The Girl in the Red Coat

After a late night shift, Alex takes the last north bound train home. He happens to sit opposite to Nathalie, back from her own night shift of sorts.

Alex

It’s past midnight; the rain is pouring down; the last north bound commuter train creeps through the shunting yards somewhere just north of Stockholm Central. The number of drunken people, staggering about, are at its peak. They are screaming to each others while trying to have a conversation.

Alex stares out the window, somewhere in the twilight between being in a dull trance and starting to fall asleep for real. In a contrary to all the other people on the train, he hasn’t been out drinking and partying, he’s actually had an all-nighter trying to complete his latest project. As things stood then, he would have to get back in the morning.

He feels cold, controlled satisfaction. At least he will get a fat bonus for doing the extra hours. Sadly enough nothing extra for doing them in the middle of the night, he doesn’t have penalty rates for night work. He gets angry again. If it had been his fault the project required this many extra hours in the middle of the night…

His line of thought is broken when someone sits opposite to him. At first he only notices something red before his mind returns to the unfairness of him working on a Friday night, but when a foot is lodged between his leg and the wall he looks up.

She is blond, has clear green eyes, a face somewhere between pretty and gorgeous, and she is wearing a red coat and pantyhose. Alex sighs inwardly. She is forcing him to place his feet and legs at an awkward angle. Her legs are crossed and the foot of the top leg are extended well past the line-in-the-middle.

Alex hates having his private space invaded by knees, elbows or feet, but he decides to keep his cool. He glances at her again. She is probably more gorgeous than just pretty. Her skin has a few blemishes that takes away from her beauty but part from that she’s a hottie.

He decides to turn on the mp3-player on his mobile. The noise level in the train is reaching levels where he can’t even hear himself think. As he fiddles with the mobile he notices the girl’s chest is heaving quickly in and out. She is not taking deep breaths, but she is breathing quickly, almost panting. He looks up again. Did her eyes dart away from him? Probably not.

He puts the earplugs in place and starts the player, shutting the noise out. He sighs and reaches into his bag, hesitating between an old copy of Times Magazine and Digital Photography Magazine. He decides to have a look at the latter.

He starts reading an article about composing sunset pictures. His hips and knees are aching from the awkward position his legs are forced into. He looks down and notices just how far into his zone her foot is and he decides to put his foot down almost where he’d want it, centimeters from trapping her foot against the side of the train car.

He manages to read another paragraph when her foot moves. He looks up and she smiles at him with an apologetic expression on her face. He removes the earplugs.

“Sorry,” she says.

“No problem.”

But her foot remains. His mind is actually reeling at the audacity of this damned woman. He sighs and puts the earplugs back. Just as he is about to start on the article again his eyes fall beyond the magazine page and he realizes he cannot spot anything but her red coat and pantyhose. No skirt.

For a moment he has the wild idea that she is naked under the coat. Or, he thinks, the pantyhose … perhaps it’s thigh-high stockings … held up by a garter and garter belt. He feels himself getting hard, a tingling sensation spreading through his body. And maybe a black lace bra too … but no panties.

He has to readjust his clothing or his hard-on will show. He tells himself she probably has something under the coat, and keeps reading. Soon his member has gone soft again.

Just as he thinks he’s safe her foot caress against his leg. This time it is an obvious caress. He decides to play it cool and removes his earplugs once more.

“What?”

“Don’t you hate these endless train trips?” she says, as if they had been on speaking terms the whole night.

He nods. “Uh, yeah.” Not sure what to say, or actually void of any meaningful line of conversation, he’s never had a girl, at least not one this sexy, speak to him on the train before.

“And you can’t smoke either,” she says.

He nods, but since he’s no smoker he has little to offer on that subject as well.

“Not that anyone would care, this train is deserted after Rotebro anyway.”

Rotebro is the halfway point between Stockholm and Märsta; even though it’s only two stops between Rotebro and Märsta, half the trip is spent on that distance.

“Yeah, it gets pretty deserted,” Alex says, “at least this late.”

She nods.

The conversation dies out. Or at least Alex thinks it has. He shrugs, repeating the mantra he always use when things don’t go his way; “You do as best as you can.”

He keeps reading the magazine, still in the awkward position, waiting for, hoping for her to leave. That is, until he remembers her talk about the deserted train after Rotebro. He moans inwardly, she will be on the train for most of the trip. He sighs. So what? She’s hot, and her foot is almost against his calf. If she would move it some 30-40 centimeters up and forwards she would have it placed against his crotch. He shivers and his cock starts getting hard again.

After a few deep breaths and the earplugs back in his ears, he calms down. Just as he has gotten into the magazine again her foot moves. He removes the earplugs, this time slightly annoyed.

She leans close to him. Whispering. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Uh? What?”

She looks around. They have just passed Sollentuna, so the train is only half full, but what she does next is still a crazy bold move. She starts unbuttoning the coat at the neck, revealing a slender neck and a slightly bony chest. Once she unbuttons the third of the five buttons Alex can clearly see her full bust is held in place by nothing else than its own firmness. She has no T-shirt, blouse or bra.

His cock turns fully erect, but he hardly notices. Is she is naked under the coat? Fuck! She is almost flashing him.

She leans forward, her breasts threatening to spill out of the opening of the coat. “I get so fucking bored on these trips,” she says.

“Uh!” he says, unable to form a single coherent thought.

She leans back, buttoning the coat back up, a Cheshire Cat grin on her lips. He drops his eyes. He intends to break the almost physical eye contact with her but when his eyes lock on the dark opening where the top of her thighs disappear under her coat she drops her hands to the hem of the coat and lifts it, offering him a clear line of sight all the way to her crotch. The short moment the glance lasts Alex is able to determine that she is, unfortunately, wearing pantyhose and not high stockings with garters.

She smiles. The train leaves Norrviken, the last stop before Rotebro. He looks around. There’s only about ten or so people left in the car. Will everyone leave at Rotebro? His cock regains its hardness just by the thought. He licks his lips.

“I need some excitement before I start banging my head to the wall,” she says.

He looks around once more. She grins.

“I see,” he says. His voice is so steady it feels like someone else has spoken instead of him.

She scoots down on the seat, this time firmly lodging her leg between his leg and the car wall. She leans closer to him, takes his hands and places them on her thighs. The warm, smooth sensation makes his body hum with itching energy.

She leans even closer to him and for a moment he thinks she might kiss him, but she presses her lips to his ear instead: “slide your hands as high up as you dare…”

He digs his fingers into her thighs, almost wanting to pull her to him, or push his hands all the way up, but he controls himself.

The train stops in Rotebro and everybody but a couple leaves their car. The girl sighs and looks at Alex who licks his lips again.

She leans into the middle aisle peering along it through the door to the other car connected with this one. As she does she points her ass at him, revealing she is panty-less. He can clearly see the round swell of her sex through the sheer fabric of the pantyhose and before he stops and thinks he reaches out and caresses one of her buttocks.

She snaps around staring at him, a smile slowly forming. She straddles him, one knee at each side of his lap. “Perhaps…” she says, unbuttoning her coat at the bottom, leaving two buttons at the top. “Perhaps this could get really exciting.”

She grinds into him, jolts of pleasure emanating from the point of contact. He is spellbound by the touch of her body, his hands almost action at their own volition as he squeezes her butt, slides his palms around to her front, strokes her firm belly until he can cup a breast in each hand. She shudders visibly, her gaze, behind heavy eyelids, locked into his.

He glances at the couple who are sitting face to face, holding hands, lovingly pecking at each other’s lips.

“I need some fun,” she says and starts working on his fly.

“Shit,” he gasps, as she pulls his shaft free from his clothes. “Someone can see!”

“Then,” she says, struggling to her feet, squatting over him, “let’s make sure we hide him properly.”

“What are you doing?” he says when she starts pushing her pantyhose down.

“Hush!”

“They’re gonna… !”

Once she has the pantyhose by the hollow of her knees she presses herself against him, and regardless of what he was about to say, he hitches his hips up towards her, their sexes meshing together in a way that neither can resist.

“Fuck it,” she groans.

“This is bad,” he says, with little conviction.

She grinds into him, her wet slit sliding along the back of his cock, caressing him, kissing him. He groans. Fortunately the sound is drowned by the noise from the train.

Her body is shivering from the exertion of not moving. If she does the couple in the other end of the car will understand what is going on. He holds her by her hips.

“I got to have you in me,” she breathes into his ear.

“Oh God!” he moans again, glancing at the couple. They are still talking and kissing, seemingly oblivious to the other two people in the car.

“They’re still there,” he says.

“They won’t see,” she says, lifting her hips, grabbing his shaft, and poking the head around in her slit.

The couple suddenly looks at them suspiciously. Alex wants to cry when the girl on top of him sinks down again, his cock still lodged between her sex and his stomach.

“Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea after all?” she says.

He groans and grabs her buttocks, pulling her to him, raising his hips and meshing the underside of his cock into her lubricated slit.

His burning member caresses right on top of her clit. She grinds back. The couple gives them disapproving glances, now clearly suspecting something is up.

Alex keeps grinding into her. It would be so easy to pull her up, grab his shaft and push it into her. She stares down at him, eyes wide, lips trembling. If they had not been a hair from fucking he might have thought she was terrified. Perhaps she still is. He glances at the couple again, but the backrest of the seat is between them and what they are doing, or at least he hopes so.

“Next stop, Upplands-Väsby,” the automated announcer says over the trains speaker system.

Alex checks the couple again. They are standing only a few meters away from them by the doors, waiting for the train to stop.

He grabs her harder, pulling her down to him, while pushing up. He can feel her oozing opening pressing against his shaft, even hotter than the rest of her sex.

She unbuttons the last two buttons in her red coat and it slides open exposing her completely. She grins at the couple lecherously while grinding at Alex. Even though she moves slowly, even cautiously, her grin tells them more than they want to know. Once the train stops they hurry out of the car.

“Please,” Alex says as the couple walks by outside the window, their view unobstructed.

“I want you to throw me down and fuck me!” she hisses.

“Fuck!” he says, but just as he is about to grab her harder in order to lift her someone walks by outside the window.

“Don’t stop,” she says, pulling away from him. She stands in front of him, her body revealed through the opening in the coat; the firm swell of her breasts, her trim belly, and the widening round of her hips, but what he sees is the ash-blond triangle of pubes in level with his eyes. He reaches out and grabs her by her hips, pulling her to him.

“Wanna eat me?” she says, looking down at him, “you know we wont have time for both?”

He pulls back, desire making itself known. She smiles and sits on the edge of the opposite seat, opening her coat, neatly draping it over the seat, revealing all her charms fully. He grabs his cock, jacking slowly. She bites her lower lip, pulling both her legs up until her knees are resting against her chest just under her chin, and the pale, smooth rounds of her thighs are guiding his eyes to the puckered lips of her pussy.

“Oh shit!” he says.

“Come here,” she says.

He gets up and stands over her, leaning on the back rest with one hand, holding his cock with the other, he slides the tip through her wet folds. She reaches down to assist him and he is soon aligned correctly.

He pushes.

They gasp.

She clamps down on him, a tight firm squeeze, almost keeping him from moving at all. It feels like steel covered with velvet and silk, and while he sinks into her he is unable to do anything but pushing deeper.

He moves his hips, pulling back out of her. Pushing back in. He buries to the root again. Her explosive pressure ripples on his cock. She gasps hoarsely. “Oh fuck!” she says, her voice dark and hissing. She twitches when he pushes into her again. “Push as deep as you can go!” she says, placing her legs against his chest on each side of his head. “I love your cock! Oh God!”

The seat is too high for him to kneel on the floor, and too low for him to stand, so he supports his whole weight on his arms. Keeping his crotch in perfect alignment with hers is straining so he starts pounding away at her with all intentions to make it come before he tires.

“Don’t go to fast,” she says, “just give me a minute.”

He stops, holding back long enough to regain his control, effectively putting a lock on his mounting orgasm. When he continues her squeezing embrace along his length is far less enticing, yet just within his control.

“That’s it,” she says, “fuck me … good!”

“God you’re tight,” he says, speeding up.

The higher pace makes wet sounds coming from her pussy. She sobs and grabs his buttocks. “That’s it … I’m soon…”

“Oh fuck!” he says increasing the speed even more.

“Soon! Soon!”

He stops, desperately trying to regain his control.

“Next stop, Rosersberg,” the voice says over the speakers.

The fear of someone catching them takes the sharpest edge of his pleasure, that and her fingernails digging into his flesh. He starts moving again. They don’t have much time before the train reaches its destination.

“Oh fuck!” she moans, “just fuck me! I wanna feel you come in me!”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he says, teeth clenched as he keeps pumping into her faster and harder.

She drops her legs from his shoulders, reaching up for him, pulling him down. He aims for her lips but she turns her head. He stops. Resting above her, towering. Their gazes meet. Searching. Pleading. Coercing. Their bodies interlocked. Buried deep. Fingers digging into buttocks. Breathing shallow.

She turns facing him. A low groan escaping her as she raises her head, closes her eyes and parts her lips. He leans into her even more. Pressing his lips against hers.

She wraps her legs and arms wrap around him, pulling him deep into her. He speeds up. Breathing noisily through his nose. She whines, deep in her throat, nails scratching skin, juices gushing, making a loud wet slurp as he shoves into her.

She bucks in orgasmic cramp. Her head is thrown back. Her mouth opens, an unending stream of short, shrill screams passing her lips. All the while she keeps grinding her crotch into him.

He stares at her display of furious ecstasy; her hips pounding into him fast and hard; she utters a feral groan, deep in her throat. He grabs her buttocks to support her and as he does she wraps her legs around his waist and pulls herself up until she is straddling him.

He staggers backwards until they land on the opposite seat. She squats over him, grinding into him in short, stabbing moves, almost like a belly dancer at her fastest. She exhales in a shivering whine, her hips going from furiously fast stabs to long sinuous movements. This time he can clearly feel her cramping on him. She gasps. Rolls her hips into him, then gasps again, and again, almost as if she’s about to sneeze, then she throws her head back and wails while humping him frantically.

Natalie

She knows she should control the flood of emotions threatening to drown her. She should put an end to this insanity before it goes too far, but he is already leaning over her, and when she feels him poking at her sex, burning hot she reaches down and helps him.

He pushes. His thick shaft fills her completely, forces a gasp out of her, and she feels herself getting even wetter.

“Oh fuck!” he says, staring at her in awe as he sinks deeper, finally meshing their pubes together. “Shit! I love your tight pussy!”

She is in total control. The feeling of power is almost as erotic as the building pressure of his cock inside her.

He is really big. The intense pressure tickles nerve endings she did not even knew she had and when he starts moving the sensation increases until she groans with pleasure. She pulls her legs back until she can rest them against his shoulder and the deeper penetration makes her head spin and a stream of obscenities leave her mouth.

He grunts and starts pounding into her with abandon, leaning on the seat and thrusting back and forth as fast as he can go. She can read the onset of orgasm in his eyes and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t go to fast,” she says, “just give me a minute.”

He stops, and for a moment she fears he will pull away from her, so she reaches down to his butt and pulls him closer. When he smiles at her she clenches her abdomen muscles, turning his expression into a blank mask of sexual desire.

He starts moving again, this time with more control. He towers over her, determination written allover his face. She realizes he is set on making her come, and his commanding presence makes a sudden flood of pleasure well up in her.

“That’s it,” she says, “Fuck me! Oh God!”

He groans and increases the speed, his body slapping into hers sending waves of pleasure through her with each impact. His cock makes wet sounds as it slides in and out of her. She assists him, digging her fingers into his firm buttocks, pulling him to her with each thrust, urging him on.

“That’s it!” she says, close but just not there yet, “I’m … I’m … Soon! Soon!”

He increases the speed even more and she helps him. He leans over her, a drop of sweat hitting her cheek as he pants, “Oh fuck!”

“Soon! Soon!” she says, repeating the mantra over and over, but it has little meaning anymore, if he comes she will explode with him. She is so close her body is tingling.

He stops.

She wants to scream.

“Next stop, Rosersberg,” the voice says over the speakers.

She feels a stab of fear driven into her guts like a knife. What if someone sees them? What if they see her and wants to fuck her? What if they film them and puts it up on Internet? She is feeling both fear and lust. Both competing successfully for power, none victorious.

Time is running out, and the threat of having to leave the train unsatisfied, combined with the lust and fear of being caught drives her insane.

She moans. “Oh fuck! Just fuck me!” She pulls him hard to her, rejoicing in the throbbing fill but craving more. “I wanna feel you come in me!”

He leans into her and starts pumping again. His face a mask of resolute determination, even anger, conjuring up a corresponding mix of submission and anger in her. She wants him to slap her. She wants to slap him. “Fuck me,” she says, almost growling. “Harder!”

“I’m gonna fuck you!”

She pushes her legs off his shoulders, places them firmly on the floor and pushes her hips into the air, rolling them back up at him.

He towers over her. Hands placed on each side of her head, locking her in. He stares down at her, the effect of their coupling evident in his face. His clutch on the backrest has caught some of her hairs and her pleasure increases as they are ripped free from her scull. He suddenly bends down to her, lips slightly parted, eyes half-closed. He intends to kiss her!

She turns her cheek, effectively avoiding his advance. She wants to scream to him to just fuck her, come in her and do it now. They are fucking on a public commuter train, two total strangers! And he wants to kiss her?

He slows down, leans on one hand and pushes her jaw with the other until she looks up at him again. His gaze drills into her eyes. Even deeper. His dark eyes burning a hole in her, breaking through her shell with dangerous speed, almost reaching all the way in. He is already in her, throbbing thick, hot.

She surrenders.

Their lips mesh together, tongues caressing. He starts moving again, setting off a chain reaction in her body as sensations flow from her lips to her crotch and back again. She whines as the first orgasm hits her with paralyzing force, and soon after she loses touch with everything but her own body, and the hard throbbing meat pressed against her body, between her legs, inside of her.

They break the kiss and she screams out her pleasure disregarding anything or anyone but herself and the sensations rushing through her body. She wraps her legs and arms around him, not missing a stroke as he stands and falls back on the opposite seat.

She feels the pleasure building again, this time so sharp, so fragile, every little move has to be precise, and she slows down, almost comes to a halt. His hands are resting on her hips, guiding her. He seems to appreciate the slower pace as well. His hold on her is firm, forcing her to roll into him, once, twice. She gasps. The pleasure increases. She gasps again, and again. He tries to slow her, hold her steady, but the urge is to strong. She screams and humps him, a few quick thrusts before the paralysis grasps her. He pushes up at her, sending wave after wave of ecstasy through her, making her scream.

She looks down at him, reading a mix of pain and pleasure in his eyes, and when another shudder passes through her and she cramps on him again both emotions deepen. The pleasure wells up in her. Just feeling him in her makes it boil over and she screams. Stops. It is too strong. She breaths deeply.

“Next stop Märsta,” the voice says, “Märsta. End of the line.”

“Oh shit!” she says and starts humping him again, “I need your … I want you … Come on!”

The train slows down for the last curve before the station.

“You’re protected, right?” he says, concern in his voice.

“Yes! I just want you to come in me.” She grins lecherously. “I want to feel your come, while I’m going to the bus … no one will know…”

“Shit, you’re nasty!”

She moves faster. “I want you to come … please!”

They can see the lights of Märsta passing by down in the valley. She grabs his shaft by the root, forcing his foreskin down, exposing his sensitive head to her smooth caress at the same time as she clamps down on him, even harder, and tighter. She does this while fucking him and she can see the effect it has on him. Within seconds he starts humping back at her, gasping and grunting.

“That’s it,” she says, cooing in encouragement, “come in me! Come in me!”

He grabs her hips, pulling her down to him, pushing deeper into her than ever, until she can feel him brushing against the very bottom of her vagina.

He cries.

She can feel his come shooting into her. The orgasm lasts for what seems like an eternity and when the train comes to a halt and the doors opens with a hiss they both scramble to their feet, frantically trying to get dressed before anyone can see them.

It turns out they’re in luck an no one passes by outside. Most people going to Märsta or Upplands-Väsby are sitting in the first two cars — the only exit is in the direction the train travels — and most people going to Rosersberg in the last one or two — their only exit in the opposite direction of the movement of the train. This leaves a number of cars in the middle of the train, completely deserted, like the one they are in now.

“What’s your name?” he says, buttoning his fly.

“This is just a thing,” she says, “okay? I don’t love you, I don’t want to see you again, and we just had sex, nothing more … we fucked, period!”

“Sure…”

“So don’t ask for my name.”

She digs through her purse until she finds a tampon that she unwraps and pushes between her legs. When she sees him staring, she turns her back at him. “You can leave now,” she says.

“Why the tampon?”

“I don’t want your shit running down my legs on the bus, do I?”

“Uh … okay…”

“Why are you still here?”

“I just thought…”

“Don’t. Just move the fuck on!”

“Sure,” he says and leaves.

She buttons her coat and hurries to the bus. Once aboard the bus she realizes he’s going with the same bus she is. She sits, her back turned to him. She is unable to see him, see if he is looking at her, what he is thinking about her, or when he gets off. Perhaps he is staying until she gets off, looking for more of what she has already given him? When she finally gets up his seat is empty.

The large houses in the luxurious neighborhood looms in their large, dark gardens; fortresses in which their owners have secluded themselves from the world. She stops at an iron gate, a large, mostly dark, house hiding in the shadows behind the grating. Her home. She punches the code on a keypad in the brick wall beside the gate and a small side door opens.

She trudges up the road to the entrance. Rings the bell. The door is locked, she has no key. The maid answers after several moments.

“Welcome home, Miss Natalie,” she says, reaching to take the coat from her mistress.

“Thank you, Orsolya,” Natalie says, shying away from her. “Please…”

Orsolya reaches for the coat again. “It is his orders.”

Natalie sighs and her hands starts to listlessly unbutton the garment. Once done Orsolya takes it and hangs it among the other clothes in the hallway, not as much as a single glance at her, but for the purse and pantyhose, completely naked mistress.

“He is waiting in the library,” she says.

Natalie nods, steps out of her shoes and starts toward the large oak doors to the library. She stops one step into the room, eyes lowered, silently closing the doors behind her while waiting for the man in the other end of the room to notice her. Her palms are twitching to cover up her body, but she has learned the hard way how bad that idea is.

The man is sitting in a large chair, one leg comfortably crossed over the armrest. He is reading a book; she can hear the rustle as he turns the pages, once, twice, but finally he puts the book down, and looks at her.

“Closer.”

She walks up to him. Eyes still on the floor.

“So, how has your day been?”

She reaches into her purse and picks out a used condom, tied shut with a knot. She places it on the table in front of him, making sure he can see the white liquid inside.

He looks from the condom to her face.

She hesitates, her mouth a stubborn line.

He frowns.

She sighs and picks two more condoms out of her purse.

“Three?”

“No…” she says, hesitating. A blush rising on her cheeks. He looks at her. Eyes cold. Unfeeling. She slides her pantyhose down, revealing the white cotton string obviously disappearing into her vagina.

“Pull it out,” he says.

“What?”

Their eyes meet. She only manages to meet his icy blue stare for a second before she lowers her eyes and pulls the tampon out of her body. It is immediately followed by a gush of semen, held in place by nothing but the tampon. She quickly closes her thighs, catching most of the goo between them before it can reach the carpet, but she can feel a persistent rivulet traveling down her calf and when she tries to stop it with her other foot, more come starts running down her legs.

He stares at the shiny mess between her thighs for a long while before looking up at her again. “Are you proud of yourself?”

“No…”

“What?”

“No.”

“You shouldn’t be. You should be ashamed. You should be abhorred by yourself.”

” … you told me…”

“And you did it like a little whore! Get out of my sight! Get a shower!”

She turns and runs out of the room, legs together in an attempt to keep the fluids running out of her from ruining the carpet. As she pitter-patter up the stairs to the top floor tears starts running down her cheeks, and she has to hurry into the bathroom before any of the servants can see them.