She gasped as the younger woman took command and pulled her back towards her. Her throat was dry as she wondered what the girl would do today. What was<i>she</i>doing? What had gotten into<i>her</i>? Here she was at her age lewdly making out in a train car on her way to work. She had sex before of course, had had a husband until when  one day he just walked out of her life. They had had sex, sex where she initially faked her orgasm until he stopped faking that he gave a shit whether she had one or not. But she had never had sex with a woman before, not because she thought it was weird or gross but she had never thought about it. Why not she wondered now, why ever not? It felt so right, so good. Or did it feel that way because of where they were doing it? Because of the anonymity? Greedy hands grasped her soft, somewhat sagging breasts, squeezing her flesh, pinching her nipples so hard it hurt. Oh god, pain felt good? Yes, she said mentally, do that again, when you pinch and twist. She felt her open her blouse, her face flushed from embarrassment but no one noticed, faces were bent towards digital devices and papers, a few books here and there, or faces with eyes closed with fatigue. She was breathing harder now as the hands scooped out her fleshy breasts, and oh she shook with need, skin on skin.... the feeling of those warm hands on her breasts. She sobbed with pent up need, she wanted more, needed more. Her hand went up to trap the hands against her, feeling the taut young skin, strong young bones. But the hands had other ideas. They bounced her breasts around, smacking them audibly against each other until they ached, an ache mirrored only by the one between her thighs. Then the hands left, she felt the young body press against hers, felt her hands move over her belly, felt the woman lift her skirt. 'Yes,' she thought, 'oh god, what am I doing, yes touch me, explore me.'<br/><br/>She felt the young hands explore her stockings, right up to the garters they went, sliding along until the hem of her silky new underwear, her lace trimmed panties... She held her breath as she traced the path of those fingertips as they slid along her soft skin, skin soft and giving as the flesh beneath, long ago having lost the taut elasticity of youth. By now she didn't care if someone had been watching, she was spell bound, her reasoning gagged and silent as her body quivered with need for her touch,  'oh yes,' she said mentally, 'oh please don't stop, I need you to touch me, I need to feel your skin on mine, I feel more real right now than I have in years, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop....'