As we warm up our cars parked side-by-side in the two-car driveway, I mouth, “I love you.”
She nods and smiles before backing out first. I follow suit. Spring break is only a week away. Luckily Gwen and I will both be extremely busy at work.
Once on the plane headed to Heathrow Gwen is more openly affectionate than usual, and I’m overexcited to get our party started. Fleeting thoughts about my plan to make love on a moving train rev up my anxiety levels more than a tad. Gwen lays on her doubts about us actually doing this pretty thick and I don’t know if it is to goad me on or dispel her own trepidations. It doesn’t matter because we have two weeks to just love each other up.
The weather on the day we planned to take the historic steam engine trip is in our favor. We stuff cheese sandwiches, powdered donuts and a small bottle of champagne in my backpack along with lube. I nix the vibrator idea saying it will be too noisy even in a hopefully vacated restroom. Not that I think the train will be empty, but much to our surprise the platform is teaming with people of all ages.
We join those gathered at the station and thrum with equal excitement. While waiting for the journey to begin, an enthusiastic volunteer tells us the route we’re taking is one of Britain's oldest heritage steam railways.
After we manage to walk away from the enthusiastic volunteer without appearing rude, I whisper, “I’m so freaking horny I could hump a lamppost right now.”
“I hear you,” Gwen sighs. “We have to figure out a way to do it on board despite the crowd. You claimed you wouldn’t chicken out. Am I right?”
“Not on your life.”
A group of rugged women glance in our direction. I nudge Gwen’s shoulder and point my chin in their general direction. “You think they’re—”
“Lesbians?”
“Shhh, not so loud,” I warn.
“What do you think?”
“Definitely, but I’m afraid they’ll know what we’re up to if we head to the toilet together.”
“So what?”
“So, it’ll be embarrassing.”
“We could invite them to join in,” Gwen says, although I know damn well she’d never share. I swat her just the same and she pulls me in for a hug and a kiss on the forehead. A sandy-haired woman quirks her eyebrow seconds before leaning in to share some secret with her dark-haired partner.
I begin to sweat. “Please let’s not be in their car, please.”
“Don’t be a spoil sport. If they are it’ll just pump up the steam in our little tryst.”
“Nothing fazes you,” I say.
“Nope. Are we placing bets on this? I say the winner gets a special day complete with soup to nuts.”
“And for my treat I want a full-body massage, home-cooked meal and the movie of my choice.”
“You drive a hard bargain, but I’m not worried because you’ll be the one treating me special.” Gwen has an alluring smirk I can’t resist, but I dare not divulge this tidbit at risk of giving her more reason to gloat.
By now more than a few members of the hiking group glance our way. I overhear the attractive member with the sandy hair say something about an overnight hiking trip from Hay Tor to Hound Tor and how they could do with a few new recruits for their end-of-the-year trip.
“Safety in numbers,” she says, loud enough for us to hear. Her partner looks in our direction as well. Gwen shoots her a look of butch solidarity.
“You’re encouraging her,” I complain.
“Down girl,” she warns with a particular gleam in her eye.
“They’re boarding. Let’s go.”
“I’d rather come.”
“Behave,” I warn.
“You started it.”
“Sure did. Let’s sit in the last row so we can make out.”
We get on first and it figures! The women pile in right after us, leaving more than a few extra seats for other passengers. They’re a boisterous bunch. To be honest, it’s nice to be in the majority for a change.
My senses zeroed in on Gwen between catching a few facts pouring out from the speakers. “…final passenger figures for 2011 show 112,400 adults and children rode on the scenic seven-mile line from…” I wiggle my tush closer to my girl’s hips and link my arm around hers, resting my head on her shoulder while we listen to the announcer with half an ear.
“According to South Devon Railway Trust’s general manager Dick Wood says… ‘We feel very proud of achieving our best-ever results…Our success has been achieved by not only broadening the nostalgic appeal to people of all ages but also by providing better visitor facilities and investing in our future …This year marks the 140th anniversary…’”
The mere fact of sitting close to Gwen, her scent delectably wafting my way, in a classic engine of historical significance, has my clit a twitter. Here I am bouncing around on a locomotive. It was like I was trailing my own swirl of steam if my desire was visible to the naked eye. Add wearing tight jeans to tease Gwen to no end and it was sheer wonder I didn’t have multiple orgasms from all the potent stimulation.
I barely catch the tail end of the conductor’s lecture because I am hyper-focused on my hankering need. Forcing myself to concentrate I manage to process a few parts of the announcement. “This year the South Devon Railway is celebrating its twentieth anniversary.” We join in on the round of applause that erupts, using the opportunity for a few juicy kisses. The racket drowns out any sounds of smacking lips. When I look up I discover we have an audience of two: the sandy-haired gal and her butch. I’m beyond caring at this point.
"The economic outlook may be gloomy for some — but not for us," continues the commentator.
I cup Gwen’s breast over her shirt. Someone gasps, but I can’t tell who. We keep this up for the entire commentary. I have my girl right where I want her, in my arms, under my tongue and beneath my hands. Only getting naked will surpass how exhilarated we both feel.
The thrum of the wheels, didun, didun, picks up speed in a delightful, stimulating rhythm. I cast my gaze in the general direction of the randy bunch in front of us. A few have turned around in their seats, and the two aforementioned women pose to converse freely with others, or possibly to sneak a glance at Gwen and me. They literally keep us hidden from view of the het observers in a kind of unspoken code. This only serves to make me bold and Gwen more insistent we meander over to the loo, to use the lingo, with haste. It isn’t easy, but I hold her off for a while.
“I’m getting hungry,” Gwen says.
“Let’s eat.” I get up to retrieve our insulated bag from the shelf above.
“Not for food, but I could eat,” Gwen adds. I return her wink.
“You’re always hungry,” I comment, with a wink of my own.
Gwen pulls me down into her lap. I only move over so that we can divvy up the food.
We polish off the champagne and sandwiches while the women decide they need to eat too. Leave it to lesbians to use every opportunity for a shared meal. We start comingling with the walking group and commit to joining them on their Hay Tor hike before our vacation ends.
After the champagne, I have this urgent need to take a leak, which signals Gwen to escort me. Feet and bodies previously blocking the aisle automatically move to allow access but I’m a bit tipsy and trip over my own feet.
“Watch your step,” Gwen says.
“Too late,” I laugh as I lurch forward, unperturbed.
“Careful Sweetie.”
“Yes dearest, honeybunch, sugar pie, gallant one...” I could go on, but decide to spare her.
Gwen opens the door to the loo and steps aside, but not before she rolls her eyes at my multitude of corny endearments. I venture in first. It’s cramped, but we manage just fine.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask Gwen, as if I didn’t know.
She vigorously nods consent. “Are you?”
In answer, I yank down my slacks and panties. I’m actually turned on more than I expected, still unable to believe I’m going to have sex on
a public railway. I spend the better part of a minute clumsily kicking off one boot to get at least one leg free of my denims. She doesn’t complain when I accidently kick her in the shin in the process, instead she moves in on me. We are pressed up against each other from the start. Her body ablaze, she fervently nips at my face, neck and beyond. She pushes up my t-shirt for access to my tits, braless and unencumbered, hesitating only to take what she wants at the vee between my thighs.
After Gwen discovers that I have shaved my pubes too, I’m rewarded by her guttural sounds of appreciation and tons more kisses. I go crazy from the feel of her fingers working my need that literally protrudes past the usual point of my slick labial folds. I want to just let Gwen do her magic, only I don’t want to come on contact. To my surprise, it isn’t alcohol that releases my inhibitions. I project about having multiple orgasms at the top of Hay Tor and giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
“Me.” I chuck my shirt. “Enjoying this.”
Gwen places tiny bites on my nipples and plunges inside my pussy. I don’t stifle the cries of pleasure, no longer worrying about being heard and having what we’re doing exposed beyond the confines of the tiny room. Instead, I fear I’m so close I’ll spontaneously burst into flame any second anyhow.
“Hold on,” Gwen purrs. She knows me better than I know myself.
“I’m trying,” I say, with zero conviction.
“Try harder.”
“I can’t,” I whimper, my orgasm desperately imminent.
She pinches my nipple fast and hard as a warning to wait, the pain radiating from my nip to my clit, which only makes it harder to concentrate on not coming. I am dying to, but Gwen calls the shots and I’ll do my damndest to hold out as long as I can. At this rate, I dare not question my luck or tempt fate because I have one mission in mind and my wish is about to come true.
With the rhythm of the steam engine and the sound of the whistle, we fuck to our heart’s content, murmuring, sighing, panting and shuddering in a climactic duet. If not for pulling into the first station, we could have luxuriated in orgasmic bliss for a very long time, but there is no time to waste getting dressed and barely presentable.
“I could use a cigarette,” I say, laughing since I’d quit smoking years before.
“I could use an encore,” Gwen replies.
“You got it, maybe before the next stop.”
“You don’t say?” Gwen grins. “We’d better go.”
“Wait a sec.” I fix her hair first and then smooth the front of her shirt, palming her breasts, which cause her nipples to pucker anew.
“Unless you want to camp out in here longer, I suggest you be careful there.” She tucks in her shirt and kisses me quickly before I lean in to use the mirror.
“You look perfect,” Gwen says. She then holds the door for me to exit first. The moment I step out, my face flames ten shades of red. The hiking gals have obviously barricaded the bathroom door possibly during the whole time Gwen and I were having our morning delight. I turn back to peek at Gwen who nods her thanks to our compadres. Then in an uncharacteristic public display of affection, Gwen lifts me up Pretty Woman style. I fling my arms around her neck and she places a romantic kiss on my lips in front of everyone. This totally blows me away, but the most memorable part of it all is when she announces, “I love you.”
I’m so excited I almost miss when she adds, “Always have, always will.”
The joyful shouts along with my tears of joy make her words more precious than anything.
“By the way, you won the bet,” Gwen says, “and I intend to spoil you rotten every day for the rest of your life.”
“You already do.” Tears continue to stream down my face.
“Marry me.”
I can barely breathe, but finally, I answer, “Yes.”
The End.
About the Author
Cheri Crystal was born and raised in New York with hopes of joining her wife in the UK ASAP. She began writing lesbian fiction in 2003 after reviewing LGBT fiction for Lambda Book Report, Just About Write, Independent Gay Writer and other e-zines. Cheri is the author of Attractions of the Heart, a 2010 Golden Crown Literary Winner for erotic lesbian love stories. In her spare time, she enjoys swimming, hiking, viewing wildlife, cooking, jigsaw puzzles and spending quality time with family and friends. Visit www.chericrystal.com for what’s new.
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