She poured herself a cup of tea
from a tartan Thermos flask like my grandparents took to Felixtowe, there to sit in the car and watch the waves.

I'd say she was 10 years my senior, I never asked, but she looked flawless and polished and poised against my casual teen scruff attire.

We were in a small train station somewhere west of Banbury and east of Hereford. The weather was pleasant, late July if I recall correctly, warm enough but before the humidity and persistent angry wasps of August.
I watched the tendrils of steam curling upwards and vanishing just below the tip of a perfect nose, her dark hair falling into loops of ebony sheen.
And there we sat; awaiting the delayed connection, just the two of us on an acre of platform. Striking up a conversation should be easy in these circumstances; two lonely travelers and the romance of a sunny station bench.
She smiled at me and with a simple flash of teeth over shiny lips swept away the casual sounding words I had assembled to break the ice. I muttered something about delays and the weather, the mainstay of the lost-for-words Brit.
She agreed and folding her magazine swiveled her body towards me. Ah, an invitation to continue, no rebuff. She was on her way to a business meeting and was already so late had been forced to reschedule it for the following day; I, on the way to a work related college course. An hour passed, slipped by unnoticed, and perhaps another. She was twirling her hair and my thoughts with one delicate finger. I noted that the nail polish was chipped and that she'd chewed the tip of the nail a little. This only seemed to make her more attractive to me. We seemed to find much in common, the laughter coming easily. I began to relax in her presence.
And then she touched me. Just like that, just on the knee but it was the sensation of an electric fence shock. I must have jumped involuntarily because she laughed and told me she didn't bite. Attempting to appear cool and collected I replied that "I was rather hoping you would"
Suddenly she stood up and holding out her hand for mine said, "let's go for a walk". My mind went into immediate shock, what the hell was about to happen here?
I don't think it would be exaggeration to state that I was having trouble breathing and was developing a boner which was going to make walking a bit of a challenge. I stood awkwardly and tried to shuffle my hips to surreptitiously push my cock into a more comfortable position without blatantly shoving my hand down the front of my jeans and adjusting the tackle. Like a bumbling schoolboy I began to walk with her through the station gate and towards the woods behind the carpark.
I wondered briefly if she was leading me into a trap of some kind, so surreal was this scene, but I allowed my self to be led into the shady trees.

Now I'd love to be able to tell of how I pumped her senseless against the gnarly bark of an old oak, the sun streaming through the leaves into her beautiful face as she gasped in ecstasy. The truth is that faced with the overwhelming excitement and view of her pale white thighs as she pulled her knickers to one side, thrusting a hand between us to play with herself, and with my face buried in her Chanel scented cleavage I lasted about a minute, possibly less and certainly not as much as two minutes.
As we walked back to the station, each with our respective disappointment, I reflected on how this was going to replay in my head in the days to come.
I felt that perhaps a second go would have created a better ending but it didn't happen. We sat, held hands, made small talk and rather awkwardly parted as her train finally arrived.

In hindsight I realise that whatever we had found to talk about before was now redundant, the deed was done and there was really nothing left to say.

It was several years before I was able to catch a whiff of Chanel and not be instantly transported back to the moment, those scent receptors can be a powerful trigger. Even seeing steam rising from a cup towards a female mouth got a little stir going. It was crap sex but the best kind of wank bank material because it was so fucking evocative and erotic and could be replayed in dirty detail whenever a few minutes were available for a quick shuffle.

So there we go, another sex lie on t'internet or an unfeasible but real encounter - you can decide for yourselves.
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Sun 26 Aug 2012, 20:20, 3 replies)

Another rose
amongst the thorns.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Sun 26 Aug 2012, 22:13, closed)

It has a ring of truth
but I've been fooled before.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Mon 27 Aug 2012, 3:44, closed)

/won't get fooled again

( Infidel , shit and wrong, Tue 28 Aug 2012, 0:20, closed)