Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Humor, Oral Sex, .
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Jake takes a train trip to London on a glorious spring day and realises he seen the young lady sitting opposite him before. What he doesn't know is that Emma is one of Ladz "Local Lovelies", and since appearing in Britain's leading lad's magazine in nothing but her undies, her life hasn't quite taken the path she expected.
The heat was relentless.
The sun rose in a cloudless sky and, by mid-morning, the temperature was soaring. After a long week in his poorly air conditioned office, Jake could think of no better way to spend such a glorious Saturday day than strolling around the capital.
He dressed for the sun in light-blue denim shorts and a white T-shirt, and caught the train to London. He wanted to call on the Queen. Or rather, he'd stand at the gates to Buckingham Palace and watch the Japanese tourists take photographs. He planned to have lunch on the banks of the Serpentine in Hyde Park, maybe stroll around Tate Modern or the Natural History Museum. He might take a walk around Kew Gardens in the afternoon and then take in a West End show in the evening. London held so many possibilities.
He found a seat at the end of the carriage, next to the window and facing away from the direction of travel, and read the copy of The Daily Echo he'd picked up at the station. Glenn Fielding's latest expose was splashed over the front page. The victim was pop star Billy Thomas, who'd been caught in a compromising position with a woman old enough to be his mother.
The small commuter train had high-backed seats grouped in fours—two pairs facing each other—either side of the aisle. The tiny table that jutted out from under the window was just large enough to rest a couple of cups on. He looked around at the other passengers. There was an Asian couple with a baby, two teenagers playing on Gameboys, a rowdy group of football supporters who expected their team to be crowned champions that afternoon, several families, and three teenage girls.
The girls sat across the aisle from Jake. He gave them a cursory glance. They were probably fourteen, maybe fifteen, but desperate to appear older. All three of them had taken the sunny weather as an excuse to show as much flesh as they could. They all had their pierced belly-buttons exposed. Two of them wore short skirts and the third had on denim pedal-pushers. Jake might have fancied them had he been ten years younger. Or even five years younger. Instead, he sighed and resigned himself to an unpleasant journey avoiding their conversations about which of their boyfriends had the biggest dick and the best way to give head without choking.
The three seats around Jake remained unoccupied, which made him briefly wonder if he'd showered well enough that morning. He shook the thoughts away as the train pulled away with a jerk and flung one of the girls forward onto her friends. They started giggling uncontrollably.
"Oh, no—I'm going backwards. Quick, Katie, swap."
"Please. I hate going backwards."
"That's not what you said to Colin the other night," said the third girl. They giggled again.
The girl who was travelling backwards leaned across and playfully slapped her friend's arm. "Bitch."
Katie relented and swapped seats. Jake tried not to look as she moved and her skirt rose up and her black thong winked at him from the crack of her arse. He lifted up his paper to block the view.
Oh, my God, he thought. And we haven't even cleared the platform yet.
The door that connected the carriages burst open without warning and a woman rushed through. A sudden movement of the train slammed the door shut behind her and threw her into the nearest seat—the aisle seat opposite Jake. He didn't register who'd sat down, but he was thankful that she'd chosen the aisle seat. It meant he could still stretch out his legs. He flicked through the TV magazine that came with his paper. Ten minutes later, he'd finished reading the plot lines for the major soap-operas, which saved him watching them, and knew all about the prospects of a British winner at the Eurovision song contest. He put the magazine on the table under the window, picked up the newspaper and started reading from the sports section at the back. An article about which international goalkeeper Westmouth United should buy when the football season was over held his interest.
Two of the three girls were still giggling. The third had plugged herself into her iPod and was swearing along to bad rap tune.
"Excuse me?" It was the lady in the seat opposite. He looked up from the story. "Is that yours?" She pointed at the discarded magazine.
"Yeah," he said. "It came with the paper."
"Do you mind?"
"No, go ahead."
As she reached over and pick up the magazine, her frilly blouse gapped open and treated him to a flash of the contents. But it was only when she leaned back in her seat and opened the magazine, that he got the full effect. When she was upright, the blouse—white, with big red flowers—was more than respectable. It covered all it needed to, but was low-cut enough to hint at the delights within. She wore a black leather skirt. Not a mini, like the teenagers across the aisle, but short enough to show off her tanned thighs to best effect. There was something vaguely familiar about her. Jake felt as if he'd seen her before and failed miserably to not stare, following her legs down to her black, knee-high boots.
Luckily for Jake, she was thoroughly absorbed in the magazine and didn't notice that he couldn't drag his eyes from her. He shook himself out of his trance and looked back at the story he'd been reading. He lowered the newspaper enough to look at her over the top. He'd seen her before, he knew he had, but he couldn't say where. Wsetmouth was a big place. Maybe he'd seen her in one of the city centre pubs. On the other hand, maybe he'd mistaken her for someone else. He read a few lines of the story and then glanced up at her again. That was the pattern for the next few minutes. A few more lines, then a longer glance. She didn't seem to notice him at all. The journey had suddenly become much more bearable.
For twenty minutes Jake kept up his furtive glances. He had to remind himself to turn the pages of his newspaper and keep up the pretence of reading. He had lost interest in what the journalists had to say long ago.
She closed the magazine and leaned over to put it back on the table. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Jake could see down her blouse again. She was wearing a lacy white bra. She must have noticed him gazing down her top, but didn't show it, even when he looked away and blushed.
She leaned back and rested her head against the seat. Jake looked over the top of his paper again. Even her neck was sexy—tanned and slender. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She leaned forward, pulled off her scrunchy and ruffled her raven locks. With her hands above her head, her glorious breasts thrust out in Jake's direction and strained against her blouse. When she was satisfied that she had loosened her hair enough, she pulled it tight and put it back into a ponytail. She caught him watching and smiled. And what a smile it was. Perfect lips—not too thin, not too full. She spread them wide to expose her gleaming teeth.
Stop it, Jake told himself. He tied to concentrate on the article he wasn't reading about a referendum in France.
She was restless, incapable of sitting still. She took her mobile phone out of her tiny handbag and dialled a number. She stared at the ceiling of the carriage while she waited for her call to connect. Not for the first time, Jake was drawn to her eyes which were brilliant blue with large, black pupils and surrounded by long lashes. They flicked down to him momentarily before looking up to the ceiling again. The call connected and she began an animated conversation.
"Billy? Yeah, it's me. The train's nearly in. No, no, I'll get the tube, it'll be quicker. I should be there in an hour or so. Yeah, I know, I'm looking forward to it too."
Boyfriend, Jake decided.
"Is Mum there?" she asked.
Jake peeked over the top of his paper and watched her as she waited. "Happy Birthday, Mum. No, I'm not telling you, it's a surprise. No, I'm sure you'll love it—I wouldn't have arranged it if I didn't think you would. Mum, can I speak to Billy again please?"
A short pause.
"Are you sure Mum has no idea? Well, you must have some idea. You're her son for God's sake." She shook her head as she put the phone down and switched it off, then looked at Jake and smiled. After a quick glance at the three teenage girls across the aisle—the one with the iPod had removed her earphones and turned up the volume so that her two friends could swear along too—she rolled her head back towards Jake and sighed. "We were that young once."
"Don't remind me."
They chuckled, but that was the extent of their conversation between them until the train approached Charing Cross station.
The young woman pulled a lipstick from her handbag, removed the top, and took extreme care twisting it so that the coloured stick within was revealed. Jake watched, captivated, as she rolled it around her lips, first the top, then the bottom, finishing by smacking them together twice.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the next stop is London Charing Cross, where this train will terminate. London Charing Cross is your next station stop. Passengers are reminded to take all belongings with them. We would like to thank you for travelling with Southeast trains today." Throughout the carriage, people stood up and prepared to leave, including the three teenagers.
"Waste of time really," the woman said. "We haven't even stopped yet."
"And we'll be last off anyway," Jake replied.
They both sat until the train had stopped and enough people had stepped onto the platform to allow the three girls, each now sporting a cigarette ready to light, to move forward.
"I suppose we better go," she said.
"I suppose so. After you." Jake gestured towards the door.
She stood, confirming just how magnificent her legs were, and as she turned to leave he got a good look at her rear, which was as perfect as the rest of her. She glanced back at her him and he quickly raised his eyes from her arse. She had surely caught him looking this time.
"It was nice, nearly meeting you," she said. Then she stepped off the train and walked down the platform towards the ticket gates.
Jake was stunned by her words. He had spent the whole journey ogling her, and she had just given him every indication that she had enjoyed it.
Hell, he thought, she probably played up to it with all the hair ruffling and stuff.
He regained himself, jumped off the train and ran to catch up with her. This had to be done now. He'd lose her for good if she went through the ticket gate and into the maze of the tube.
"Excuse me." He tapped her arm. She stopped and turned to face him.
"Erm, this is going to sound a little strange, given you don't know me at all, but I have to say this or I'll regret it for the rest of the day, maybe the rest of my life."
"Erm, you have lovely eyes." He paused. She smiled. He smiled back. "Lovely eyes and a magnificent smile."
"You look really familiar, I don't suppose..."
"A dark-haired Sarah Michelle Gellar?" She was still smiling.
"Buffy the Vampire Slayer."
"Oh!" Jake grinned. "Yeah. I can see the resemblance."
"I get that a lot."
"But ... I'm positive I've seen you somewhere before."
She sighed. "Do you ever read Ladz?"
Jake nodded. "I wouldn't say 'read' exactly..."
"You just look at the pictures? Then you will have seen me before. Just with fewer clothes on."
Jake thought for a few seconds. "You posed for 'Local Lovelies', didn't you? A few weeks ago."
"It was back in February."
"Well, I must say, you look better in the flesh, so to speak. Look, silly question. I mean you probably get strangers asking you this all the time, and please don't think that just 'cause you've stripped for a magazine I think you're easy or anything cause I don't ... but would you like to go for a drink?"
"I'd love to but ... it's my mum's birthday, and I'm supposed to be taking her out for a surprise dinner cruise on the Thames. Sorry."
"That's okay. It was a long shot anyway."
"Why don't I give you my number? You could call me, text me. Whatever."
Jake pulled out his mobile from his back pocket and keyed in the number as she said it. "Who should I file this under? I mean I can hardly put 'The Girl on the Train', can I? It wouldn't fit for one thing. Or should I go and look on the Ladz website?"
"I'm Emma," she said, offering her hand.
"Jake." He shook her hand.
"And what's your number, Jake?"
"You don't expect me to wait for you to call, do you? I mean, it took you the whole train ride just to say I had nice eyes."
Jake gave her his number and she stored it in her phone.
"I'm sorry I can't stop and talk. Mum's expecting me. I'll speak to you later. Bye."
And she was gone.