For almost a year, we'd been catching the same train.

Whenever you weren't there, I always wondered if yesterday was the last time.

Weekends were always dull, in comparison to weekday mornings.

We always sat facing each other, on opposite sides of the carriage.

You were beautiful.

Sexy.

We never spoke.

Just those knowing looks.

Your pussy displayed just for me.

Always moist.

That damp stain left behind, a testament to your wetness.

I couldn't wait to get to work, for privacy.

Then one day you were gone.

Never saw you again.

But, oh, those memories.