(I asked) ‘Will you just relax, and let me?’

Seated casually on my left with her back turned towards me, I wrapped my left arm around her waist, and slid my hand over her flat belly. Small as they were, it was fairly easy for me to push the tips of my fingers into her tights, and over her soft, cotton panties.

Unwanting to overwhelm her immediately, I cupped my palm over her groin and warmed her up a little, before pressing my index and forth fingers deeper between her pussy.

Kneading through that kiddy-looking, blue-stripped underwear, my crafty mind conceptualised the outer mould of her fleshy, love cave, and where her clit – should be.

It would be the first time I touched her this way, in terms of speed, mood, and more importantly, objective. We were on a mission for ‘discovery’, to see if there was a right spot, or method, to give this girl an orgasm she so well deserved.

Within minutes of the warm-up, I could detect some dampness in her pants, along with a less-tensed body. I continued moving my fingers until I heard her loud breathing, and proceeded to carefully let myself into her restricted zone.

Upon close contact, an exasperated gasp just escaped my lips as my middle finger ‘accidentally’ dived into the major folds of her pussy, encountering a level of wetness more comparable to a dipping sauce.

Despite our ‘obstructed’ angle (she is leaning on my shoulder), I knew she was as excited to impress me with her readiness as I was to stumble into it. Unable to resist the ‘deep pool’, I pushed my middle finger further down her slit, and poked its very tip into her unexplored region.

It was fully flooded in there, for a good reason too. It meant that I had convenient access to more ‘lubricant’, as well as an alternative gap to tease if I wished to. With my finger drenched in her juice, I made sure to drag myself very slowly, between her labia until I reached the top of her slit.

And there it was, a familiar shape of an inverted ‘V’, where a tiny hood kept her clitoris warm and shielded. Sure, I know that she knew where that was, but to be excavated this way, by someone else, definitely stirred up some euphoria in her.

Joining my fourth finger with the middle, I maintained my position over her clit and rubbed her gently, for a brief moment before sending them (my fingers) down her pussy to gather more moisture. It was most thrilling to hear how she gasped to that, as it broke her body’s rhythm for some ‘unexpected’ sensations.

The process of rubbing, sliding down, then up, and rub, slowly became ingrained in her, and built up a recognisable pattern of body movements in her. Each time my fingers went lower, she sat straighter, and on my way ‘up’ (back to her clit), she would melt back into a slouch.

It was about then I introduced another ‘killer’ move, that involved splitting my (two) fingers apart, to go over her outer labia as I went down. Being neglected the whole time, they were especially sensitive when my fingertips brushed over them, garnering a deep sigh as I worked those delicate, meat valleys. I made sure, not to do that too often, or it may well take the ‘surprise’ away from my predictable strokes.

Having spent so much time in this single, yet emotional position, her legs were beginning to tremble, as her arms were. Hands gradually turned cold, and thighs twitching more frequently, I knew I had to keep my mind, and fingers steady from changing any aspect of what I have been doing.

That meant, keeping (the same) speed, pressure, finger movements, and angle, for as long her body needed.

About two minutes after, she wrapped a hand around my wrist, and grabbed it tighter and tighter as more fluid rushed out of her. By then, my entire hand was ‘moisturised’ by her soaked panties, in which my efforts were about to be paid off.

‘shit.. J! I.. Nghhh!’, she left her sentence unmade as her body went into a fit, barely containing the orgasm that was blasting up her spine. Her shivers came in waves, after waves, and took more of her breath away each time until she fell limp into my chest.

Under her exhausted, overwhelmed voice, she muttered, ‘fuck wei.. I cannot..’. But I knew she could, and have done so.

Unwilling to risk staying any longer in the family room, I helped her up and did as she asked, to remove her panties as it was impossible for her to do anything in it, let alone sitting in the train.

For the better or worse, she tasked me to ‘keep her panties’, before she wiped herself down to a moderate dryness. From then, her eyes, they never looked at me the same again, and I wasn’t sure if it meant good or bad.

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