“Oooooohhh,” she breathed back at me, “don’t you like it?” 

I really couldn’t answer her.  I flexed my arm, trying to reach parts of her and perhaps wreak my vengeance, but with her snuggled against me it was impossible.  Our fight went on invisible under our coats, only revealed perhaps by our flushed faces and my almost silent sighs and moans.  In my struggle to reach her she did indeed stop torturing my breasts, her hand went back to rest on my stomach.  I stopped my efforts and we both paused a moment. 

Then she whispered to me, “Are you noisy when you come?”  She said it so quietly that at first I didn’t hear her, she understood this and then repeated her question but at the same time slid her hand into the elastic waistband of my skirt.  I gasped very audibly and jumped in my seat as I realised what her intentions were.  The man just across the aisle looked over at us again, a quizzical look on his face.  I smiled at him weakly. Sylvia (the witch) had her head on my shoulder, eyes closed, feigning sleep. 

Her hand forced its way down. Fearing a real scene (I am noisy when I come), I actually grabbed her wrist with my left hand and stopped her progress.  “Ahhhh come on,” she whispered, “you know you want me to.” 

She was right, part of me really did want her to and part of that was precisely because we were in the middle of a train full of people and also because I do make a noise when I come and all that together made me even more excited.  “No way,” I hissed back at her. 

She insisted. “Listen, if you let me do this, then when we get home I will let you do anything you want to me, anything at all.  Fancy that?” 

“Let me and I will let you tie me up and spank me.”  This I had confessed as one of my own personal fantasies: to tie someone up and spank them.  I knew I was sunk.  I let go of her wrist and I could hear her chuckling.  Her hand continued its journey down, down my stomach, to the top of my panties and then slipping delicately under their elastic to the start of my pubic hair.  Then I didn’t shave, I only trimmed; even so I was hairy enough for her to twirl her fingers in the hairs over my sex.  She pulled on them tantalisingly.  She ran her hand out through the leg hole of my panties and down the top of one of my thighs and then down the other one.  Finally she traced a finger along the crack between my mons and thigh, forcing her finger down.  I felt like I was melting, so hot was I.  I couldn’t resist opening my thighs slightly, so easing her explorations; she chuckled again.  Her inquisitive finger came to rest at the top of my slit in the hairs just over my clitoris.  She didn’t exert any pressure on my clitoris but started to run her finger down the outer labia of my hot sex.  I parted like the skin of a ripe fruit under her finger; I could feel how the lips of my sex, which before had been just about closed, finally, in a last rush of sexual arousal, peeled open.  Inside my lips I was liquid, molten.