“Is that…” “That’s it.” “Just lightly like this, or…” “Yes, just like that. It won’t take long.” “Are you…?” “Yes. I can feel it.” “How about if I do this?” [sharp intake of breath] “Gentle… but… ah… yes. Just like that. One finger, just right there. At the tip.” “Mmm. You’re wet. So much of it now.” “Nnn….” “A little faster, maybe?” “Yes…” “How about if I rub here, too, just behind…” “Yes, oh, God…” “Should I—“ “Ahhh! Oh...

Again, that night. The groans and the screams came through the walls. Sometimes it sounded like she was dying, and then she would laugh. He was on the bed as soon as he heard it. Hard, in seconds. Pants off, then boxers. One hand under his balls, the other on his shaft. Almost no work to do—he was hypersensitive as if he’d been electrified. This night was louder than usual. Mostly from her, some from him. He decided, in a...

He woke when the blinds opened. One of her nipples, and then the other, rolled over him. He looked out the sleeper car window. It was pink early morning; the train was passing little houses; cars were waiting for the train to pass. She grabbed his penis, already a little hard, and began stroking it gently. “Do you want to show them?” she asked, her thick bush rubbing against him as she straddled him. “Show them what?” he...