passes between her legs to meet my other hand. I take her lips in my mouth, draw them in, suck them, tasting her, while my finger moves faster in her. I feel her clench my finger as her hips move, so I slip in another finger slowly, ease it in, watching it disappear, then begin to slide them both in and out quickly. I nudge her open further with my nose and she has to hold onto me. I can feel the rising heat from her, as I tease her clit out with my tongue, then flick it with the same pace as my fingers. She begins to ride my fingers and mouth, small gasps escape her lips, then she stops as her body begins to tremble, my fingers still in her, as she flows into my mouth. I continue moving my fingers until the trembling stops then lick her wetness from her, to stand up, lift her blouse, pull away her bra to kiss her breast.
I walk away.