My Sexual History, Part 6: Romantic Encounters While Riding a Bus (1)

The previous stories were all about romantic encounters in guesthouses. Now I'll tell you a few more about romantic encounters I had while traveling by train. These days, high-speed rail is comfortable, but romantic encounters are practically impossible. Firstly, the journey is shorter, and secondly, there's no privacy. Back then, there were all kinds of sleeper berths, especially soft sleepers. Four people, and once the door was closed, it was a small world. Many things could happen inside, and many stories could occur.
Around 1997 or 1998, when I was traveling the most for work, my company was doing well, and someone like me, a middle manager, could afford soft sleeper berths. But that meant losing my travel allowance. I always traveled in soft sleeper berths, not for the comfort, but for the stories that could unfold in that small space. Of course, most of the time nothing happened, just a waste of money.
In 1997 and 1998, not many people traveled in soft sleeper berths. After I boarded in Chengdu, not a single person got on for over two hours. I was feeling a bit lonely when the train stopped at a small station, and some people boarded. I lay on my berth and heard the sound of high heels. I thought they must be coming to my carriage. As if on cue, footsteps stopped right there. The door opened, and the first thing I saw was her long, wavy, blonde hair. In those days, that was incredibly alluring. I quickly sat up and saw she was carrying a large travel bag. Instinctively, I stood up and helped her carry it, then asked, "Should we put this in?" She said, "Mmm." Her voice was so sweet and coquettish. I stole a glance; she shouldn't be that sweet. She wasn't young; at least ten years older than me.
She put her luggage down and sat down. Only then did I notice her ample figure. She was wearing a tight-fitting short skirt, and when she sat down, almost all of her white thighs were exposed, almost dazzlingly so. But her posture was beautiful; she kept her thighs together, so I couldn't see much.
She smiled at me and said, "Where to?" I told her my destination. She said, "Oh, same as mine." Hearing this, I thought to myself, "It's a whole night's journey. This is promising."
A little while later, the car started moving again. She took out food and drinks from her bag, but didn't eat or drink anything. Instead, she took out a book and started reading.
I thought, "She probably isn't going to talk to me." So I lay down on the bed, picked up a newspaper, and started reading.
After a while, my arm got tired holding the newspaper, so I turned to my side, facing her, so at least one arm could rest on the edge of the bed, making me more comfortable.
Suddenly, I realized that a beautiful sight was unfolding before my eyes. She was intently looking at the book in her hands, and her legs had slowly spread apart without me noticing. My God, what beautiful legs! I've always thought that people who wear short skirts must have very beautiful thighs. I was holding a newspaper, and there was a small table, common on trains, blocking my view. She couldn't see my eyes at all, so I could peek to my heart's content. The train swayed rhythmically, and I lay there with a complete view of what was under her short skirt. Occasionally, her legs would spread a little wider, and I could clearly see that she was wearing black silk panties underneath. It was one of those tiny panties that cinched the mons pubis into a small strip of thong. It was my favorite.
I was so engrossed in looking at it that I completely forgot the newspaper I was holding. Slowly, she seemed to sense something was wrong. I suddenly saw her slowly squeeze her thighs together again, and even press her hand down on top. Now I couldn't see inside at all. I knew she had discovered my secret. Strangely, I wasn't embarrassed at all. My groin just got even harder.
After a while, I adjusted my position and sat up. She looked up from her book and looked at me.
I looked back at her. Ah, what a fiery look that was! First, the smugness of having my secret discovered; second, the questioning of whether I was shy or not; third, the smugness of whether I was pretty or not. And finally, there seemed to be a hint of excitement. I bravely cast my gaze back at her thighs. This time, she was embarrassed. After a while, she looked back at her book, but soon after, her thighs parted again. Although not as wide as before, it was enough to excite me again.
We arrived at another station, and new passengers boarded the train. She squeezed her thighs together again. But this time, no one entered our compartment. After the train started moving, I noticed her thighs were spread open again.
I lay down so I could see her more clearly from below. She moved her buttocks forward a little, her legs spread wide, completely open. I got a good look. Suddenly, I heard her say, "Is it pretty?"
I said, "Pretty."
She said, "Have you seen enough?"
I said, "No."
She said, "Even if you haven't, I won't let you see anymore."
I sat up and smiled at her.
She said, "You're so bold."
I said, "No."
She said, "How old are you?"
I told her my age. She said, "
You're so young, and already so lewd."
I said, "You're too fair-skinned, it's dazzling."
She said, "Do you like it?"
I said, "Yes. I like it."
Then she asked if I had a girlfriend. I told her I was already married. She said she didn't believe me. We chatted like that. It gradually got dark. After dinner, I brushed my teeth and washed my face. Back in the room. It was just the two of us; no other passengers came in. She sat on the bed, her legs stretched out. I sat on her bed, very close to her.
I said, "It's really beautiful. I love it the most." As I spoke, I prepared to touch her.
She said, "Bring me the blanket."
I quickly brought her the blanket from my side and covered her. Then I reached under the blanket and slowly touched her thigh. So soft, and cool, smooth. For someone almost forty, to have such tender thighs was truly rare.
Around nine o'clock, the train attendants in the corridor were already turning off the lights. I closed the room door, and when I came back to touch her, I touched her vulva directly. Oh, it was wet.
Her breathing suddenly became heavy. I slowly began to use my finger techniques, and her body slowly slid down, lying flat. I felt her legs stretching and her buttocks pushing upwards. At some point, she had an orgasm. Her hand also reached between my legs, haphazardly trying to grab something. Unfortunately, I was wearing long pants that day, so she could only grab my penis forcefully through them. I really wanted to take off my pants and fuck her, but we were on a train, and the door could be opened at any moment. I still didn't dare. Besides, I pinned my hopes on going to a hotel with her after we arrived at the station.
I touched her almost all night, and she came several times. Normally, who would have the patience for foreplay? In the early morning, I finally couldn't hold back anymore, took out my penis that had been hard all night, and she moved her buttocks to the edge of the bed. I half-squatted and inserted it into her. Because of the tension, and because this half-squatting position was really tiring, I only thrust for a short while before I ejaculated, directly inside her.
The next day, when we arrived at the station, we found two men waiting for her, one big and one small. The smaller one took her travel bag and called her "Mom." I knew I wouldn't have a chance to go to a hotel with her. I really regretted not getting her phone number. But back then, phones were all landlines, so it wouldn't be convenient to call even if I got it.

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My Sexual History, Part 6: Romantic Encounters While Riding a Bus (1)

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