Break away for Kronii and yourself, you booked a 1st class booth on a Premium train for the two of you
journey is several hours but you have each other and the beautiful landscape out the window, Idyllic pastures, rolling green hills and a bright blue sky that only reminds you of her eyes
suddenly your meditation is broken by a pair of slender, supermodel legs resting on your lap
Glancing over to Kronii, you noticed she has propped herself against the side of the booth, the plump leather seats and your lap are now her temporary mattress and she appears to be dozing
"Cute" you think, your attention turning to the emerald landscape outside. All of a sudden the sole of a boot taps against your cheek in a rhythmic, metronomic fashion
"Babe?", Kronii doesnt respond, eyes closed but boot still proding your face
You realise her intention and rest your hands on her slender legs, causing her boot to lower too
Her tights are soft and velveteen, her calves are perfect (of course), firm yet elegant, calves the Tudors would have undoubtedly been jealous of
Working up her left leg with one hand, you feel her shapely thighs through the fabric, your fingers gently indenting like a potter working with clay
You see the skindentation, the event horizon, her silken tight's elastic pressing on her soft supple thigh, as you pass this boundary you think you hear a gasp, but she is still faining sleep
Carressing her upper thigh like a baker effortlessly kneeding bread dough, you feel your underwear and jeans taught. A protrusion of denim nestled in the crook her her Knee.
As if it was telepathy, she pressed her legs down onto your lap, the ache and the discomfort mixed with the arousal and the primal urge. You swear you caught a wry smile in the corner of your eye from Kronii
As if your hand had a mind of its own, it had creeped up her left leg, the final hurdle, the iliac furrow, just peeking under her short skirt was teasing you.