I was maybe 20 at the time, she was much older, late 20s or early 30s. She was loosely part of our circle and we used to travel around with a band we knew to watch them live.
It was on the way back from one gig where it happened. The back row of the band’s van/minibus had 3 seats. I was in the middle with my then girlfriend on the right and this woman, Lizzie, on my left. Lizzie was single at the time I think, to me she looked like a proper grown up, she was quite a big girl, very nice in a one to one but shyer in a group. Strawberry blonde, average looks I guess, not what I would have described as my type.
So we are travelling home, everyone’s had a drink, my gf is sleepy. Lizzie has curled up so that rather that facing forward she is slightly facing me. I kind of absently put my hand on her leg, not with any intent that I can recall (she wasn’t a girl I had a thing for), but her legs were touching mine and it just seemed a place to rest my hand at the time.
She was wearing a dress to just below the knee and to my great surprise she moved it so that my hand was now on her bare leg, just above the knee. I remember how soft her thigh felt. For ages we just stayed in that position and it started to feel both strange and slightly erotic. Neither of us said a word about it. It felt kind of intimate that my hand was on her thigh and we had not spoken of it, neither of us had moved, we both clearly liked it happening.
My gf was dozing but occasionally waking up and interacting, but had not seemingly noticed this strange situation. We did have a coat draped across us. Everything about it felt illicit. Then Lizzie moved quite quickly, so that my hand slipped between her thighs on to the inside of the other leg. I went to move but she – to my disbelief – kind of gripped my hand between her thighs.
I was now higher up her leg, very close to her knickers, and she kept sort of fidgeting in her seat (including undoing the seat belt at one point) until – fuck! – the back of my hand was against her pussy. I could feel the heat through her knickers.
I didn’t look at her or speak to her at this point, but what had been stirrings became a full blown erection in my jeans. I didn’t want to break the spell. She was very gently pushing against the back of my hand and I pushed back, moving my hand a little against her but quite gently. It was like neither of us wanted to admit what was happening – to start fingering her or slip my hand into her knickers was desperately tempting, but felt like it would be too much, an admission. I did make sure my coat, which was draped over both of us, stayed in place so what was happening could not be observed.
So the journey continued with her little thrusts against me, her eyes closed feigning sleep, and me holding my hand firm against her movements and occasionally moving it slowly up and down. As we got nearer to home, she reached under the coat and squeezed me through my jeans, just once, at which I let out a low moan. That was the one moment where I felt there was an explicit acknowledgement of what had happened.
I don’t think she came, though she got quite excited in her thrusting and I didn’t either. I had the scent of her on the back of my hand when we disembarked.
Lizzie and I never spoke of that night again and nothing else ever happened between us. My girlfriend never found out, though she may have thought I came quite quickly later that night!
I still think about that incident to this day.