Strangers on a Train

"I would like that beer now, if I may." Heading to the kitchen, he handed her the remote for the music. "One moment."

"Remotes are men's work," she tossed it on the bed, and through the kitchen door, they commenced to argue about music, what to play. "You have to be kidding me with that shit."

"I suppose you prefer..."

"Don't say it."

He came through the door. "What?" She pushed him down onto the bed and landed on him, astride. "One word about the Fat Lady singing, and I will eat a testicle for breakfast. Spread on toast."

"You think so?" He moved quick. He was behind her, caught her wrists above her head, knee between her legs. Hard again. She moved so that the head of his cock slipped into her.

He whispered, "Tell me something about you," into the back of her neck, still holding her hands above her. "Something that tells me a lot about you."

"Well, I almost got arrested a few days ago. I would've missed my trip."

"What?" Keeping her hands pinned above her, his other hand smacked her on the ass, not lightly. "Why did you get arrested?" He spanked her again, and she knew what was coming next. "Almost arrested." She shivered, wondering how it would be. "Turn your head. Your voice is muffled in the pillow."

"You could release me."

"No. You are best restrained." Thinking what she'd look like, if he'd had the foresight - or optimism - to bring hand cuffs on this trip. And toys. Well, another time. "Why did you get arrested?"

"Almost." He smacked her again. "I was singing in Winnipeg."

"They make opera in Winnipeg?"

"Sort of." He teased her with the tip of his dick, rubbed it against her. "Go on."

"The company gave us all rental cars, ok, fine. But the weather - my god. I don't know how people live there. It snowed every single day. And they didn't give me snow tires, it was awful. Every day, I drive from my hotel to rehearsal, through the snow and ice piling up. Timid, of course, because I don't drive in New York. On the last day, ice-crusted, 8 inches of snow, here's this guy tailgating me, right up on my ass..."

"Like this?" He leaned the head of his cock against her asshole. "Oh, my god. I can't finish this story, if you do that."

"I will wait a bit." But smacked her again. She was so close to coming, her face was hot, stroking herself while he did his thing. She cleared her throat, hoarse. "I pull into a gas station, and he's right behind me. He says something shitty about tourists driving. I'm a little what the fuck, because I was told all Canadians are polite.

"His wife is in the car cradling a toddler, looking pissed off, at him, if she's sane. But anyhow, I snap back at him. "You know what? You're right. I'm not from around here, and I don't drive all that well. So for sure, it's a great idea to crawl up my ass, get me all nervous and jumpy on these slick-ass roads, with your fucking wife, and your fucking baby, in the fucking car, you stupid, reckless fuck."

"You have an aggressive streak." He backed off a bit, cupped her cheeks in both hands, admiring their roundness. Spread her open to his gaze, "You definitely will require a firm hand."

Trying to concentrate on her story, "Now he starts with the fuck you bitch, screw you whore, and all that. I give him the finger two inches from his nose, and he grabs my arm. I already have my pepper spray in hand, and I'm all, "Dude. Get. Your. Mother. Fucking. Hands. Off. Me. I swear to God I will pepper spray in you into a coma, and kick your cracker ass into traffic."

"Oh, Clementine. Language." Drawing moisture from her pussy to her asshole, he petted her there, then spanked her hard, then stroked her, soothed her skin. And then spanked her again. And soothed her. And again, alternating, entertained by her squeals and sighs.

"He backs off, talking shit about unladylike bitches, I'm probably from New York City or some shithole. This makes me laugh, because yup, but I slip on the ice and my purse falls. And, for fuck's sake, my weed falls onto the ground in front of him."

"Ups."

"Right. Now there's trouble in River City, because apparently this is the one Canadian town where they still give a shit about weed."

"You said this was Winnipeg." At her sidelong glance, he smacked her ass again. "Another pop culture reference, I take it?"

"You're going to have to fuck me, if you want to do that." Another smack, "Agreed." He pushed into her, pulling her up to her knees, her back against his chest. Pushed her own hands out of his way, and fucked her with both his hands playing in her slit, careful to avoid her clit. "Continue."

Grinding into his hands, pushing back at the cock behind her: "I can't think, I'm going to come."

"No you're not. You come when I say you may." A hand slid up her belly to a breast, pinching hard, making her squeal. "Understood?"

"Yes...yes, Oh, please. I understand."

"See? You can be a good girl. Continue."

"So he hollers over to this - literal, I swear to god I never saw one before - Canadian Mounty. Hat and everything. Mounty comes over, pissed at both of us. He has things to do probably, none of which involve setting his lunch in the snow on the hood of his car. He's ready to just give me a summons, but then it turns out it matters more if you're foreign. Cracker asshole is all happy, because Mounty hauls me off to a dumpy little office-looking building where I guess they stash people before they do, or don't, decide to arrest them. I'm all, "FUCK THAT GUY, I GET TO PRESS CHARGES TOO, RIGHT?"

Jonas laughed. "You are entertaining, when you misbehave, I will concede that." He pulled out of her, and slid down the bed. She could feel his teeth on the inside of her thigh, his beard between her legs. "Continue, please."

"Jesus."

"My name is not Jesus, either."

"I'm not the only smartass in the room. The Mounty is irritated, all, "What happened? And don't editorialize." But obviously I'm going to editorialize: "That guy was a dick. It was a pissing contest, until I dropped my w... I mean when I dropped my bag onto that weed that was already on the ground ... and he had the Trump Card."

He returned to his post, pulling her by the ass back onto his cock. "A ... what is that? A pissin contest?"

"Pissing contest."

"Is this more pop culture?"

"No, it's... you know... a pissing contest." He stopped fucking. "Oh, don't stop. It's like...a stupid fight for no good reason, usually between men, but it could be women. It carries the image of two guys pissing and whoever's goes the furthest wins. Has the longest dick. Stupid. Like one could say, 'GW Bush is in a pissing contest with the whole world.' Do you have something for this in German?"

He dropped a kiss between her shoulder blades, but didn't move. "Um, possibly 'Schwanzvergleich'. But it's not a nice word." She swiveled her hips, fucking herself with his cock. "What does it mean, literally?"

"That is a very nice sight, Maus. Play with me with your pretty pussy. It means comparing length of one's dick."

"How do you use it in a sentence?"

"It is a noun."

"Well, 'pissing contest' is too... use Schwanzvergleich in a sentence."

"You don't use Schwanzvergleich because it is a word I won't teach you." He started moving again, fucking her hard, spanking her in rhythm to his speech, it was really starting to sting, but the pleasure of the fucking was blurring her vision. "Oh, come on. Don't make me find another charming German to teach me...things."

"Oh, yes? You will do that?"

Fucking her hard, spanking her harder, her skin reddening, but then slowing down his stroke, petting her bottom, soothing the sting, the alternating making her dizzy. "You like to suck cock al fresco, you like to be spanked, it's obvious that you enjoy to have your pretty ass filled, and I have the strong feeling that you are willing to be pinned down while that occurs. I believe you wish to be made to beg for that - for any of that."

He leaned in very close - she could feel his breath in her hair. "You want to be used for pleasure." He was keeping her right on the fine edge, so close to coming. She cleared her throat, hoarse, thinking of what he would do, what she would let him do, to her. What she would do if he told her to. "Yes."

"Go on with your story." A coquettish look over her shoulder, "May I touch myself? My pussy is begging."

"You may. Be careful, though."

"Cracker dickhead is outside, jeering at me through the window. I have a bottle of soda, and I completely lost my shit and hurled it at the window. Thank god I missed. Hit the wall next to it."

"My god, you are crazy. I cannot believe this, that you are not currently in jail."

"He wasn't going to arrest me, no way."

"Did you suck his cock in an alley?"

"Well, I mean, not no. Are you the jealous type?" He turned her over onto her back, sat back on his knees, arranged 2 pillows under her ass. She rested her ankles on his shoulders and stretched. Languid, smiled at him sweetly. He laughed. Hands at her ankles, stretching her legs out into a V, her sighing with the lovely stretch of it, his cock out of her, but rubbing lengthwise up her slit, teasing her swollen clit. "Not at all, I enjoy a good story, especially if I can hear it while I'm making use of this pretty pussy."

"Mounty goes outside and runs that guy off, and comes back even more pissed off. And he's cute. You think the uniform is comical til you see it in person. He's tall, and fit, and square-jawed, the whole thing. But anyhow no arrest is even mentioned, and he's totally checking me out." He ran a finger between her cheeks. "If I had been that officer, I'd have turned you over my knee for certain." He drew it out, and in again, in rhythm with his fucking.

She managed to continue, her speech faltering as that finger flirted with her, traveling to and from tailbone to where his cock entered her. "He parks me at a desk further from the window and gets out his notebook. I watch my nemesis drive away as he takes my name, address, all that. I'm not being dragged into a holding cell, so I take that for a victory and behave as I relate the events. He says, "Are you going to calm down?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Do I need cuffs? A side eyed shrug. "I like them if you do."

He doesn't crack a smile, but his jaw relaxes. "Pull this shit again, and it won't be funny."

"How will they know it's 'again'? You're not arresting me. How will they know I have a history?"

"Are you arguing for arrest?"

"Depends who by."

"Get out of here before I change my mind."

"Wouldn't you like to have a drink?"

"Are you worth the trouble you cause?" But Jonas had pushed his finger into her ass, and she was getting too hot, too close to coming, to talk anymore. Save that part of the story for another time.

§

Fond memory though, her first spanking. The look in the Mounty's eye as he asked if she was worth the trouble stopped her mouthiness cold. That look making her breathless, she found herself, apologizing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Assessing her, tilting his head to examine her, "I think you did. I think you meant every word. I also think you want what comes next, after you open your mouth." The memory of him coming around the corner of the table, "Bend over."

"What?"

"You acted like a child out there, you're going to be treated like one." A pause. "Unless you'd rather be treated as a grown up girl, and arrested?"

"I don't want to be arrested, I said I'm sorry."

"Say it bent over."

Trying to be cavalier, putting her palms flat on the table, arching her back, on her tiptoes, giving him a coquettish look. "Fine, go ahead, pervert."

A laugh. "Takes one to know one, baby." And lifted her skirt.

Clemmie couldn't help but giggle: "Am I really getting a spanking? You're kidding with this, right?" The smack was hard enough to stop her giggling. "What the fuck?" And another. Off balance, she caught herself on her elbows. When the next smack came it was harder. "That hurts, come on."

As she tried to wriggle away, she saw the parking lot outside, the stand of Poplar trees beyond that, was not deserted after all. She saw a man strolling by, who stopped cold at the scene before him - Clemmie bent over the table, lacy panties on view and up on her high heels, taking a spanking, squirming under the hand on the small of her back. "Does it?" He spanked her again, not as hard as the last, but twice.

"Where's that mouthy little girl?" Slap. Petting the heated skin, running a finger along the seam where her thighs met, opened her legs a bit. She settled in, thinking, "I can handle this." But her giggle was a tactical error; the next two slaps were hard. The two after that harder. The hand from her back slipped between her legs, and pressed against her pussy, pulled her panties up into the crack of her ass. She was getting confused, because now the smacks on her ass were jolting her pussy into his hand. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'll be good..." A slightly lighter, but still not all that goddamned light, smack on the back of her thighs. The next one landing where her ass and thighs met, lighting her up.

She gave into it, then. As she dropped her head, she saw the man still watching them, seeing her take it. The Mounty relaxed when she did, stroking her back, parted her thighs a bit more, making room between her legs for his hand to play. Just as the feeling of his fingers slipping under the edge of the lace between her legs reached her belly, as the brush of his fingers over her clit made her sigh with pleasure, there was another smack. Openly begging, now, "Please, please fuck me." He put a finger inside, and then another. "Like that?"

"Oh, god, yes...It feels so good, but he took them away, brushed them over her clit again, "You were really bad, you know that, right? And began spanking her for real, rhythmically.

Clemmie was dizzy, torn between her stinging ass and her ready pussy. "Oh, oh, please..."

"So you want to come? Say it." He was alternating between spanking her and petting her. "You want to come while I spank your ass? Beg me for that. Say please."

"Please make me come, spank my ass...oh, please..." She ground into the hand pressing against her, gasping for breath, losing the language to beg him to stop, to not stop, she couldn't find words to beg him to let her come, to smack her ass with his fingers inside, to palm her pussy, let her rub on that hand while he did it, get her off. She almost had a sentence worked out when she lost track of a couple of tears. He relented quick; quicker than immediately. "Stand up, honey, don't cry. You'll be a good girl now, right?"

Shaky, to her feet, her skirt falling into place, stinging her ass, "Yes." The Mounty's lips were on her throat, "Say it."

"I'll be a good girl."

"This is a pretty dress." Opening the buttons, "I like a front hook, I can't lie." Then the sound of his zipper, "You have really nice tits, honey." Dropping to a chair, "Come here. Get on your knees. Lean over, let me feel those pretty tits around my cock." As he slid between her tits she licked the tip. His hands squeezing her breasts together, directing her, she let her saliva drip on his cock, as he got himself right to the edge before he stood and walked her to the window. Up against the window. His voice softer, "I see what you like. How do you want it, baby?" A polite Canadian after all. "I want your cock, oh my god, any way you want to give it to me."

His hands up her skirt, her panties in his pocket now, his cock was wet with her spit and his pre-cum. His cock was on the shorter side, but thick. Really thick. Wet as she was, she had to take a breath and relax to accommodate the girth. He took his sweet time, fucking her with a hot slow grind, enjoying himself. Every thrust pulled her clit and stung her ass. She didn't need anything more than that sweet stroke, and that guy outside, staring at them, to come.

Her nipples achingly hard against the chill of the window, she willed the guy to get his cock out. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could see his hand making its way to his zipper. And then she felt the Mounty swell even more inside her, and she was pushed hard against the glass, his stroke faster, rougher, pulling on her clit harder, chafing her poor bottom, as he groaned, "You like that? You like to be watched while you're fucked?" He pulled out, dragged a chair over, "Sit on my lap, honey, face the window - show him what he's missing." the guy outside had stopped jerking off, knowing something else was coming. Barely able to get the words out: "Won't you get in trouble? You're a cop...on duty." He laughed. "That's a buddy of mine."

She settled down onto the Mounty facing the window and relaxed into the hands on her hips, puling her up and down onto his cock. "If you pass through here again, we can all party. You'd like that, sweetheart?" She moaned, spreading her pussy open for the guy outside, she opened another button on her dress, and then another, teasing him until her breasts were completely bare, watching as he opened his pants further so he could squeeze his balls. The Mounty's stroke was bouncing her breasts too hard, so she took them in both hands and squeezed them up, nipples between her fingers, as the man outside quickened his jerking.

"Jesus Christ, you are a fucking ride, aren't you?" But then he stood, "Fuck this. You need it hard." In a flash she was bent over the table again. He fucked her punishingly but deliciously hard - pulling her onto him, withdrawing all the way and then plunging inside, and again. He pushed a finger into her ass, and then a second. "goddamn, your ass is perfect." He fingered her in rhythm to his fucking. "Shit, I'm not going to make it...this pussy is too sweet..." She felt his warmth spread, fill her, and she came, her body gripping his cock, shuddering as the guy outside spurted all over his hand.

§

Memory Lane aside, she lifted her hips to get Jonas deeper inside her. "I'll tell you about that another time. Right now, I need you to let me come. I deserve it, don't you think? I have been very nice to you."

"Maybe I will let you come." Thinking it over a moment. "Soon. Not now. This was a very long story. But I agree that it told me a lot about you."

"Yes?"

"You have no respect for authority, you are rude and thoughtless, and use bad language. You will someday cost your family a lot of money. You cause trouble." "But I'm worth it, right?"

"You will be worth it, before I have finished with you." He leaned in, wrapped her legs around his middle. "In the plus column, you have skin like milk. Heart-stopping breasts. Eyes which make promises that you keep. Lovely arse. Everything on you is round." He removed his index finger from her asshole, replaced it with his thumb. She shivered.
"You can do that, if you like." He ran his other hand down her body, slowing down in curves, like a good defensive driver. "Definitely in the plus column. Perhaps now, though, your breasts look delicious."

One arm around her, he pulled her up by the small of her back, shoulders off the bed, rubbed his cock in her cleavage. "Play with your clit while I do this. Let me see your face." His voice had roughened, it didn't feel as though she had a choice. She lifted herself to sitting, her breasts soft and inviting, leaned back on the headboard, and spread her legs under him as he fucked her tits. "Do not come, Clemmie. I have not given you permission." Straddling her, he squeezed her breasts together and slid cock between them, pussy juice and pre-cum easing the way: "You are a pretty thing. I would use you for a fuck toy if you lived here."

The thought of that, the idea of being a plaything for this man, with that accent, that controlling manner, that quiet assurance that she would be - would want to be - his toy, had her pushing her fingers inside herself, fucking herself. Watching his cock as he fucked her tits, she could see a mirror beyond his shoulder. She saw her spread legs, her fingers fucking herself. She bit her lip, trying to be obedient, barely holding off her orgasm, she switched her gaze back to him. Looked him in the eye: