Pleasure Train

Holding hands, Jack and Sarah ran shivering through the cobblestoned streets of Quebec.  Large snowflakes drifted in the cold night air, laying a soft blanket of white powder on the stone walls and buildings of the magnificent old city.  The sounds of laughter, violins and clinking champagne flutes faded with each stride as the Chateau Frontenac became just a dark shadow and a warm memory behind them.  As they raced along le Boulevard du Champlain towards the train station, they laughed aloud at their circumstances.  “One last dance, we won’t miss the train”, Sarah had said.  Against his better judgement and under the influence of several martinis, Jack had agreed.  Having met Sarah only a few hours before, he wanted squeeze every last moment out of the evening before the long train ride home. 

Relieved, they hopped onto the train just as it sounded its final whistle before leaving the station.  They held hands and walked towards the back of the train as it jerked and then slowly began crawling forward.  They made their way through cars filled with boisterous, intoxicated travellers still basking in the New Year's Eve celebration.

“Where are we going?” asked Sarah with a suspicious smile as they neared the back of the train.  It had now been several cars since they had seen anyone else.  As an executive with the company that manufactured this train, Jack knew his way around.

“The dome car,” Jack replied while punching a code into the electronic key pad below the door handle.  He pushed through the door.  “And here we are.” 

Sarah surveyed the car.  The darkness of the space was broken only by the rhythmical flashes of light from the street lamps flying past the windows outside the speeding train.

“This is the bar car,” she said, looking around the empty room which was obviously closed for the evening.  The movement of the train, which was now at full speed, caused the glasses and bottles behind the bar to rattle, filling the car with sound.

“Yes,” Jack replied, “the dome is upstairs.  What is your favourite liqueur?”

He reached behind the bar and retrieved the bottle Amaretto she pointed to.  They climbed the narrow spiral stairs to the second story of the car. 

The upper level was made almost entirely of glass.  They stood silently and took in the lights of the city as the train weaved its way West, towards Montreal and then Toronto, their respective homes.

Jack moved in behind her and pressed himself softly against her back.  She felt him touch her hands and then wrap his fingers around her own.  She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck and then his lips as he pressed them against her, just behind her ear.  A soft gasp escaped her throat and her heart began to race.  She leaned her head back exposing more of her neck to his mouth and his soft kisses grew firmer and more fervent.

He released one of her hands and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her backwards so she was pressed firmly against his body.  She pressed her free hand against a cold frosted window, to hold herself steady in the racing train. 

Feeling dizzy from the heat and alcohol, she reached for the window latch and pulled it open, allowing a cold wind to blow into the car.

When she turned to face him, he was opening the bottle of Amaretto.  Surprising herself, she grabbed it from his hand and took a long hard swallow of the thick almond liqueur, allowing some of it to splash on her chin, trickling down her neck and the front of her blouse. He kissed her hard on the mouth, tasting the sweet liquor, but she wanted his mouth lower, to taste the sticky syrup that had dampened her lacy black bra.

He looked into her eyes, she wanted more, just as he did. Before he could act, she pushed him hard into one of the bench seats and moved towards him.  She looked down into his eyes and slowly unfastened the belt of her long wool winter coat.  She opened it wide, without taking it off and then reached down slowly and lifted her skirt just high enough so she could straddle him on the seat.

She was in charge.  Sitting on his lap, her mouth exploring his neck, his face, his lips.  She enjoyed the feeling of being in control, being dominant, assertive.  He reached up to touch her and she pushed his hands away and shook her head.  With a wry smile, she looked into his eyes and began to unbutton her blouse. Not taking her eyes off of his, she let her shirt fall open revealing a delicate bra, which covered only a small portion of her beautiful breasts.  He reached for her again and again she pushed him away, still smiling coyly.

She unclasped her bra, holding it there for a moment, teasing him.  Finally, she allowed it to slip from her fingers, but she cupped her hands over her breasts, massaging them lightly, still hiding them, making him hot.  She could see the heat in his eyes and it made her want him even more.

Slowly, she moved her hands exposing herself to him.  Her dark nipples stood out, hard from both her excitement and the frosty air that was quickly chilling the air around them.  She reached for the bottle of liqueur and tilted it enough to dip her finger.  Still staring in his eyes, she rubbed her two index fingers together, wetting them before touching them to her nipples.  She threw her head back and let out a soft moan as she lightly pinched them between her finger tips.

Pushed to the point of breaking, Jack grabbed her at the waist and pulled her towards him. Sarah didn’t fight it.  He closed his mouth over one nipple and then the other.  Each flick of his tongue sent a charge through her body.  His hands massaged her legs just above the knees, sending warm tremors up the inside of her thighs.

She pulled herself from him, gaining control again.  She reached into his lap and undid his belt buckle.  Her fingers worked quickly to open his trousers.  She released his hard cock and held him firmly.  Falling to her knees in front of him, she began to stroke, slowly at first, never averting her eyes from his.  He seemed to harden with each stroke, up and down, faster and faster she pumped him.  Still looking in his eyes, she tasted him with her tongue, then her lips and finally her mouth engulfed his throbbing manhood.  As he became wet with her saliva, her grip loosened and her strokes slid across his skin. Jack threw his head back and moaned, trying to remain in control.

With one hand still holding him, she used the other to reach beneath her skirt and pushed aside her now damp panties. 

As the train continued to jolt their bodies from side to side, Sarah carefully positioned herself above him, closed her eyes and then dropped forcefully, filling herself with him.  An uncontrollable sound leapt from her lungs, but it was lost beneath the sounds of the hurtling train. 

Maintaining her control over him, she directed the movement.  She leaned into him, one arm on each side of his head, she grasped the top of the seat behind his head and used it to brace herself as she began to move her hips. She kept her eyes closed to focus on the sensation, getting lost in herself, feeling the exhilaration of the moment.

Almost immediately, a heat began to build from deep inside her.  It began as just a flicker of warmth, but grew hot.  Before long, her entire body was wet with its intensity.  The rhythm of her movements changed, first more slowly to tease the sensation, to allow it to grow more intense.  Then, as it grew almost beyond her control, she lost all sense of her own movements and began to simply drop herself, in violent thrusts, over and over and over.

Just as the first tremor began to ripple through her body, his strong hands that had been holding her lightly, allowing her to set the pace, grabbed her firmly at the hips and thrust her down, still inside but to a complete stop.  Bewildered, she opened her eyes and saw the fierce expression on his face.  She was just a moment, a movement from total release but he held her from it.

But then she realized there was movement, not from him or her, but from the train as it charged along the track.  Not just the simple movements that her legs and hips could create, but complex vibrations, shudders and pulses. Unpredictable in their cadence.  She understood.

Closing her eyes, she sat still, giving herself over to the charging train.  At first the sensation eased, but then just as quickly it was back.  She wanted to thrust herself against him, to coax her body to a total release, but he held her too tightly.  But then it came, a small warm spasm splashed thorough her.  Just as it faded, the train shook hard as it veered through a corner in the track and another orgasm hit her unexpectedly.  This time it was stronger, more dramatic and it didn’t weaken.  Instead, as the vibrations of the train grew stronger, rather than dissipating, the orgasms grew one on top of the other, gaining momentum, ripping through her.  She couldn’t catch her breath. They came again and again, ravaging her body.  She was lost in a storm.  Her entire body was throbbing, soaked in perspiration and just when she thought she might blackout, the euphoric flood coursing through her emptied and she collapsed on him.  Her chest heaving, her body drenched, her thighs cramped from exhaustion, she lay against him, shattered.

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