Lotte And Marieke - 1

Secrets from my Red Diary... During a train journey in September 2004, I fell in love with the gorgeous legs of a young student. The blonde girl obviously started flirting with me. Or not?

It was sometimes difficult for me not to burst out laughing out loud. It was a warm, sunny Friday afternoon in September and I was on the train heading home. With an absurdly witty book on my lap. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

It was not very busy in the train compartment. I sat on the aisle in a four-person seat. On the couch across from me, by the window, a man was busy typing on his laptop. The seat on the other side of the aisle was occupied by two sedate elderly ladies.

While the train was already slowing down, an announcement announced that we were approaching the next station. I looked up from my book and peered out the window. A train passed us in the opposite direction, a platform came into view, and the train slowed noticeably.

I watched the waiting travelers on the platform flash past the window.

If I have to travel alone, I'd rather take the train than the car. In the car, I have to keep my hand on the wheel all the time, my eyes fixed on mind-numbing asphalt and madmen racing past. On the train I can dream away peacefully in a book and even close my eyes for a moment if I want to imagine an interesting passage I just read. For that reason alone, I was not sorry that my friend had appropriated our car to visit her mother that day, so that I was sentenced to the train.

However, there is a second reason why I love train travel. It is always a surprise who sits opposite you or next to you. That can of course be quite disappointing. The boring office cock and the two old cakes I was looking at at that moment were not exactly my dreamed view. But luckily the two ladies got up and then shuffled to the exit. I looked at the empty four-person seat they left behind and thought: new round, new opportunities.

The train came to a stop, the doors opened, the alighters hurried to the station exit or to their terminal, and new passengers poured in.

And luck was on my side.

The first thing I saw of the young woman was her bare legs. Lightly tanned, smooth, slender, moving on blue ballerinas and wearing a very short blue skirt. The beautiful legs stepped to the empty four-person seat and took a seat diagonally to the left opposite me, on the aisle. Then my view was obscured by all sorts of other passing legs. Legs in jeans, slacks, a floral dress. Thick legs in black tights. Heavily hairy legs in shorts. It went on and on.

When finally everyone had passed, I stared breathlessly at the two bare legs for at least another minute. Legs held tightly together. The ballerinas were exactly right next to each other. The blue skirt, however short, was neat. There was nothing visible that should not be visible.

Unfortunately.

So I just let my gaze creep up. A white blouse with short sleeves. The contours of a slim waist and a modest bust. And above that a fresh, young face. A flawless skin. Long blond hair that hung loose over the shoulders. A mouth with busy, bright red lips. I zoomed out to find two Asian-looking girls sitting opposite each other at the window side, to whom the bare-legged blonde girl was chattering in English. I realized to my horror that I had apparently been so focused on the beautiful legs that I had completely missed the entrance of the Asian girls.

I looked at the three young women. Typical students.

The blonde seemed busy explaining something to her friends. I studied her face. A pretty face, but not perfect. Her mouth was a little too wide and her nose a little too big.

Her two girlfriends, on the other hand, I found downright uninteresting. One was plump and pimply, the other was scrawny and wore thick glasses on her nose. And their clothes weren't up to much either. Cheap T-shirts and faded jeans.

I turned my attention back to my book and searched for the paragraph where I left off. But before I found it, my eyes turned to the left again to stare at the blonde's slender legs. I could not help myself.

I couldn't read anymore. I pretended to read, but I kept peeking. Now and then I turned a page without looking at a single word. All my attention was on those two beautiful bare legs, sticking out so seductively from under that super short skirt.

After a few minutes I looked up and saw that the blonde girl was still chatting. She gestured vigorously with her hands, long fingernails painted an enticing red. Suddenly she turned her head in my direction. She looked straight at me and smiled kindly. I smiled back, and she immediately turned back to her friends.

I stared mesmerized at her, rested my gaze on her small bosom for a few seconds, and suddenly felt a pleasant tingle between my groins.

A moment later she looked at me again. Again with that friendly smile.

A seductive smile.

An irresistible smile.

Again I smiled benevolently back. And again she immediately turned her head away. But now something else happened. The moment the blonde girl turned her head, she crossed her legs. She gave me a heart attack. Because I could see right under her blue skirt.

There wasn't much to see in itself. I mainly saw the bottom of the white blouse, which was stuffed into the skirt. But I also caught a glimpse of white panties.

My body reacted immediately. Or rather: a specific part of my body reacted immediately.

Luckily I had crossed my left leg over my right leg and there was a thick book open on my lap.

But I got very hot. I felt like my head turned bright red. That's why I felt embarrassed when the blonde smiled seductively at me again.

I don't mind getting an erection when a nice punch flirts with me. But if that happens en plein public. Like on a train, in the midst of countless strangers.

I tried to put a generous smile on my face, as best I could with a half-erected pole in my pants. I must have laughed like a peasant with a toothache.

The blonde girl looked at me three more times.

And every time I smiled back kindly.

I managed to control my erection, but my arousal remained. I kept a close eye on the eyes of the three conversing girls. So that every time I thought I was unobserved, I could peek under the blue skirt. To that trivial but oh so enticing sliver of white panties.

* * *

The conductor announced the arrival at the next station via the broadcaster.

The Asian girlfriends of the blonde packed their bags, which were on the only free seat of the four-person seat. It was clear that the two ugly ducklings were about to leave the train.

Like me.

I had reached my destination.

But I didn't close my book.

And I didn't move to grab my backpack, which was on the seat to my right.

Because I decided to stay put.

I couldn't say goodbye to the blonde.

The blonde with the bare legs and the white panties.

My paper train ticket was not valid for further travel, I was well aware of that, but I did not expect to be caught as a fare dodger. A card check had already been performed. By two jolly, curvy conductors. And if there was an unexpected second check, I would say with a startled face that I had fallen asleep. At least that was the excuse my girlfriend would get if I had to explain my late arrival.

* * *

Slowly the train started moving again. It had grown quieter in the compartment. The blonde now occupied the four-person seat on her own. She was still in the same spot, on the aisle. Still with legs crossed. She had taken a Flair from her bag and was reading intently.

She didn't even look at me anymore. But she was still seductive. Looking in under her skirt.

I was perplexed.

On the one hand, I thought it was fantastic that I could now admire every spot of her beautiful legs without restriction and could peek unhindered at that small visible part of her white shorts. On the other hand, I would have preferred her to smile at me one more time. Now that she was alone, I could have gently struck up a conversation.

But she completely ignored me. Her eyes were fixed on the magazine and scanned the pages from left to right.

Suddenly a strange feeling overcame me. I looked around in surprise. Was I still on this train? Had I got off at the previous station after all and only sat in my thoughts? Had my body and mind separated? I looked at my hands holding the book in my lap.

Then I shook my head.

I was actually on the train. The blonde just didn't want to hear from me anymore.

* * *

Even before the next station was announced, she stuffed the Flair in her bag. She put her legs together, stood up, slung the bag over one shoulder and walked to the balcony. Without even looking in my direction for a second.

There was no point in staying on the train any longer. I put my book in my backpack, which I put on. I didn't have a coat with me; I had left it at home like most people. It was way too hot. Definitely 25 degrees.

As the train slowed down sharply, I walked down the aisle toward the balcony where the blonde had also gone. A long line had already formed in the aisle. I joined the back.

* * *

As I got off the train, I saw the short-skirted blonde going up the escalator. I took the same escalator. Once at the top, I searched for the travel information screens. I had no idea which platform to go to for the train back.

I saw the blonde girl disappear into the distance. On the way to the exit of the station.

And at that very moment my Nokia whined. A text from my girlfriend: car breakdown. When she wanted to leave, she couldn't get the engine to start. The car was now at a garage. And that's why she stayed with her mother.

I didn't think twice.

And sprinted for the exit.

* * *

Outside I looked around hurriedly until I caught sight of the long blond hair. The girl walked to the bus platform.

I shot after it, hastily typing an understanding text message to my friend, and watched the girl board a city bus and take a seat in an empty seat. I boarded the same bus, made eye contact, saw the surprise in her eyes as I passed her, and sat in the seat behind her, next to a portly black woman who was blaring loudly into her cell phone. The woman was so wide that our upper arms and thighs touched, even though I was slightly shifted to the left in my chair. I felt her body heat. Sweltering heat that I was not waiting for. The tropical temperature on the bus was bad enough.

The bus rocked and started to move, pushing the black woman and me hard against each other. Seeing only the back of the blonde's head, I began to study the woman next to me. She stared outside and went completely into her phone conversation. I looked at the side of her face, which was not unattractive and neatly made up. Smooth skin, red lips and long, black eyelashes. The cultured perfume the woman gave off tickled my olfactory nerves. She was wearing a red, tight-fitting mini dress that showed two legs that were at least twice as thick as mine. Her waist was barrel-round. But what I saw up there was fabulous: a gigantic facade that almost rolled out of the plunging neckline of the red dress. The visible gap between the huge prams was so big that I could completely sink my hand into it. And the straps of a red sexy bra partly came out from under the fabric of the dress.

I had to think back to a sex movie I had once seen, about the experiences of the female staff in a massage parlor. In one of the scenes, a muscular black man lay on his back on the massage table. Completely naked, although a white towel neatly covered his affair. A red-haired masseuse, dressed in a short baby-blue bathrobe along with high-heeled sandals, the standard uniform of the ladies in the salon poured a good shot of oil over the man and began to massage him vigorously. Until suddenly the man's member came to life and his head stuck out from under the towel. Curious, the masseuse pulled the towel aside and covered her mouth at the sight of the huge tree trunk. She grabbed the oil bottle, emptied it over the stiff pole and began a sensual massage. With her hands, with her mouth. Moments later, she lowered her bathrobe, revealing a luscious bosom and a red pussy. She smeared oil on her huge tits, grabbed them, placed them around the swollen cock, and began to move her bosom up and down. She did that until the man shot several good shoots of cum right into her open mouth.

Looking at the black tits next to me, I could totally imagine how nice it would be if I could stick my cock between them. Thank God the backpack was on my lap, because I felt an erection coming on.

I was so captivated by the gigantic tits and my erotic thoughts that I completely forgot about the blonde. Until I suddenly saw her walking past the window. I flew up and was just able to slip out of the bus between the already closing doors.

At the stop, I waited in the bus shelter until my erection had subsided before putting on my backpack. Then I quickly walked in the direction in which the blonde girl had disappeared. I followed her about twenty feet away, my eyes fixed on the two gorgeous bare legs that strode forward with a light step beneath the merrily fluttering miniskirt.

Suddenly the blonde looked skittishly over her shoulder. She saw me and quickened her pace.

Me, too.

Less than half a minute later, she looked back. After taking a few more steps, she turned resolutely and put her hands on her hips. The long, red fingernails stood out against her sunlit white blouse.

Are you chasing me? she cried with her nose in the air.

I walked over to her and stopped about a meter in front of her. I'm following you, yes, I smiled.

I already have a boyfriend, she said, looking straight at me.

And I already have a girlfriend, I grinned. Her name is Natasja.

She was silent for a moment.

I never cheat, she said, her voice sounding a little more uncertain than before.

I do, all the time, I boasted with a cheeky grin. A little exaggeration wouldn't hurt.

She stared at me silently with big, bright blue eyes. I knew I had shaken her. Probably just a little push was needed. So I went full on the attack: You are not going to deny that you were flirting with me on the train, are you?

She crossed her arms and raised her nose again. Ha! Do you chase every woman who smiles at you with a kind smile?

No, absolutely not, I replied. Not every woman who smiles at me kindly. But every woman who offers me a look under her short skirt while flirting.

She lowered her head and blushed.

Yes, I continued, You were nicely showing off your white panties. I didn't give her a chance to recover and immediately fired a series of new questions at her: Do you often flirt this intimately with a strange guy? ? And what does your friend think of that? Does he know that you are deliberately turning on strange guys? That you use all your charms to give them an erect cock?

I deliberately let my gaze slide down and up her beautiful figure.

She was silent for a few seconds, then snapped fiercely, the index finger of her right hand jabbing viciously at me. Yes, I flirt more often. When I see a nice guy. Just for fun. So what? Flirting is harmless. That's very different from cheating like you do. What does your girlfriend think about that?

I didn't answer the question. Cheating is great. Exciting and delicious. I can really recommend it. An enrichment of your sex life.

She rolled her eyes to heaven. Tss! You sound just like my sister, she sneered.

Is your sister also cheating? I asked surprised.

No, because my sister is single, said the blonde mockingly. And then she sighed: But she hops from one-night stand to one-night stand. And she likes to brag about it.

I heard a touch of jealousy in her voice. I knew enough. This girl could have run away long ago. But she didn't want that. Because she liked me, as she had just let go between nose and lips. She just didn't dare to make the decision. It was time to put her on the spot.