On a business trip last summer, I took an overnight train from Copenhagen to Madrid. I was booked in a second class cabin. I was sharing the cabin with an attractive young couple. When I arrived outside the cabin, I could hear them inside arguing about something. When I opened the door they stopped, but the tension was still there.
As the train got going, we started to chat. They both seemed happier to talk to me than to each other. I learned he was from Norway, she was from Spain. They had been in Oslo visiting his family, then in Copenhagen visiting friends, and were now going back to Spain where they lived.
His name was Christof, tall, fit, standard Scandinavian, seemed like an OK guy.
Her name was Isabelle. She had a hard little body, like a gymnast. She was wearing a sun dress so small that it barely covered the tops of her thighs. She had olive skin and long dark hair and big brown eyes, high cheekbones and full lips that made me think of a feather pillow. She was obviously not wearing bra and her small, perky breasts stood up firm against the thin fabric of the dress, nipples protruding just a little. When she spoke she rolled her "r's" and stretched her vowels in that sexy Spanish way.
The cabin had four bunks, two on top two on bottom. The bottom bunks doubled as seats and had a table between. Each compartment had a door and was completely enclosed from the outer corridor. Isabelle and I were sitting across the table from each other, both of us next to the window. Christof was sitting to her left, closer to the door of the cabin.
From the moment I sat down, I had a feeling, the kind you can't really explain why you have, that she was attracted to me and would have jumped at the chance to try me out.
Christof felt the sparks as well. As we talked, I could see he was getting a little tense. He was touching her too much, the way guys do when they are feeling insecure about their girl.
Eventually Isabelle suggested we play cards. I pulled a bottle of whiskey from my bag to share and we settled into a game.
Over the course of about an hour we played several hands and drank the whiskey. Christof and I were drinking two glasses to her one, but Isabelle was half our size, so I was not surprised to see her starting to get drunk. As she did, her eyes lingered on me a little too long, and her foot occasionally brushed my leg under the table.
It did not take long for the tension between them to resurface. It became obvious when she made the cryptic remark, "You know Christof, this whisky tastes like red wine."
He snapped back, "Drop it. Please."
"And you know this chocolate, it tastes like red wine too. How could that be, do you think?" she said.
"Please drop it. It was your fucking imagination," he said, a little too sharply I thought.
She smirked at him in response and turned her attention back to me. From then on, she made occasional off hand comments about red wine. It obviously made Christof uncomfortable but I was left in the dark.
Around 11PM we finished the bottle and Christof wanted to call it a night. But Isabelle, now clearly drunk, was having none of it. She demanded that he go to the dining car and buy another bottle. With some prodding, he eventually went. She followed him out.
She got back first and had what appeared to be a little ball of black lace in her hand. She flipped her sandals off, stepped up onto the seat across from me, and reached for her bag which was stowed above the bunks. The way she was standing, up on the seat, leaning forward and stretching her arms up to the bag, her dress pulled up, exposing her ass. I could see that she was not wearing panties. I immediately went stiff. She was just climbing down as Christof came back in with the second bottle of whisky.
When his back was turned and gave me a long, lingering look, full of mischief. Clearly, she had intended for me to see.
We cracked the second bottle and Isabelle announced that she wanted to change the game. She wanted to play hi-low, with the lowest card of each hand doing a shot. Christof said that was a stupid idea. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a stern look. Finally he backed down and agreed to play.
She declared herself the dealer, filled all our glasses half full, and we started to play. Christof lost three hands to each one I lost. Curiously, she never lost. After a while Christof was complaining about his luck. He was too drunk to realize that she was dealing him low cards off the bottom of the deck.
As the game progressed, she was more and more brazen with her flirtation, at one point under the table briefly burying her foot in my crotch and stroking my cock with her toes. I was enjoying the attention but did not dare to reciprocate with her boyfriend sitting right beside her.
It took us a little less than an hour to finish the bottle. By the end, Christof was swimming. In contrast, Isabelle seemed almost sober now, which made me wonder if she had ever been quite as drunk as she seemed. She declared that she was ready for sleep, and sauntered out to the bathroom. Christof, swaying, prepared the bottom bunk for their bed.
I went out to use the bathroom. I was waiting at the door when she came out. I have to admit that there were other open bathrooms and I was waiting at that particular door not without some bad intentions. The door opened, she did not seem surprised to find me standing there. She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow, almost like a challenge.
The cabin beside the bathroom was unoccupied. I took her by the hand, led her inside, and pulled the door shut behind us.
Without a word, she slithered down my front on to her knees and pulled my cock out. She licked and kissed and caressed it. I didn't think she would actually fuck me with her boyfriend a few yards away. All I expected was a little harmless fun. But the longer she sucked and licked, the more determined I became to make it happen.
I decided to tease her a bit and see just how far she was willing to go. I stood her up and spun her around so her back was to me and she was facing the edge of the table. I put her in a reverse half-Flashman, with my left hand gripping her right breast and my right hand reaching down between her legs. I could see her reflection in the glass of the train window and watched her reaction as my hand slid up under her dress and rounded her hip. She closed her eyes and leaned back into me, turning her head back to nuzzle my neck.
Obviously, I knew she was going to be turned on, but what I found down there was shocking. She was soaked, and because she was not wearing panties, she was wet all over her inner thighs. Her clit was swollen and bulging out of her lips. As my fingers slid up into her, she moaned, grabbed my hand and pushed my fingers deeper inside her. She went up on her tip toes, trying to get her ass closer to my vertical cock.
After a few strokes of my fingers up and down her clit, she slowly turned to face me. "Hmmm..." she was biting her lip as she considered me. She put her arms around my neck and pulled herself up into a sitting position on the table. She wrapped her legs around me, drawing me to her. My cock lined up on her wet slit.
Just as I was about to slide into her, she stopped me. "You can have me, but not here. Back in our cabin," she said.
"That is the last place we want to be," I said, thinking of the boyfriend. "We are fine right where we are."
She reached up and pulled my ear down to her mouth and whispered, "I want you to fuck me while he sleeps right beside us." Her voice was low and silky.
From the look in her eyes, I realized that this was more than just simple attraction and that I was a pawn in some wicked revenge scheme. "Something to do with red wine?" I asked her.
"Last night in Copenhagen we were out with some friends, mostly Danish girls. They were young and sexy and single. Christof was flirting all night with one of the girls, which was not a big deal. But then they both disappeared at the same time and did not come back for 10 minutes. When we got home I sucked his dick and it tasted like red wine. The girl he disappeared with had been drinking red wine all night."
Generally, I don't have a moral issue with helping someone get revenge; it's all the ensuing, inevitable drama that I don't like. And I found it unlikely that he would sleep through us having sex in the same room. I told her so. "He'll never know. Why do you think I got him so drunk? He'll be sound asleep til morning," she said, "and it will be super sexy – it has been a fantasy of mine for a long time."
Clearly it was a risky idea, but the combination of the whiskey and the sexy tart teasing my head against her smooth wet lips brought me around to the idea. And I must admit I did find the thought of fucking this little sex pot while her boyfriend slept a few feet away to be pretty damn exciting.
