The Overnight Train

Part 1

It happened because she was so flustered. She had spent the weekend with her family, and they had driven her nuts.

Her father was always giving her a hard time about money and boys. Her younger sisters were always pestering her for advice and money and tips on how to look more like her. Her younger brother seemed to just stare at her all the time, an Internet fantasy come to life in his house.

Her mother was the most aggravating, always pestering her about finding a husband, even though she was only 20. Her mother was worried that men were only interested in her for her looks, which were, to be fair, stunning. She got lots of attention for her long, flame-red hair. She got even more for her 36D breasts, which looked spectacular and would have under any circumstances. They looked even better in the low-cut T shirts and tank tops she preferred on warm days like today.

But she got the most attention for her ass, which was curvy and shapely and firm and seemed to dominate a room. Even men who weren't especially into asses found themselves watching her. She favored jeans and shorts that showed off her heart-shaped assets, but she was never trashy about it. It wasn't her fault that she had a body that stopped traffic.

In truth, her mother was worried about the wrong thing. While men paid attention to her for her body, once she spoke they became enamored of her other charms. She had a sultry voice that invoked whiskey and cigarettes that she had neither drunk nor smoked. She was witty and unflappable and could handle everything from the most sophisticated to the clumsiest come on with grace and humor. So men weren't just interested in her body; they were fascinated with her.

And, despite the statistics and her parents' deepest fears, she was no easy mark. She had slept with exactly three men, starting on her 16th birthday and always with a steady boyfriend. She had been single for six months and was really getting to regret her attitude toward sex outside a relationship. Her favorite toys were starting to feel like boyfriends and she found herself fighting with them and then withholding sex. It was turning into a real relationship.

So as she left to head back to school, she had all these things on her mind. Her parents. Her siblings. School. And, more than she cared to admit it, sex.

Which is why she forgot her wallet.

She was rushing to get packed and make the last train of the night, an overnight from Seattle back to Chicago. She had made a reservation online but had arranged to pay cash at the station (she already had too much on her credit card), and she would have had time if there hadn't been traffic from a Mariners game. As it was, she made the train with seconds to spare and ran right to the first empty compartment she saw. She settled in, her bags on the floor next to her, and let out a long sigh of relief.

About an hour later, as her sleep had just turned to a recurring sex dream involving Justin Timberlake and a large bathtub, she heard someone talking to her.

"Miss? Miss?"

She opened her eyes and tried to focus. She wasn't sure where she was, because her mind (and her pussy) were in the tub with JT.

"I'm sorry to wake you. Do you have a ticket?"

She was finally able to focus. The conductor was standing in front of her. When did their uniforms get so form-fitting? He was probably in his early 40s, but he looked good. Solid, muscular build. Salt-and-pepper hair cut short and stylish. A stubble beard that actually reminded her of Justin in one of her favorite videos. Kind brown eyes and a very sexy smile that seemed to wake her up gently, like a lover's hug.

"I didn't want to wake you, but there was no ticket on the door or the seat. I need to see your ticket, please."

She nodded, thinking about his smile and his arms and the vague outline of a bulge in his pants. She didn't want to speak, for fear she would tell him about her dream. She fumbled in her bag and pulled out the printed reservation. She handed it to him with a smile. He looked at it, puzzled.

"I'm sorry, miss, but this is just a reservation. Did you actually purchase the ticket at the station?"

Her mistake was instantly apparent to her. Her face fell.

"I was in such a rush, I would have missed the train. I'm so sorry."

"That's no problem. I can process it here."

She went through her bag again, once, then a second time, then more urgently a third time.

"I can't seem to find my wallet."

He looked a little amused and a little put out. She wasn't sure which was more prominent. He looked at his watch.

"I have to finish my rounds. I'll be back in about half an hour. Perhaps you will have found it by then."

Then he smiled that killer smile and let himself out.

She spent the first 15 minutes confirming that her wallet was nowhere to be found. She remembered having it on the kitchen counter at home, which is probably where it still was. She spent the last 15 minutes practicing apologies and promises to send the money right away when she got to Chicago.

When the conductor returned, she was sitting in the compartment looking sad and contrite. She explained the problem in a rush of anxious sentences and finished with a promise to pay the fare and any penalties. He listened with a look on his face that she couldn't read. When she was done, he was silent for a few moments.

"Miss, Amtrak policy says that I am supposed to report you to the authorities when I put you off the train at the first available stop, which would be," he consulted his watch, "Minneapolis in 8 hours."

"Oh no, please don't do that. I can't be in trouble. And I have to be in class tomorrow in Chicago."

"You really should have thought of that back in Seattle."

"Please, isn't there anything I can do?"

He looked her up and down. He had spent a few minutes watching her when he first woke her up, and thought she was the most attractive woman on the train, maybe the most attractive he had seen in a long while. He was wrestling with his ethics and morals. And losing.

"I don't think you can. Or, I should say, I don't think you would."

"No, really. I would do anything. I just need to get to Chicago."

She had seen him look her up and down. While his eyes were on her, hers were on him. She was powerfully attracted to him, and the power relationship between them at the moment did, if she was being really honest, turn her on even more. She knew precisely what she was saying, even if she couldn't bring herself to give him one of those porn actress, fake come-hither looks.

"If you mean that..."

"I do." Her eyes were mostly cast down, but they snuck up now and again to read the look, now open, on his face.

He looked at her hard, for an uncomfortably long time. Then, slowly, he reached his hand out toward the door and locked it. He pulled the screen on the door closed.

Part 2

When he locked the door, her heart nearly stopped. She was turned on, not just by the man in front of her but by the situation she was in. He had control over her and they both knew it. She felt her chest heaving a little, and the warmth in her panties was getting intense.

"Stand up." His voice had lost its gentle quality and was husky and a bit demanding.

She stood and he looked her up and down. He made no move to touch her. He just watched her, clearly appreciating both the swell of her breasts and the raggedness of her breathing.

"Touch yourself."

She looked at him, confused. He spoke a little more gently.

"You are turned on. I want you to touch yourself for me."

She understood now, but was reluctant. She touched herself often in private, but had never been watched. She tentatively reached up and stroked the outside of her left breast. It was a feeble effort and she knew it.

"The police in Minneapolis will probably only keep you for a few days," he said, with a devilish look.

She got the point. She started to massage her breast. Instantly, the nipple got hard and was visible through the white tank top. She ran her hand over it and was surprised at how much it turned her on. She tried to make it look casual, but she wanted to do it again. Realizing that was the point, she tweaked and slightly twisted her nipple. He smiled approvingly.

"The other one," he said.

She repeated the gestures with the other nipple, then started playing with both. She was getting the hang of it. And he was clearly enjoying, as the bulge in his fitted, flat-front pants showed.

"Now..." He pointed at her denim shorts.

She hesitated, then realized her hesitation was for show. She wanted to touch herself. She ran her left hand slowly down her front to the V between her legs. She could feel the heat through the shorts, and she rubbed herself. She quickly made contact with her clit, and could feel how wet she was. Involuntarily, she closed her eyes briefly.

"Look at me," he said. Her eyes snapped open and she stopped touching herself. "No, keep going. Just keep your eyes open."

She did as ordered. Her left hand rubbed her pussy and her right hand was on her nipples. She was on fire, and so was he. He started rubbing the outline of his hard cock through his pants. He looked large, and she couldn't decide if she should look in his eyes or at his dick. She found herself doing both.

"Take off your shorts." She didn't have to be told twice. She unsnapped the buckle and wriggled out of them.

"Turn around." She adjusted her panties and turned around. She lingered with her back to him for a moment, knowing that the view of her ass was magnificent. He exhaled sharply. "Amazing."

She turned back around to face him and started rubbing again. There was a clear wet spot in the front of her panties, and she worked it. She was getting slightly weak in the knees, and he knew it.

"Take off your clothes and lay back on the seat." She removed the panties, tank top and bra in about three seconds. While she was doing it, she could see him struggling out of his uniform. His boxers were tented over a large, hard cock, which sprang out in all its glory when he pulled the shorts down. He sat on the seat opposite her.

When he started rubbing his cock up and down, she settled in to get herself off. She was fascinated as she watched him rub his hands over the length of his manhood. She had a finger rubbing her clit and one in her pussy while she watched him jerk off. She could see a small amount of pre-cum on the end of his thick, hard cock. It turned her on even more. She was playing with herself in front of this stranger and she was so close to coming.

When he started talking dirty, that put her over the edge.

"You look so fucking hot, rubbing your clit for me. You're fingering yourself to a total stranger and you're going to cum for me. I want to see you get yourself off. I want to watch you cum, staring at me jerking off and frigging your clit."

The orgasm was shattering. She almost screamed but remembered where she was only at the last moment. Still, it was so intense, she almost passed out. But she never lost contact with her pussy, and kept rubbing it. She knew there were more orgasms in her.

When she settled down slightly, she saw that he was still stroking his cock, but more slowly. He was staring at her.

"Come over here. Now."

Part 3

She got off the seat and got on her knees. She wasn't told to, but knew that would be his wish. She moved over to him and settled back on her heels. She reached out and her hand replaced his on his cock.

It felt so hot and hard. She thought how long it had been since she had felt a cock this big. She also thought how much she had missed it.

She ran her hand up and down several times, looking up at him the whole time. He nudged his hips forward, not trusting his voice, sending her the signal she needed. She leaned forward, her tongue outstretched, and licked his cock from balls to the tip. She tasted the pre-cum and felt his sharp intake of breath. His passion was stirring hers even more.

She plunged his cock into her mouth and began to give her best blowjob. She got it very wet and sloppy and was using her hands and her mouth to try to bring him off. This wasn't a warm-up blowjob, this was an I-want-to-taste-your-juices blowjob. She was in heaven (not as much as he was) at the exhilaration of it all. The randomness, the anonymity, the passion.

After a few minutes, when he seemed he might cum, he gently pulled her mouth off his cock.

"Not yet."

He pulled her on top of him, her knees on either side of him, straddling his cock. He pulled her mouth to his and they kissed roughly, passionately. They kissed for a few minutes, with his hands on her nipples and her hips rocking back and forth, rubbing his cock on her wet pussy lips. Finally, when neither could stand any more, she reached down, grabbed his cock, and aimed it in her wet, tight, pussy. She sank down with all her weight on him, impaling herself on his cock. She held it there, eyes closed, while his mouth ravaged her nipples. Then she began to rock back and forth. She didn't go up and down...not yet...but just back and forth. He was rock hard inside her and she was close to coming again.

When he slipped his hand around her and stuck a wet finger in her ass, she came. Harder than the first time. Harder than anytime ever before. She buried her face in his shoulder and bit him, trying not to scream. His cock was moving faster now, and his finger in her ass was in unison. He was close to coming and she could feel him swell even more inside her. Suddenly he stopped and pulled her off.

He picked her up and almost threw her down on his seat. She landed on her back with her legs in the air, and he grabbed her ankles and held her there. He got on his knees and started running his tongue over her wet pussy lips. He licked at her clit for a few moments, then down into her pussy. He could taste a foreign taste, a masculine taste, and knew it was his own. He ran his tongue down past the bottom of her pussy to her ass. She had never been tongued in her ass before and she instantly tensed up. Then, as his tongue circled the rim of her asshole, she relaxed a little, then a lot. She was enjoying it more than she expected to. He teased her asshole and then tongued it, getting it wet with saliva.

Finally, he stood up, keeping her legs in the air. She knew what was coming and was powerless to stop it, even if she had wanted to. He aimed his hard cock at her asshole and started to push. She bit her lip initially, and closed her eyes against the strange and somewhat painful sensation.

"Relax, babe. Just relax." His voice was again gentle, and reassured her. She made a conscious effort to open up and relax, and within seconds the head of his cock was inside her. She felt full and complete and very, very turned on. Without meaning to, she reached her hand down and started rubbing her pussy.

His strokes were slow, then forceful and fast. He was sweating a little and looking deeply in her eyes. When she tried to close them, he put his hand gently on her face and she looked back into his eyes. They stayed like this as their pace quickened and they both approached orgasm. Just as she came, he pulled out of her ass and came all over her stomach and breasts. She kept rubbing her pussy until she was spent.

He sat down beside her and they rested for a moment. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and sex. He looked at his watch.

"Seven hours to Minneapolis. I think we can find a way to keep you on the train to Chicago. If we use our time wisely."