[Naive exhibition; romance, sexucation]

“All aboard,” mumbled the conductor. Scores of people crowded into the train before the conductor goosed the doors for the second time. Amtrak to Canada was oddly crowded for a Sunday in Manhattan. When we started traveling the tunnels out of the city, I still had to stand. The bright daylight briefly stung my eyes. Though the train vibrated on the old tracks, it was nicely quiet.

The above-ground cityscapes were interesting but not especially pretty. Several dozen people got off in POK, so I finally had my choice of seats. The scenery improved as we approached Rhinecliff and paralleled the Hudson River. Forests set a tone for relaxed sylvan suburban life. Many more people got off in Rhinecliff. “All aboard.” Almost everyone got off in the next three stops. “All aboard.” After wandering the train, I moved to the last Viewliner Car for the glass ceiling and the view we left behind.

A beautiful, sexy redhead was the only one already there. When I sat across the aisle from her, my deep breaths informed me how much the inside scenery had changed. She looked at me, scanned me, then nodded with a slight smile. I blushed and returned the scans and smile. Miles of river and idyllic woods slowly passed at seventy mph. I pointed out a huge sail on the tranquil, bluish water on my side. She moved closer to see it.

Ice broken, I asked about her destination and home, then shared my purpose. My boss had arranged a rental car and hotel room for me in Canada. She was going to the same town and station I was. But, her buttery voice made me sigh, her bright blue eyes mesmerized me. With little makeup, she was a natural and unpretentious beauty. Pleasant conversation flowed with no effort when she sat with me. I complimented her smile, her eyes, and asked where she modeled. She blushed. I had twelve hours to enjoy the beautiful natural scenery outside and inside all the way to Canada.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so forward. I’m Stu.” I extended my hand. She took it with a firm grip that sent a sensual spark up my arm. My thumb stroked her velvety skin, and my heart skipped some beats. She said she was Samantha, but to call her Sam. My dick throbbed. Did she notice?

She kept glancing at my third leg in my tapered grey slacks; I kept peeking at her shapely legs in her snug, tan, mid-thigh skirt or the deep cleavage which her translucent white blouse advertised. After catching me the fourth time, she puckered and asked, “Is there a problem? Or do you just see something you like?” Happily, she smiled.

Her bold question surprised me. How do I reply? Be bold back and tease? “No problem. With today’s hyper pc speak, I hesitate to compliment your exquisite beauty. But you know that already.” I gulped. “I’m impressed by your lack of makeup, your toned legs, and other attributes. You make me wonder if you jog for miles or swim laps daily. Your clothes are well-tailored and show you off well. It’s too bad about your cheap shoes. Walmart’s on sale?”

As expected, she gasped, reached across, and slapped my arm. Her open mouth somehow smiled, and she was still beautiful. After a few seconds, she said, “My shoes are from a limited LV collection and cost $900 — mid-range LV, but far from Walmart. And my shoes are not on my chest.” I smiled and felt my eyes sparkle. “Oh, you tease. I’m just average-looking — not tall enough to model. Should I go back to my seat?”

“Please don’t,” I said. Daring more, “It’s not your height thwarting your modeling success. Why do so-called ‘super models’ have no boobs? Do designers think straight men are attracted to boyish figures? Please don’t lie to me about your looks. You don’t want to know what I did to the last woman who did that.”

“You hacked her up, put her in your freezer, and ate her?” She laughed.

“Not exactly. Skip those first two parts. Yes, I ate her, then I married her.”

She gasped. Her jaw dropped and stayed open a full minute. I could see in her wide eyes the debate — should she run, or keep flirting? I laughed; she laughed. “Funny, but true,” I said.

“So, you’re married? I should have known.”

“No, Sam. I was. Now I’m not. I’m widowed. My guess, respectfully, is that despite your youth, you are not a virgin and have sufficient experience to know what I meant with my double entendre.”

“You are a master of subtle flattery. I surrendered my cherry to a jerk who wanted to bite my nascent boobs more than he wanted me. That was more than ... twenty years ago? You want to see the scars?” She released a button exposing more cleavage and most of her lacy cream bra.

“Yes, please. Happy to offer my opinion. I take it you aren’t shy.” My dick swelled, and she definitely noticed.

“No way. I’m modest, but not shy. Sorry, Stu. That’s for insulting my shoes.” She left the button open. “Hard to believe, but beauty can be a curse. No one takes you seriously; the good men don’t approach or try to date you since they assume you must be taken.”

“Or we think you are promiscuous and a petri dish of diseases?”

“Yes, Stu. I’ve heard that too. Sometimes I just want to shake the virginal image and be naughty. Don’t take that the wrong way.”

“I understand, Sam. Let’s get personal.” I leaned in, looked around, and whispered. “How long since you’ve had a loving sexual relationship or just been naughty — whatever that means to you?”

“I don’t think I should answer that, Stu.” She crossed her arms, turned away, and pouted while watching the trees whiz by. Did I push too far? Her arms and chin dropped. She sighed. “It’s been six years since I had either. I’d love to go skinny dipping casually in a river, but am too afraid to pick up a stranger for a one-night stand.”

I asked, “Are you afraid of the STIs or being abducted and beaten, Sam?” Her beautiful face sagged, and her eyes lost their sparkle. “It’s been ten years since I had any intimacy, so no STIs here. I understand you can’t be sure if I’m a good guy. I’m happy to help you be a little naughty with no risk. We can enjoy our hours together and make a memory.”

She stiffened, “What are you suggesting, Stu?”

“Something simple and harmless. For better or worse, we are alone in here. You can take off your bra without taking off your blouse. Is that naughty enough to start?”

She gasped and looked around. “Do you want to bite my tits?”

“I want to give you pleasure. That gives me pleasure. Do you want me to bite your tits and nipples? Both have grown stiff and are calling to me.” I gulped.

She looked down at her chest, then at my swollen bulge. While staring into my eyes or at my swelling, she nervously unbuttoned her yellow blouse fully. “Really, I’m not shy, just modest. I’ve been naked with many women after PE and swimming in college and at the YWCA.” After she swallowed hard, she rose to my challenge, unclipped her front-opening bra, paused before pushing her chest and DD tits out, then pushed both the bra and blouse off her soft shoulders. Bravely topless, her glorious tits defied gravity and shook as she tossed her clothes across the aisle to her old seat. Her cherry nipples stood tall and begged to be sucked. She blushed and smiled. “How’s this for naughty? Yes, you may examine them.” I wondered what her difference was between shy and modest.

I slid to the edge of my seat, then a deep, slow sigh filled my lungs. As I lifted both heavy beauties, I said, “This is an excellent start. I don’t see any scars or imperfections. Your tits are flawless.” I rubbed my thumbs across her nipples; their density and fragrance were perfect. Her eyes closed; her neck blushed. “May I taste them?” Being considerate of any lingering trauma could only help her. “I promise not to bite, unless you ask me to. Yet, the right intensity of biting will send a jolt straight to your clit and may make you orgasm.” She gulped.

I waited until she nodded, then closed my eyes and found her nipples like a child or kitten finds them when nursing. Her potent pheromones led me to them. Their taste was intoxicating. After lapping one, then the other, I gently scraped along each nipple. She pulled back. “I’m not biting. Let me show you.” I angled her head and pushed her long red hair aside to expose her slim neck, then scraped my teeth along it. She moaned. Her soft, yet firm, tit overflowed my hand.

“No one has ever done that to me. That’s an erogenous zone I didn’t know existed.”

I kissed her neck, then nibbled on her earlobe. She melted. “Sam, may I show you what a love bite on your nipple should be? I want you to guide me. When it starts feeling good, you’ll want me to bite harder. I won’t unless you tell me.” I sucked and lapped her nipple as she thought about it. She shivered, then told me she trusted me to be gentle and let go if it hurt.