From the Train (part 5)

Here is another story I wrote for a friend years ago. As with other stories I’ve written as gifts, I speak directly to the reader throughout it, keeping the action in the present tense. This is the final installment. See the others if you haven’t.

Part 5

For a moment, I focus on the pure sensation of your pussy wrapped around my cock. I feel the weight of you bouncing on me and I watch in awe of your ass. The whole scenario becomes immediate to me. I feel myself stirring. I speed up again, pushing myself to some physical edge in an effort to give you what you need. My hand moves around your throat. You roar much louder than you have through this entire encounter. The stirring builds. The sensation overwhelms. The excitement is too much. I want to keep going, but I also want to explode for you. With a mixture of excitement and reluctance, I warn you that I’m going to burst. You pick your head up and turn back to me with that same smirk I’ve seen all night. You tell me to go ahead. To clarify, I tell you I’m there and that I have to let go right now. Your next move completely shocks me. Without hesitation, you order me to do it inside you.

This is more than I can take. It’s so dirty, so irresponsibly hot, that I can only maintain for a few more pumps. I ask one more time for your reassurance. You demand my load inside you. You become insistent about it, repeating yourself as if chanting, urging and even begging me to stay inside you and pop. I give one last salvo of heavy thrusting, struggling not to shout. My legs almost give. My body tenses and then heaves. Shaking. Twitching. Stammering from shoulder to heel. You know this is it and you cry out for me. I finally erupt inside you. We each knew this was coming, but somehow it seems to shock us both. I fill your body in a series of gushes. You moan without any attempt to restrain your voice. I don’t even consider pulling out. This is one of the most amazing moments of my life, without exaggeration. I feel my warmth mix within your soaked pussy. Our fluids become one wet mess inside you. That warmth expands within you and you loudly express how much you needed me to give it you. I shudder audibly without realizing it. Someone had to hear me. You arch your back and slowly gyrate. We both hear the mess we made inside. Now we freeze again, but not out of fear. My arms wrap around you. Purring, you stand up slightly. I’m still inside you. I can feel hotness running down my shaft and back out of you. Sex drips down your leg as I begin to diminish. You turn and I flop out. More of what we’ve made together spills from your body. You kiss me while we both feel it running down your thigh. It drips on your knee, on your skirt, and on the floor. We giggle and snicker as another intruder enters. Just pissing, again.

Reality returns. Our laughter is hushed but genuine as we collect ourselves and take stock of what just happened. I do my best to suppress any concern over the disregard for any kind of safety. You appear unshaken. I thank you and you kiss me one more time and thank me instead. We finish straightening up—hurrying for some reason—but also taking care to wipe off anything obvious. I open the door to check if all is clear. We’re safe. I lead you out of the stall. No one is in the room, but I have you pause so I can check outside. I wait for one slow-moving codger to pass. We’re clear again. We speed out. I’m half expecting security to be waiting when we turn the first corner. Another confused-looking old man meets us, but we scurry past him and head for the stairs. No one bothers with us. Laughter echoes behind us through the terminal and towards the doors. Each stage of the evening has been remarkable, but we’re realizing just how remarkable this final coup has been. We just got away with this.

We get to the street, holding hands without really remembering who grabbed whom. We kiss and hug again and again. You assure me not to worry about anything. I assure the same, but also joke it is a little late for second-guessing. No regrets. After much lingering and more shameless public affection, we remind each other that we each have to go. I get one last look at your smirk as we break an embrace. I notice your hand had been in my pocket. I start to pull out what feels a scrap of paper you’ve slipped me, but you stop me with a light touch and tell me to read it later. Slick. You blow me a kiss, wave goodbye, and we part. I watch as you flag a cab and I take one last look at that tiny skirt stretching over your ass as you climb in the back seat. If only that driver knew. The taillights fade from me, blending with all the others leaving the station.

I decide to walk to my hotel. The air is intense and bracing. After a few blocks, I reach in my pocket for that scrap of paper. I unfold it. It’s a phone number and a message: “From the train.”

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