A drop of sweat on my cheek briefly soothes but is quickly chased away but the heat of my flesh. Up on your hands, I'm fascinated with another droplet as it courses down your neck and drifts ever slower onto the swell of your breast before resting, pooling at the tip of your nipple. It pearls and stretches as if clinging, reluctant to leave the apex of its short life, before it loses its grip and drips onto my chest.
Its flight from you aided in large part when you raise your right hand, and the abrupt swing forward to slap me across my face. The relief of that first drop already long forgotten as you add another refresher to the warmth you've laid there. Although the movement does brings with it another spray of sweat, another brief reprise.
Your hand lowers and your hips drive forward, piercing me deeply again with the long, fat dildo extending before your mound. You hold there a moment, looking down on me, before withdrawing most of the way out of me again.
"Tell me what you want."
I hear the words but they don't register as a question to me. Instead, I'm again intrigued with the shine of your body and my search for the next drop that will find me.
I do moan, however, when you thrust forward again and fill my pussy with your 'cock'. The cock you've been fucking me with for the last half-hour, that you teased me with for almost as long before and which you will fuck me with until you are ready to cum.
"Tell... me..."
This time the words are whispered, in short curt fashion. The curtness partly attributable to the continued thrusting, fucking of my pussy. Your pussy, your cunt. All that I am, yours.
You stoke my fire with each stretching of my pussy and, with your angle above me, the rubbing of the shaft upon my clit. My orgasm building, I try to resist it, to ward off its approach before you are ready. I close my eyes and let my mind wander back to earlier in the day.
The train to NYC was crowded and I was late. My heart pounding as I run down the stairs to the platform, the final boarding announcement ringing off the aged brick and faded glass of the dark stairwell. The conductor gives me a tired, bored look as he points to the nearest car door, barely pausing for my foot to leave the platform before giving the all-clear wave to the engineer.
Clutching my overnight bag, I sway left and right on my heels as the train begins to move and I work my way down the car. My joy at not missing the train replaced with apprehension at finding a seat. An open seat faces a toddler and his mother, another is between two middle aged men reading their papers, leaving me starting to despair over which might be the lesser evil on this long trip.
The conductor brushes me aside as he begins to collect tickets, mumbling the next car has a few more seats. His head jerks backwards, indicating the last car, and I turn and bounce against the rows of seats as the train rocking picks up along with its speed. Its a struggle to get through the vestibules but its worth it as soon as I spy the two empty seats towards the rear. Damning my heels, I finally reach the open spots and toss my bag on seat by the window and taking the aisle.
This car has facing seats allowing a small group or family to sit together and hold a face-to-face discussion. Its in one of these that I find myself, with two women looking at me from the opposite side.
"Oh, hi. I hope you don't mind," said with the dread of someone who hopes and prays they don't. "I can't face another hunt for a place until I at least catch my breath and bearings."
The older of the two isn't sure whether to object to my presence or not but I'm saved by the younger woman. "Its OK, please stay."
"Thanks," and I rest back into the hard leather of my seat. I look out the window at the passing scenery and collect my thoughts. Three hours if all goes well, meet you at the terminal, dinner then...? I must have smiled and. as I turn back to my involuntary traveling companions, they return my smile.
"I'm Jenny and thanks for letting me join you. I almost missed the train and was panicked when the first car was full. Plus, these are not made for walking on a moving train." I extend a foot and twist my ankle around, happy to get to show off my new heels.
Unlike me, they are dressed for a long morning on a train. Instead of my skirt and heels, they sport shorts and flip-flops, younger, and sandals, older. After paying due respects to my new slingbacks, we settle in and begin to get to know one another. Soon we are chattering like old friends with a comfort that is unusual for me with people I've just met.
I tell them that I am on my way to the City for the weekend, to visit with a friend, shop and do some touristy things. Leaving out, that the visit will lead to bed and long nights and portions of the day devoted to sex.
They are likewise off to New York for the weekend, having tickets for the theater and the Museum of Modern Art. Their own relationship is a bit unclear. At first, I thought perhaps they were mother and daughter or aunt and niece but neither was mentioned and, on closer inspection, the age difference may not be that great.
The time passes and we reach a point where the three of us fall into a comfortable silence. Magazines and novels appear with short periods of reading intermixed with the occasional question or comment. I've gone back to gazing out the window and have moved closer to it, which allows me to view my companions in the weak image reflected on the glass.
Peggy, the younger woman, is directly across from me and has been flipping through a Vogue. But now as my attention is toward the outside, I catch her lowering the magazine an inch and pretending to examine it while instead she is examining me. In the glass, I watch her, watch me with my smile returning at my little game.
Her friend Sandra clears her throat and Peggy resumes reading her magazine, but not before giving her a chastised look. Several minutes go by and Peggy is once again peeking at my legs. And so is Sandra!
Feeling wicked, I change my game and close my eyes as if I'm falling asleep. Slowing my breathing to a deeper and more measured pace, I slump a bit against the side of the car. My legs parting a bit as I do.
My mind has both women looking at me freely now. Sneaking looks together, maybe even trying for a glance up my short skirt! As I play with this imagine, I can't help myself and my nipples start their steady rise even though my light top and bra will offer little cover.
I keep up my ruse as long as I can, until I finally have to know if my sordid thoughts had any merit at all. I crack my right eye a hair then a bit wider. I find them doing exactly as I had hoped, and more.
In the rear, half of the car is taken up by a bathroom and an electrical control room. This leaves no one directly across from us. With Sandra and Peggy facing back, except for the tops of their heads, they are hidden from view. Taking advantage of this, they are free to view me and allow careful exchanges.
I find them holding hands with Peggy's head slightly tilted upon Sandra's shoulder. Sandra's thumb gently moves back and forth over Peggy's wrist and palm. Afraid that I will give myself away, I close my eye again.
Every sound magnified now. Straining to hear any movement or word while still playing the dozing innocent girl. With each passing minute, doubting that I am fooling them or me.
Nipples at full attention, they must either know that I'm aware of them or they must think I'm having a very naughty dream. I chance another peek of my own and stifle a gasp. Sandra's hand now caressing the upper part of Peggy's thigh and Peggy's displaying obviously enjoyment of same while her eyes move from my legs to my breasts.
I decide that I can take it anymore and stretch as if stirring from a deep slumber. This to give them a moment to compose themselves if they wished. Blinking my eyes as I extend an arm up, a movement that only serves to accentuate the hardness of my nipples, I give them a smile.
