Train Riding in the Wrong State

Trina knew she was breaking the law by being on this train. By being in this state. She was supposed to be in the next state over. The law had said she wasn't allowed to leave it. But here she was, on the last express train at 11:20 PM, watching the clock, watching her phone nervously as the GPS dot that represented her moved closer and closer towards the state line. Forty more minutes, and she would be safe.

She had gone to visit her mother, even though her mother didn't even know who she was anymore. It had been months since the DUI, and she wanted to show her mother what she had become since the last arrest. Sober. Healthier. She had even quit smoking. She was in AA, had gained weight, had gotten a job and dumped her old loser drinking friends. It had been months since she broke a law, and what used to be a regular part of her life was now making her sweat bullets. She knew if she was caught over the state line she would be put in prison, but now she was so close.

37 minutes until she was back in her state.

She was almost alone in the train carriage. The only other person was a man across the aisle from her, dead asleep with his hat over his face.

32 minutes and the train stopped at the next station. No one got on, except a bored man in uniform who checked her ticket without even glancing at her face. She stared at her open book as he woke up the sleeping man to ask for his ticket, but she couldn't focus on the words. The uniformed man got off, and the train slowly started back up again like it had never stopped, but this time without the man's snores.

30 minutes, and she turned a page. She could feel the once sleeping man staring at her, but she didn't turn her head to look at him.

29 minutes.

She jumped slightly as the man sat down next her. She hadn't even heard him get up, and suddenly he was in her space, and before she could stop herself she turned to look at him. He looked vaguely familiar, but she didn't know why. His dark eyes were drilling holes into her, and his black hair was pushed away from his sharply defined place. He was wearing a t-shirt despite the chill on the train, and she saw tattooed biceps bulging under the thin material.

"Bad girl," he said softly, and a chill ran down her spine at his words and the glee he had said them with. "Bad, bad girl, Trina."

"Do I know you?" she asked, trying to sound more confident than she felt. He tore his eyes away from her, looking forward with a small smirk.

" 'Hi, I'm Trina and I'm an alcoholic'," he said in a cruel impression of her high voice. " 'I'm on probation and I can't leave the state'."

Her blood ran cold. AA. She knew him from AA. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she couldn't think of anything to say to him.

"Once a bad girl, always a bad girl, huh Trina?" he asked. He had stopped impersonating her now, and his deep voice washed over like a bad dream.

"I'm not-" she managed to choke out, and he just laughed. His huge hand drifted over to her knee, and even as she shrunk away from him he squeezed her thigh.

"I've heard you speak in AA," he reminded her quietly. "I know what you used to get up to. Such a bad girl. Letting those men climb all over you for a drink or a place to sleep."

"I don't do that anymore," Trina said desperately. His hand was moving up her thigh, and his large body was blocking her in, trapping her against the window and the back of her seat. "I'm not like that anymore. I'm sober now."

"You can take the alcohol out of a slut, but a slut is still a slut," he told her, still smirking. "You told those stories about those pathetic men in AA who would pump into you like you were ashamed, but we both know that you loved it."

"No," she denied, trying to squirm away, but she was trapped, there was nowhere to go and his hand was moving further up, it wouldn't be long until he ran out of thigh.

"You look so much better now to, with that extra weight," he said. "Back then you were so skinny and sick looking, but I still got hard when you told us about waking up to men you didn't know raping your slutty little cunt. You wanted me to get hard, didn't you? You were just teasing the room."

"No," she said again.

"So skinny back then," he said, almost to himself. "You didn't have these yet."

His hand left her thigh, but only because it had moved up. She grabbing the bottom of her shirt but it was too late, he was roughly yanking it up and he was stronger than her. Her pale pink bra was revealed.

"Still small," he said critically. But that didn't stop him from pushing the bra up to, grabbing her wrists in one hand to stop her fighting him. Her breasts were now in the open, her nipples hardening in the cool air. With the hand that wasn't holding her wrists captive, he began to maul at her exposed breasts, cruelly squeezing and pulling her nipples until she was gasping in pain.

"Is this getting you wet?" he asked her.

19 minutes to the border.

It was the first time she had been touched since she got sober, something she realized with dawning horror as he shifted to trap one of her legs between his body and the train seat, forcing them open and straddled around him. Her wrists and leg were now caught, and there was nothing to stop him as he rammed his hand up her skirt, going straight for what he wanted.

There was no gentleness as he shoved her panties aside and started to paw at her exposed pussy, but there was also no pain as he slid two fingers inside of her, his passage made easy by the moisture spilling out of her.

"What did I say?" he said softly. "Look how fucking wet you are."

His fingers were pumping quickly, and she could hear it, hear her own wetness.

"You fucking slut," he chuckled. "Trying to tell me that you've changed when you're gushing for me. You think you can change? Well, maybe you can, but this cunt can't. This is a whore's cunt."

"No," she told him, but she was starting to struggle for breath. It was both panic, and the feeling of her body betraying her, starting to give into his manipulations as he skillfully ran his fingertip over her rough g-spot again and again with every pump.

"No?" he laughed. "Do you see this?"

He pulled his hand out from under her skirt, showing her his glistening fingers. With a cruel smile, he wiped them over her face.

"It seems like you like my fingers," he told her, raising his hand to smell the finger, making her cringe. "Are you saying you don't want me to finger you anymore?"

"No, I don't," she said, almost crying. "Please, no more."

"Fine," he said to her surprise, shrugging. "No more fingers."

He dropped her wrists, but her relief turned to horror when his hands dropped to the front of his pants, unzipped to free the massive bulge pressed against the denim.

"No!" she cried out, and he grabbed her hand again as he pulled down his pants, his cock pointing at the ceiling.

10 minutes to the border.

"No fingers," he told her in a mock serious tone.

He was so much bigger than she was. He didn't even seem to notice how much she struggled as he forced her to stand and manhandled her onto his lap, shoving her skirt up so only her panties protected her as she was shoved down against him. Panties that he roughly ripped off, and dropped on her now empty seat.

9 minutes to the border.

She felt the tip of his cock prodding at her, and then he found his way. He wrapped his arm around her waist, trapping her arms as he slowly pushed inside of her and she cried out as she felt him fill her. She felt herself start to cry.

8 minutes.

He was lifting her up and down like she was weightless, forced her to slide up and down his cock. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he grunted below her, groaning every time he forced her hips down and raised his own, thrusting himself more deeply into her.

7 minutes.

He was going faster now, slamming her up and down like she was doll, her tits bouncing with every violent stroke.

6 minutes.

His hands held her hips so hard it hurt and she grabbed the edge of the seat in front of her to stabilize herself.

5 minutes.

4 minutes.

He wasn't slowing down at all, and she wondered how long he could go at this speed.

3 minutes.

2 minutes.

No matter how hard she fought it, she felt her body reacting, a stirring in her lower belly. The tip of his cock had been hitting her g-spot with his deep thrusts and she felt herself starting to respond.

1 minute.

He paused when her phone chimed, and he let go of her hips, one of his arms wrapping around her again to trap her as he searched for her phone in her bag.

"We're over the border, bad girl," he told her. He was panting slightly. "Looks like you're safe."

He laughed when she tried to struggle away from him.

"Not quite yet," he told her in a teasing tone. He wasn't moving her, but his cock was still deep inside of her as he held her captive on his lap. "We still have twenty minutes until the next stop, and you're not totally safe until the stop after that."

He was right. If she got caught at the next stop, they would know she had been out of state.

"And I think," he said, still right in her ear. "I think that next stop might be where I get off and get my face on some security footage. Just in case you decide you want to tell anyone about our fun."

Her heart sank. If she were going to report him, she would need to admit she had gone out of state. He had taken away her options.

He laughed softly into her ear, and started to grope at her breast, pinching the nipple. He bit her earlobe, and she shivered.

"But we had fun, didn't we?" he taunted her. He started to move slightly, gyrating in his seat, reminding her of where his cock was. "I did, at least. And look at that. We still have twenty minutes."

She let out a sob, and he laughed.

She expected him to just shove her down and violate her again. She expected him to force her, sobbing, to use her body like it was a cheap sex toy. But he didn't just start his rough thrusting again. He actually shifted, pulling his cock out of her, letting her sit more comfortably.

His hand moved from her hip, trailing down her leg to move up her skirt and find her clit. He started to rub it slowly, his breath still in her ear.

"How long has it been since someone made you feel good?" he asked her. His teeth brushed her earlobe and she tried not to shiver. "How long has it been since someone made you feel like a woman?"

It had been a long time, and his fingers were dancing. She tried to stop herself from shuddering, but she couldn't as his skillful fingers pressed against and circled her clit. He figured out from her tensing body that she had a strong reaction from being rubbed along the left side of her clit and he took advantage of that, gasping with her as he rubbing hard in the right places, places even some of her former lovers hadn't cared about.

"Forget where you are," he whispered into her ear, his raspy voice even deeper in his arousal. "Forget where you are, and forget who I am and just be a woman. Be the little slut you have wanted to be, the little slut you haven't allowed yourself to be."

He moved his other hand down and now both hands were under her skirt. One continued the abuse on her clit, and the other hand focused on her soaking wet hole, two of his fingers sinking in to rub her g-spot. She moaned in his lap, twisting, trying to get away from the ecstasy he was creating.

"Do you feel good?" he asked her.

She moaned in response. She couldn't find the words even if she had wanted to use them.

"How long has it been since you've been fucked like you should be?"

She replied before she could stop herself.

"Eleven months."

His fingers paused for a second and she groaned in frustration. She was so close...

"Do you want to get fucked?"

She didn't even have time to answer before those fingers achieved their goal and her orgasm hit her like a train. She buckled against him, writhing as she came.

"I can just to that again or we can have a proper fuck," he said into her ear as she went limp.

16 minutes until the next stop.

She couldn't answer, and after a minute of her panting silence he took control again, moving suddenly so that she spilled into the seat on her back, her legs hanging over the edge. He positioned himself in the aisle and spread her legs, looking at her face as his fisted his cock twice. When she only blinked back at him, he grinned and positioned his cock at the entrance of her cunt.

They both moaned as he thrust into her. Unlike the first time, this time he was more careful, and seemed to focus more on her. Twice he stopped fucking her to pull out and lean over, his tongue brushing her clit before he sat up and thrust into her again. He was prepping her, preparing for that final movement when he pinched her clit and pushed himself deep into her.

They came together, her pussy clenching so tightly he was almost forced out.

3 minutes until the next stop.

He pulled out and they both groaned at the movement, both now over-sensitive after their orgasms. He wiped off his cock on the inside of her skirt and pulled his pants up, letting her rest for the couple of seconds it took his to get everything back up and zipped. Then he reached for her, pulling her into a seated position and pulling her skirt down. He yanked the ripped panties from under her and tucked them into his pocket, and then found her book on the floor and handed it to her, open at a random page. He surveyed her before he left, as if to make sure everything was in order.

He paused before he turned to leave.

"Keep going to AA," he told her. "It really works. And I think, in the future, you should sit in the back."

He grinned at her, and patted the lump that was her panties in his pocket before turning and walking away to wait by the door.

They were silent for the last minute before the train stopped, Trina pulling herself together just in case someone boarded.

When they finally pulled into the station, he turned and waved goodbye with a smile and then strutted out, turning up his face, she knew, to find the security cameras.

No one else boarded. When the doors shut and the headed to the next stop, she knew she was back safely in state. If it weren't for his cum soaking into her skirt, and her pain, she would have celebrated getting away with it scot free.

Instead, she started to countdown the minutes until the train arrived in her city, at her stop, and she could go home and masturbate to the memory of what had just happened. Forgo her vibrator and just use her fingers, imaging that they were his and she was back on the train. At least until the next AA meeting, when it would be his fingers again and her imagination could give way to reality. But for now, she just wanted her shower and the privacy of her room.

She checked her phone and calculated how long it would be.

31 minutes to go.