The Train Job, Duet, Part 1

They met on a train. In the tunnel on a fast moving maglev, as a matter of fact. She wasn’t good at geography, paid little attention to what point on a map she existed on at any given time. He had it all down pat, knew where he was, what he was, who he was always, but in the darkness as they collided the terrain he found himself pressed against had no resemblance to anything on a cartographer’s best map.

When they first touched, when their bodies connected front to front, their warm mingled breath shooshed out of them right into one another’s faces. The combined senses of touch and scent got them acquainted in a hurry, neither finding the contact unwelcome.

In fear of being tumbled to the ground by the train’s motion and lost in the darkness she could not see through, she gripped the unknown man’s right hip and strong left shoulder for dear life. For his part, the man clasped her to his broad chest after encountering a round breast with one hand in a downward sweep. As if he’d been shocked by the soft yet firm contact, his hand ricocheted away from it, arms banded her to him in reaction.

But pulling her close only served to cause another reaction in him. Her body held tightly to his, not quite flush with his, more like his left chest serving as a perch for the valley between her breasts, he felt that very clearly, her stomach and lower held against his hip. Her pubic bone was flush with his thigh, and as the train rocked, rocketed through the longest darkest tunnel in Europe, where her sex and his leg met there was a sly rhythmic slide back and forth. Their feet stood firm, especially since they stood as one, lending support to each other as the rocking continued.

She was gripped to his body now. Before they’d settled like this, her stone solid against him, safe from falling by his whole body’s grasp, his first touch had been accomplished by his hand as it swept her front in a hard caress. Even in the dark it was possible to see that his cupping her breast wasn’t intentional. How could it be, it was so brief, so soft and then gone to be replaced by his body touching her all along the front of her own.

She went thickly moist where they were connected below, flushed from her neck to her hairline at the realization that she was, that he might somehow know. Silly, he couldn’t possibly know anything that personal about her, about how she was reacting. This was temporary, would end when the lights came back, when the train’s engine pierced the tunnel’s edge dim light would slide into their corridor then brighter until they were lit like actors on a movie screen. Would he release his hold on her as soon as the light barely entered, all dim and half-seen? Or would he blessedly wait until full light, and then maybe hold her a fraction of an instant longer, long enough to look into her eyes, her face at such close range… She hoped, wanted the latter. Suddenly strongly wanted him to look at her, and she at him from this vantage.

As the train rocked and she rocked against his leg, she felt him shift slightly. The side of his body she was not nestled against tried to slide a trifle more to the right, away from her own. Contrary in an instant, she moved her right foot in the same direction, taking herself right back to where she’d been, where home was, not willing to lose the saddle her nethers rested in so comfortably and “un” at the same time. She moved a few inches too far to his right, though, and encountered his hardness, long and thick and somehow hot even through layers of clothing on two people. She envisioned him inside there, nestled in his small clothes, her mind’s eye stripping his lower body slowly, carefully to get at the secret hidden there. Hidden but urging her to find it, as indicated by the pulse and sudden thrust of it against her belly. His body stood still, disciplined, but the cock in his pants pulled toward her almost on its own.

He was wearing…boxers, she decided, nodding slightly to her own thought. Silk? The cut of his clothes, what she could feel in the dark, seemed of good quality. His hair smelled clean, fresh, of sunshine and shampoo. His skin’s odor, what she took in through the smooth skin peeking through the v-neck of his shirt where a good quantity of chest hair curled against her cheek, was pleasant, smelled of good soap and very little cologne, maybe a hint of something expensive yet subtle. She liked very little scent on a man. Wanted nothing to complicate her senses’ perceptions of him.

So, boxers. Silk. Her fingers on one hand curled at the need to touch them, then she forced the fist to unfold, fingers to flatten as she imagined sliding her hand inside his belt, not to find his skin under the waistband, but to encounter the silk-enclosed elastic of his underpants, the shush of the movement of her hand’s skin along the material a prelude to the exhale her chest was sure to make as she glided fingers down, not far to go, to fill her hand with his cock.

With a manhood as hard as what she felt at her belly, would the skin covering it be soft, suede-like, velvet over steel? Yeah. She figured it would, moaned for the first time softly at the het-up hot-fired desire blooming in her belly, the itch in her one hand so anxious to find him in its grip.

He stiffened from head to toe as a pleasured sound issued from her throat. Tilted his head down immediately nearly bumping into the top of her head in a rush to bend an ear closer to her mouth. He wanted to find out if he had heard her right. She did it again as if on cue, and he pulled her close involuntarily and gave a sigh that was half-moan in unconscious imitation of her sounds.

She tipped her head up to him, mouth so close to his now as she breathed up to him. His breath met, mingled with hers, lips a centimeter away from touching, a distance so easy to bridge that their connection, when it came, was inevitable.

She made the move to close the distance, got on tip toe to do it, couldn’t help it, no way to fight the temptation to kiss the lips of a man whose body was working so much loveliness in her own. To reach him and have room to maneuver on his mouth, she raised up on him, along him. Her crotch slid upward along his body, cul de sac of her femininity gliding all along his shaft until she stopped with it located, with the head of it located almost where her hole would be under her skirt, her high cut black silk panties.

The realization of her re-positioned nethers’s conjunction with the business end of him ripped through the man, his hips thrusting to her, urging connection with her hard and deep and now, gorramit.

The kiss he pressed on her mouth was an omen of what he wanted to come, please god, come and cum and let her come to him, let the darkness never end, this punishing torture and pleasure never see an end.

His lips were hard and soft all at once on hers. She kept her chin tipped straight up to him, mouth not changing position, wanting the first connection there to last long enough to enjoy it to the fullest before either of them slid lips slantways to try a myriad other sensations. He seemed to agree, using his lips to cup first her upper, then lower one in his own, almost biting, but not, afraid he’d scare her away.

She thought she would die if he backed away from her now, clenched his shoulders extra tight at the thought of that. Went stock-still against him in case some action of hers would prompt him to reconsider the insanity of what they were doing to each other. Now, just a scant three minutes after they had met in the dark, she was loathe to end this in its infancy.

The only movement she gave him was where her lips were held by his own, teased and swept him with her mouth, opening a little, sending her tongue-tip to meet his top lip. Slid it against the slit of his mouth, where one lip met the other.

The taste of him, the feel of his lips on her was madness incarnate, ramped up a need in her so great she thought she would die, truly would die, his breath entering her body through her mouth the only thing keeping her breathing.

The pleasure he felt where they were connected mouth-to-mouth was a frightening thing, scary because he’d never felt anything quite like this before. Had it to do with the unknown quality of it all? Was it the complete involvement of all his senses but sight, the other four of them amped up in power due to non-working sight? He didn’t know, didn’t really care, cared only for what he held in his strong arms, what the feminine and utterly charming mouth was doing to him right now. That tongue, velvet soft sliding along just at the spot where his lips would close? Thor’s Hammer, it was like a gift from god.

They moaned in unison as he took his tongue tip to meet hers, tangled with hers, sucked her into his mouth to play and tug and slant his mouth against her, wanting needing god help him having to have her this way, to have her any way, on any terms. Let good or bad come of it after they were through, if anybody was hurt by this later, let the healing of what they were doing, what they were about to do, balance it all out. Karma be damned, he would have all he wanted from this woman, with this woman.

His mouth, his tongue on hers was confusing to her senses. Why should it feel like this? Like his mouth wasn’t only here on hers, but down much further south at the same time? She scissored her thighs together slightly seeking to ease the ache he was giving her, his mouth at her lips was giving her other lips, moisture there rushing in readiness to receive whatever he wanted to give her down there.

End, Part 1

Who are these two? Got any ideas? Please feedback and let me know. More to come, but I’m actively seeking your pleasure so won’t continue until I hear from you. Tell me if you like this, like where it’s going, dong ma? Thankee sai.