Dream Ticket

The story I am about to tell could only have taken place in Britain in the romantic days of rail travel. In those days there were still real trains hauled by steam locomotives. The only pantyhose were the so-called tights worn by women playing male roles in pantomime. Women normally wore fully-fashioned stockings and held them up with suspenders, which I discovered from reading pulp fiction were known as garters in America.

The day it all happened, I was just turned 18 years of age. All these years later, the erotic images in my mind of what happened on that day are as vivid as ever. I have to confess though that over the intervening years the whole affair has assumed an increasingly dreamlike quality.

Before that memorable day, my sexual experiences had been strictly limited. Like most youths, I had groped inside girls' blouses on the back row of the cinema on Saturday afternoons. Otherwise, my experience came from the pages of books. I had been an avid devotee of 'girlie' magazines and erotic literature since my early teens. That was when I first became aware of my growing sexuality and discovered the exquisite pleasures of masturbation. Photos of scantily clad girls in revealing lingerie acted as a starter button for my often nightly attempts to appease the hormone-fuelled throb between my legs. However, I'm digressing – on with my story.

It was the middle of the long summer vacation and I was killing time before starting medical school later in the year. I had been to visit a school friend who lived in a small town some miles from the city where I lived with my parents and my sister. He and I were going to medical school together.

On my way home I had caught the early evening local train that stopped at every station. It was one of those trains with carriages that were not interconnected, each being divided into separate compartments. These compartments ran the width of the carriage and had two rows of seating facing each other about four feet apart. There was no corridor, just a door at both sides of each compartment for boarding or alighting from the train. Once the train was in motion you were cocooned in a private world.

Taking advantage of the fact that we were both over 18, my friend and I had popped into a local pub for a couple of pints before I boarded the train. The train had been quite full but at the last station before the end of the journey, my compartment emptied and I was alone.

Maybe because of the beer or because it had been a hot day I was feeling a little drowsy. I moved to the seat by the window overlooking the platform. I knew from previous experience that this last leg of the journey took at least 30 minutes. Sometimes it took longer, especially if repairs were being made to the long tunnel just before the end of the line. I had already taken off my jacket because it was so warm. I loosened my tie and the top of my shirt and closed my eyes knowing that if I fell asleep I would not miss my stop.

Just as the guard's whistle blew and the train started to move I was startled out of my doze when the door into the compartment flew open. A flustered looking young woman wearing a dark lilac skirt with a short matching jacket and carrying a small case almost fell into the compartment. She collapsed onto the seat opposite in some disarray. Sitting up hurriedly, she pulled down the hem of her skirt but not before she'd given me a view of shapely nylon clad leg that gave me a sudden frisson of excitement in my crotch.

The new arrival appeared to be around thirty years of age. The most striking thing about her was her hair. It was medium length, lightly curled and a warm auburn colour with red highlights. Her green eyes were set in a classically lovely face. She had invitingly sensual lips made up with a glossy dark red lipstick and her complexion had that translucent quality that so often accompanies auburn hair. She was about 5 feet 4 inches tall with shapely breasts, a slim waist and nicely rounded hips. She was a real beauty with the kind of figure that, in the days before emaciated models took over the fashion scene, was not only much admired by men but also envied by women.

I could see she wore a white lace top with a modest high neckline under her jacket. She had on a small burgundy coloured hat that exactly matched her high-heel shoes. Her skirt was a tailored fit around her shapely hips and tapered to a knee-length hemline. It also had a discreet slit up the right side extending some six inches above the knee. I never figured out how women managed to wear such tight skirts but I was glad they did because it made them walk with short steps so that their derrières gyrated most provocatively.

To complete an altogether enticing picture, my new travelling companion was wearing shiny gunmetal grey nylons. They had darker grey seems and point heels and I found myself tingling to my fingertips with sex-fired excitement as my imagination conjured up a vision of dark stocking tops stretched taught and stark against creamy alabaster thighs.

As she recovered her composure and the train picked up speed, she removed her hat, remarking that it had been lovely day and what a warm evening it was. I nodded in agreement and offered to put her case on the rack above her seat. As I bent to pick up the case I became aware that she was wearing an exotic spicy perfume with overtones of what I have since discovered was sandalwood.

"Thank you," she said and then, "I see you've taken off your jacket. I'm so hot after my rush for the train I think I should do the same."

Without rising from her seat, she shrugged her jacket back off her shoulders. The tight fitting top that she wore tucked into her skirt was fashioned from a fine, open-patterned kind of lace. It did not appear that she was wearing much underneath except a small almost transparent brassière. Certainly, her shapely breasts were clearly visible jutting out firmly. Prominent rosebud pink nipples were encircled by surprisingly large coffee-and-cream areolae. Thrusting against her diaphanous bra, they showed provocatively through the lacy material of her top.

Believe me it was a seductive sight and. I felt myself stiffening inside my trousers. I hurriedly picked up a newspaper that I had bought earlier and tried to hide my excitement and the bulge in my trousers behind its pages. Apparently unaware of her effect on me my companion folded her jacket carefully and placed it by her side. I could not resist taking another look at her over the paper I was pretending to read only to see her looking at me.

"Perhaps this blouse is a little too revealing," she said, "but it's so cool I couldn't resist wearing it on such a hot day. What do you think?"

I managed to mutter something noncommittal like, "I think it's very nice," and again sought to hide my confusion behind my paper. She must have recognised my discomfiture and sought to put me at ease. "Have you been on the train long?" she asked.

"Just under an hour." I replied. "I've been to see a friend," and then somewhat proudly I added, "we're going to medical school in September."

"That's wonderful," she responded, "I used to be a nurse in a hospital until I married last year and moved down here. My husband is a surgeon and we live not far from the station where I nearly missed this train."

The only response I could think of was a banal, "Do you like it there?"

"Well, it's very beautiful where we live but it is rather remote. My husband is often away and I do get rather lonely," she said almost wistfully.

Then to my utter astonishment she added, "I find it very difficult to sleep when I'm alone. I go for long walks in the countryside to tire myself out. It keeps me from drinking too much and helps me to sleep when my husband is not in bed with me. Even then, I wake up early in the mornings feeling tense. It's like having an unquenchable thirst or an itch that I can't scratch."

She finished by saying, "That's why I'm on this train. When it's too warm for walking, I take a trip somewhere. Today I'm off to town for a couple of days shopping. I do find riding on trains relaxing and like today, I sometimes find a compartment with a nice travelling companion. It provides me with company. A little harmless escapism you know."

She must have thought she'd said too much or was embarrassing me again because she fell silent. Then before I could offer to help, she stood up, kicked off her shoes and hitched up her skirt to step up onto the seat to reach into the case I'd place on the rack. This gave me a close-up view of her shapely rounded bottom. It was clear that she was wearing as little under her tight skirt as she had on under her blouse. I could see the outline of a pair of tiny knickers that I imagined might be made of the same lacy material as her top. The outline of her suspenders was also clearly visible. She had even hitched up her skirt far enough for me to see an expanse of shiny nylon clad thigh and most of her stocking tops.

I felt the throb in my crotch and the return of the bulge in my trousers that had almost disappeared during our conversation. She stepped down calmly with a book in her hand. Replacing her shoes, she sat down again, this time with only a disappointingly decorous amount of knee showing. She must have decided she'd exhausted the conversational possibilities with me and opening her book she began to read.

The entertainment over, my erection subsided again. I closed my eyes and began to muse on the events of the day. I wondered if my companion was one of those women described in erotic magazines – highly sexed and with an insatiable sexual appetite. Maybe she was just what my friends and I called a prick tease, delighting in arousing any male in sight.

I must have slept and I don't know what woke me but as I looked over at my travelling companion with half closed eyes, I could see that she was still reading. She seemed totally engrossed and oblivious to the fact that she was not alone. I was enthralled to see that as she read she was gently stroking the tip of one breast with the fingertips of the hand not holding her book. The nipple had become so firm and erect that it was straining at the diaphanous fabric of her brassiere and was clearly visible as it thrust through an opening in the lace of her top. I continued to watch with fascination hardly daring to breathe in case I broke the spell.

After a moment or two, she turned a page in her book and shifting slightly in her seat crossed her right leg over the left. Of course, this caused the slit in the side of her skirt to part and her skirt to ride up. To my absolute delight, this time it rode up enough to reveal not only the top of her stocking but also a gleam of suspender clasp and a tantalising glimpse of bare thigh above. My arousal was total and I could feel thrill after thrill snatching at my swelling prick – but there were more delights to come.

As she continued to read, her right leg began to swing gently to the beat of the wheels on the track. As the train picked up speed little by little, the tempo increased and she rubbed at her nipple more and more insistently. She even began pinching it between her thumb and fingertips. As she did so I could see the tip of her tongue darting repeatedly between her teeth to moisten her parted lips. While all this was going on, I could feel my prick throbbing in unison with the insistent pounding of the train wheels and her swinging leg. Oral sex was a delight I was not to experience for some years but in my excitement, I imagined that tongue licking the sensitive end of my throbbing prick.

Again, the tempo quickened and she became increasingly agitated. Her movements became almost frenzied and her breathing became quick and shallow. Suddenly she closed her eyes and gave a deep sigh followed by what sounded like a little gasp of pleasure. As she held her closed book on her knee, she reached down with the other hand to grasp herself between the tops of her legs. She seemed to be seized by spasms that required her to squeeze hard between her legs. Then she relaxed emitting what sounded like a sigh of relief.

In some consternation, I wondered if she were ill but after a moment or two she opened her eyes. She looked across at me almost as if waking from a dream in a strange room.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I thought you were asleep." and looking embarrassed, "Have you been awake for long?"

"Not really," I lied, "but you cried out a few moments ago and I thought you might not be feeling too well."

She'd said some odd things during our journey but stranger revelations were to come as she gave a little laugh saying, "No, I was just indulging in a little fantasy. It's not only you fellows who can indulge in sexual self-arousal. I told you I take train journeys because I miss my husband's company. I usually have a few drinks before I leave home to relax me. A little sexy reading matter arouses me and then as I stroke myself I begin to feel excited. When I'm in this mood, anything touching my nipples gives me a buzz of excitement between my legs. That's one of the reasons why I wear thin bras and tight blouses. By crossing my legs, I can squeeze my tight knickers into myself. With the vibration and rhythm of the train I can bring myself to such a state that I can discharge all my pent-up excitement."

I've often reflected since what delightfully delicate way this was to describe masturbation and orgasm but at the time all I could say was, "Oh?"

"There, I've embarrassed you again," she said, "but I felt somehow I could talk to you. Never mind you won't have to put up with me for much longer. We'll soon be at the end of our journey."

Just as she said that, the train slowed to a halt. We were well into the last tunnel and in pitch darkness. "What fun," said my companion surprisingly, "I was on this train a few days ago and we stopped like this for almost half an hour."

After a short silence, I felt her stand up. I heard the rustle of clothing and that unmistakable soft sexy susurration that only women wearing stockings make as they brush one nylon-clad thigh against the other. Suddenly I could smell her perfume more strongly and I realised she had seated herself beside me. She moved closer and I could feel the warmth of her body pressing against me. "Put your arm around me," she pleaded softly.

I put one arm around her shoulder. She wriggled against me and made a little sound of pleasure. She then took hold of my free hand to guide it down towards her lap. I was startled to feel the taught smooth nylon of her stockings and realised that her skirt was well above mid thigh.

"Feel me a little higher," she murmured and guided my eager hand onto what I took to be the smooth flesh of her thighs above her stockings. I could feel her suspenders as she guided me ever higher between her parted legs. Then my hand was on her soft silky smooth mound with its moist, slightly parted lips and I realised that the rustle of clothing I had heard earlier was the sound of her removing her knickers.

I fondled her and she trembled a little and murmured, "Does that feel nice? I shave down there like most women do under their arms. It adds to the thrill I can give myself when I cross my legs and rub myself against my knickers. It's sexy isn't it?"

She gave a little giggle of pleasure and then, "This is really good. I thought you'd have gentle hands. Now see if you can push your finger inside. I'm so excited and wet, I think you'll be able to push at least two fingers up my cunt." Surely enough my index and first finger slipped easily inside her opening, slick with her excitement. "Mmm, now try stroking me with your thumb just inside the top of my slit."

I did as she asked, which produced another little squeal of delight. I felt her reach down to my lap and begin feverishly unfastening the front of my trousers. Releasing my raging erection, she grasped it almost as if in desperation. "My!" she exclaimed, "This is quite something," and began to slide her hand up and down its length. She pulled back my foreskin to expose my knob that was by then also slick from my own excitement. Squeezing near the top of my shaft gently with one hand, she began to make little circular movements on my knob with the forefinger of the other. The feeling was indescribable.

As she continued to stroke me, she began to move herself backwards and forwards, arching her back to press herself repeatedly against my fingers that were by then deep inside her. With each press, she emitted a little sound of pleasure. She became increasingly frenzied and so did I. I could hear her crooning softly to herself, "Come to me baby, come to me, come," over and over. Suddenly I did exactly that. I could contain myself no longer and with a cry, I experienced the most explosive ejaculation. Almost immediately, she cried out too, giving one last push against my fingers.

"Thank you," she gasped, "you can't imagine how much I've wanted that ever since I got on the train and found you in the compartment. I hope you enjoyed it."

"It was the most wonderful thing I've ever experienced," I replied with some conviction. She pulled away from me and I presumed she was rearranging her clothing. I fumbled to rearrange myself too then I lay back with my eyes closed and relaxed.

A sudden jerk brought me bolt upright with my eyes wide open. I was startled to find that we were stopped in the station in full daylight with the door onto the platform wide open. Of my beautiful travelling companion there was no sign, other than a pair of delicate lace knickers lying on the seat opposite. I picked them up to feel they were slightly damp and I caught the faint perfume of sandalwood.

Was it all just a dream? If it was it was a very wet one. Despite the heat, that evening I had to travel back home wearing my raincoat to hide a large wet patch on the front of my trousers. I still have those white lace knickers folded secretly away and still redolent of an exotic perfume. From time to time when I'm alone, I take them out to look at them and relive in my mind's eye the events of that amazing journey all those years ago. It brings back memories of my youth and the days when beautiful women wore suspenders to hold up their stockings. Days when they would sometimes let you not just enjoy a glimpse of them but actually touch them.