I am on on my way home. A grey landscape hurtles by, as the train speeds down the track. My seat rattles, going from a gentle throb to a banging clatter. From absent daydreaming, I move to consciousness. To this rough movement. To the throttle of the engine that feels like a giant vibrator. I move ever so slightly in my seat. Between my legs, my flower unfurls. I close my eyes and feel the warmth rise. My clit awakens. I clench my muscles as the vibration shoots through me like an electric shot. Oh my God. This makes the feeling grow. It mounts. Becomes intense. I cross my legs. Tightly. So tightly that the pressure builds on my clit. It fights back, pressing up against my thighs. Threatening to explode. But no, it can’t. No, I can’t. I mustn’t come in public. My vulva is on fire. The heat rises from my belly, flushing my face, making my breath come shallow and fast. I spread my legs just slightly. Just enough to free the inner petals of my beautiful cunt. Through my knickers, through my jeans, they graze the seat. I press down to meet the vibration head on. A moan slips my lips. I catch myself. But nothing can stop the hot fluid that is pouring out. I can feel it. Unable to contain myself, I lean forward, splaying out my buttocks, pressing my vulva into the seat. Pressing my asshole into the seat. My perineum into the seat. Sweet agony. This train ride is two hours long. How can I last? My clit feels hard, rock-like. Although I cannot touch myself, I can feel that I am drenched, as are my pants. A deep ache takes shape inside my empty cunt. It reminds me that I need to be filled, to be pummelled, to be stretched. I clench and unclench my muscles, feeling the burning build at the entrance to my vagina. I am flushed and hot. My breasts feel imprisoned in their bra. My ovaries begin to ache with longing. So too the muscles of my groin. Deep inside my cunt, my cervix feels engorged, as if begging to be touched. This pleasure is unbearable. Larger than me. Stronger than me. Right now, all of me is my cunt. Just my cunt. My beautiful, burning cunt.
At last, I reach my station. I lope down the street, racing home. Once inside, I slam the door shut and run upstairs to my bedroom, tearing my clothes off as I go. Naked, I throw myself onto the duvet covering the bed. It feels cool against my skin. I sink my face into it. My nipples harden. My belly sinks into the softness beneath me. My legs writhe and spread. At last, I can moan. Out loud. In desperation, I clutch at the duvet, scrunching it up, shoving it madly between my legs. Something, anything to quieten this feeling. I grind into it, grunting animal-like as I do so, my vulva and my ass humping its coolness. I jerk my ass a thousand times, like a madwoman. Like a woman on fire. My clit is all that matters now. Yes, in and out, in and out. Yes, yes, yes. Oh God, yes. My clit feels sore, but I love it. I love it. I love it. My clit is my being. It is alive. It is strong. It is powerful. About to burst. And then I cannot hold back any longer. My entire cunt explodes into the duvet. The orgasm shoots through me from foot to head, making me gasp for air. Paroxysms of pleasure. I shriek as the lava gushes out of me. Shaking me. Making my feet curl. Like a waterfall, the tension drains at last. Exhausted, I lie quiet for a moment or two. Then I notice that the duvet is drenched. Have I peed or have I squirted? I do not know. It does not matter. I raise the wet duvet to my lips. It tastes of salt. Of my clit. Of my cunt.
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