Midnight on the Rails: A Sinful Ride

“The couple I saw earlier this morning are having dinner now. The slut is making an elaborate show of playing with his dinner sausage and raising it to her mouth.” Pausing for a moment, Alyson picked up her cup of coffee, caught the attention of the woman across the aisle, and raised her cup in salute. Setting the cup down, she returned to her journal musings.

(Hereafter, plain text indicates Al’s point of view,and italicized text indicates Jen’s perspective.)

Al looked at his dinner companion. A hint of amusement colored his face. “Are you going to put my other sausage in your mouth too?”

He was smiling. His foot was rubbing up against my leg. Like a snake, it slithered up my inner thigh, momentarily brushing up against my hand in my lap, and pushing it out of the way to strike at my weak spot. Raising his wine glass, he whispered, “To foreplay.” Between labored breaths, I struggled to join him in the toast.

As his sausage fell from my mouth to the dinner plate, we somehow managed to make a terrific mess. Silverware scattered to the floor, a wine glass crashed, but the spectacle distracted any viewers just long enough to hide the explosion between my legs.

Flushed, I leaned back and relaxed against the chair. I noticed that the passenger at the next table raised her coffee cup a second time in salute.

I helped her clean up the mess. After leaving a tip on the table, I grabbed her hand and pushed her down the aisle. “We’re leaving. I ordered strawberries with a cream cheese and yogurt dip to be delivered to my room.” We arrived at my compartment. I opened the door and held it to let her come in. “You’ve been quite naughty.” I slapped her ass as she passed me, then let the door slam shut. “On your back!”

Expecting, hoping he wanted me naked, I started to remove my dress, the lone item of clothing on me.

“No. We can send your gown for cleaning in the morning.” Lifting her legs, I bunched up the hem to push it above her hips. After smothering her pussy with the dip and strawberries, I ate dessert, but didn’t finish her. “Don’t touch yourself.” I rolled her over and slapped her ass again. “Get up.”

“I brought you on my vacation hoping to get a proper screwin’. I’m beginning to regret not letting you fuck me this afternoon.”

“Don’ be worrying M’lady. You’ll get screwed alright. But not now.”

“Have it your way. I have something else in mind anyway. Go to the observation car. I’ll come shortly.” He watched as I fixed my skirt, then pulled the top down. I shoved my breasts into his face for him to kiss them. “I’ll be the one wearing only a trench coat.”

I played with myself while I watched her pull the top of her dress back up, then disappear through the door. The exchange inspired a daydream of me of dancing with the homecoming queen: she leads me to the edge of the dance floor, headed for the exit. Stopping, she pulls my hand to her chest to feel her up and pulls me in for a kiss. She whispers in my ear, “Let’s go to my place. I’m sure you’ll like what I have to show you.” The differences was that this woman on the train was real, not a daydream.

Two couples I’d seen at dinner were still at their tables. The husbands smiled. Their wives scowled. The sign on the door to the observation car read, “ADULTS ONLY. Must be 18 or older to enter.” The Spencerian initials in the lower right corner of the sign looked to be MH.

A thick blanket of fog outside shrouded the car. It projected an otherworldly atmosphere of being in a cocoon of glass and steel. As we passed through a train yard, the ghostly lights outside revealed a backless padded bench in the room. It would work for what I needed. The bright white beam of light of an oncoming freight train swept across my chest as I removed my coat and placed it on the bench. Sitting down, I indicated that my escort was to straddle it and stand in front of me. I frantically sought out his zipper.

My client certainly had taken mama’s proverb to heart. “The good Lord gave you a mouth and expects you to use it.”

I gently bit at his sausage, before pulling it into my mouth.

Rivulets of condensed fog fled across the outside of the windows, cowering before the rushing wind. Her lingual skills transported me from the crypt of steel and glass, sending me into a strangely unrelated daydream.

I stood in a fairytale kingdom. It’s profligate monarch publicly humiliated his wife in the town square, preferring instead the bosom and bottom of a street trollop. The scorned queen smuggled me into the castle. Her gaze never strayed from my face while her royal robes fell silently to the floor. Unashamedly, she stood silently, inviting me to devour her visually. My horn stood up in respect. Her eyes, filled with anger and lust, commanded she be led to the royal bedchamber. I, her knight, moved to kneel before her, to honor her and to pay homage to the royal cunt. Halting me with a lifted hand, she dropped to her knees. Reaching for my sword, she slid it out of its sheath. Reciprocating the honor, I accepted the gleaming gems adorning the smooth firmness of her unfettered breasts and raised them to my mouth.

Flashes of red light penetrated into my fantasy world, warning of danger ahead. The fires of my desire were dampened by thoughts of being discovered. Punishing arrows of accusation whistled through the air for violating the queen in her bed. The knight’s armor, only moments ago polished by the queen’s tongue, lost its shine, and lay in shame, tarnished by fear. I abandoned the gifts of my queen’s sensual treasures. My legs began to buckle. My fingers clawed at her shoulders in an attempt to steady myself.

The fantasy of the queen’s castle and of her bed, and of lapping up honey from the royal fountain, fled before the reality of the lurching car as it rushed headlong across the rails and through a switch. I swayed from side to side.

He was desperate to come to the fellatio finish line. Instead of the ordered sliding of his penis along my tongue, it thrashed in chaos, at times rushing headlong into my throat, slamming at the soft palate, or punching my cheeks like an undisciplined boxer. Bits of pubic hair were strewn about my face and getting caught in my eyes. Threads of saliva and pre-cum laced my chin. His brain, conflicted with the need to prevent his knees from buckling and losing his balance, failed to bring about the sustained, coherent state of arousal. His rod fell out and rested in my cleavage. Silky threads of his pre-cum fell from my mouth to my belly. His erection had faded a bit in the instability, flopping about aimlessly in the air or against my chest.

I was not about to be denied a drink from his fountain. I rose, telling him to lie down. I stood at the end of the bench next to his head and bent over him. My breasts, hovering above his eyes, commanded his brain to harden the erection again. His fingers groped for my tits when my mouth closed over his penis. He hardened again and within moments, his semen exploded into my mouth and down my throat with the power of waters surging through a breached dam.

After a few minutes of recovery, I grabbed at a breast and pulled it to my mouth. One hand clutched at her ass. Our train entered a tunnel. My fingers slid past her vulva, as silent as the smoke billowing from the locomotive. Rushing wind whistled by. Bleating horns blared out warning as boxes of aluminum and steel barreled through blackness. Steel wheels screeched on curving steel rails, throwing showers of sparks into the dark voids. The cacophony of noise eclipsed the climax elicited by my fingers in the confines of her vagina.

My escort took me back in his room. He spanked me, though not as harshly as earlier. Kneading my mound. Tracing the outline of my vulva. Pulling my lips apart. Staring wantonly at my anxiously waiting vagina. The train entered another tunnel with a whoosh. Pulling at my legs. Finally. Mercifully. Rushing into the vaginal tunnel, a whoosh of pleasure escaping his lips. His grunts. Out. Steamy sounds of my moans. Relentless. Fierce. Carnal. Joy. The train sped out of the tunnel and sped across the moon lit plain. He interrupted his screwing, to pull out and drag his penis through my soft pubic hair, wiping off my pussy nectar and his own pre-cum. The train sped into another tunnel, intent on arriving at its destination.

His sausage thrust itself into my tunnel. His screwing resumed, deep within my being. The thrusting slowed, easing into the destination.

Did you like this story? Midnight on the Rails: A Sinful Ride look, but like these, here Hot hot sex story.