Risky Business

During the end of the 90’s I was returning from Manchester via train after a night of awesome partying at the Hacienda with some lively Manc’s that I’d recently met whilst holidaying in Greece.

It was the summer of love and everyone, were indulging in £25 ecstasy pills which I recall ravers nick named recent batches “Mick Jaggers”. If you have ever experienced mass crowds on MDMA you will know how loved up people become, with the euphoric atmosphere that builds with the beat of the music that puts revellers on the love adrenalin super-highway.

I recall one girl bouncing over to furiously hug me, with pupils like satellite dishes and clutching her mineral water bottle to inform me that I was amazing as she had the same T-Shirt at home as what I was wearing, strange I know, but only being 17 so I went along with it. I never did these drugs, but I occasionally had a dab of amphetamine to keep me awake if it were a heavy all-nighter.

So on the train the next day and I’m still feeling that love adrenalin that’s infectious which has again been brought on by the motions of the train. Two stations south of Manchester and this handsome boy jumps on about my age, I immediately make eye contact and he smiles at me through his chin-length, sun bleached blond hair and sits opposite, across the table from me.

With my head rested back, I return a smile keeping the eye-contact. There’s an air of shyness about him, which is making me horny as I stair into his green eye’s and golden completion.

“Going anywhere nice” I ask?

“Returning home to Chesterfield ” he say’s appearing pleased that I’d began a conversation

“I’m going home too, just spent the weekend in Manchester, have been to the Hacienda” I say all smug and matter of fact.

Casually chatting and flirting, I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table, cupping my chin with my hand and keeping the eye-contact. I really fancied him and wanted to make a move and manipulate his shyness, so I slide my foot under the table and started to brush against his ankle. He gradually leans forward too, looking flustered, mirroring me, wresting his elbows on the table and continues to smile

“My stops coming soon” he say’s becoming disappointed

“In that case ill have to do this then”

Further forward I lean and gently begin kissing him, gently rolling my lips over his, teasing his tongue with mine and bringing us both into a deep transfixed kiss.

NEXT STATION CHESTERFIELD came on the announcement

Holding his neck, I pull away gently, softly biting his bottom lip slowly finishing, both keeping eye contact. He hurriedly searches in his pockets for a pen and paper

“here’s my number” as he say’s, shaking as he writing the numbers down.
..Promise you’ll ring”

“of course” I lie

“Promise” he finally says

He leaves the train, occasionally turning to keep the eye contact. He reaches the platform gazing through the glass for a last look and I gently smiled back.

I wish he had'nt have had to get off at Chesterfield, my pussy was wet and I would have loved to marched him in the toilet so he could eat it, gobbling my juices.

So, I went to the toilets all by myself and rubbed my wet little clit into a frenzied orgasm thinking of the boy with sun bleached hair, golden completion and great bone
structure. My stop was announced shortly after and after gathering my belongings, I threw my ticket into the bin along with the boy’s telephone number.

At the age of 17, I was proud of my confidence in cooley seducing a stranger on the Midland Mainline. I think I’d recently been watching the film Risky Business that subconsciously gave me the idea. I then wish I was a leggy-blond and looked like Rebecca De Mornay.