Train journeys always make me horny. No idea why. Maybe it’s the frequency of the monotonous clacking and rattling of the wheels. Maybe it’s the mellow vibration. I don’t know, but my thoughts always seem to drift into a certain direction. If a cat’s purr have healing power, then I’m sure train rides can have some sort of aphrodisiacal effect. I will have to google that once we’re back to civilization with Wi-Fi.

I haven’t taken a train for over ten years. I drive everywhere these days, but in my twenties, when I had to commute between my parents’ and Uni, it was an eight hour return trip every fortnight. Apart from catching up on sleep and listening to music, I remember passing the time on these journeys by scribbling down little stories and erotic fantasies to entertain and tease my then-boyfriend. They were very rarely sent or given to him though. Instead I’ve collected them in a large folder, which had blue hearts on the cover, as I vividly recall. They would certainly make an interesting read today and I make a mental note to try to find it in my parents’ loft next time I visit them.

Now, nearly 15 years, a few boyfriends and two husbands later, I’m on holiday in Asia and I’ve chosen to travel by train for practicality and sightseeing reasons.

It’s late evening, the lights are dimmed and the passenger car is almost empty. I look at my husband sitting opposite to me, a large, ugly, seafoam green table between us. He is reading something on his phone with an amused look on his face. His two days scruff and the old, slightly faded ‘Save the ocean’ t-shirt with the whale logo – which I’ve bought for him at least three years ago – give him a carefree, free spirited look. The same look I fell for the very first time we met. I still find it one of his strongest sex-appeal.

We are in the second hour of this six-hour journey. I tried reading, listening to music, I even dozed off for a bit, but I’m still jet-lagged and now my eyes are wide open and my mind’s getting invaded by x-rated thoughts and images. I wiggle around in my seat then turn around, listing all the other passengers in the carriage: there’s an elderly, local woman at least ten rows away from us, behind me and a few young lads even further up. Behind my husband, only two rows of seats and the door to the next carriage straight behind. Nobody is sitting on that side.

When I turn back with a suggestive pouty smile on my lips, Harry lifts his head up from his phone. I drop my book on the table between us letting him know, that I’m bored and need to be entertained now. I cock my head to the left and ask without words, Are you game?

“Right here, right now?” he whispers with a raised eyebrow.

When I nod, he answers, “Naughty,” on his normal, deep tone of voice. He looks around and comes to the same conclusion, I did a few minutes ago: we are pretty much alone.

There’s uncertainty in his eyes. Out of the two of us, he’s meant to be the bigger exhibitionist. Why is he hesitating? We used to do much riskier things, like giving each other hand-jobs while driving down country roads, having full on sex on hilltops, lookouts and other beauty spots. (There is a reason why we prefer rocky beaches to sandy ones…)

“Mmm, come on,” I plead. My mind is like the clacking of the wheels, there’s no stopping me now.

I stand up, starting a little performance. “It is very warm in here,” I say teasingly, letting him know, that it’s already decided and we are going ahead with it whether he likes it or not. I reach up into the overhead storage compartment to remove my luggage, making sure, that he has a nice view of my toned legs and bottom, as I stretch tall. I drop the suitcase onto the seat, then bending over it exaggeratedly, I treat him to an even more lascivious sight of my round, gym-perfected ass, while I’m rummaging through the suitcase. I know he can’t resist that. I’m looking for my knee length stripy summer skirt and I spend a little longer searching than absolutely necessary.

When I find it, I push the suitcase out of the way and sitting down, I begin to roll down my tight but comfortable travel jeggings in a weird half sitting, half standing pose. Like getting changed on the front seat of the car, which I have plenty of practice of. I could go to the toilet of course, but why bother. No one is around. And at least I can treat my hubby to glimpses of my naked skin. I fold up my pants and toss it in the luggage.

He stands up to help me lift it back up. Ever the gentleman. Our naked arms touch briefly and as my skirt rides up my butt, he slides his hand from the back of my knee, up to my ass. Then goes on to give it a playful slap. That brief second was enough to start a tingling, electric charge in my panties. When we sit back down, I make sure he knows, he got me wet and I look at him with milk-hungry kitten eyes.

“I’m not sure about this baby” he voices his final concerns. “Fuck knows the law in this country, we might even get thrown into prison.”

“Mmm, always wanted a criminal record for public nudity,” I smirk.

“It would be more indecency, than nudity,” he corrects me.

“Hmm, stop it, you are turning me on,” I grin.
I see him looking around again, this time scanning the ceiling, presumably for cctv cameras.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Cctv cameras in this third world country, on a train going to the middle of nowhere?” I scoff. “There’s not even air-conditioning in here.”

Finally he relaxes a bit slumping back into his seat accepting his fate.

“A blow job is a very safe choice, don’t you worry, baby.” I plead with my fawn eyes and puffy lips. Then without waiting for his reply I disappear under the table to work my magic. As I lower myself onto my knees and move a bit forward, I notice just how filthy the underside of that table is, it clearly has never been wiped. There are a few decades-old, dry chewing gum stuck underneath it and a thick layer of dust. I nearly change my mind.

If it wasn’t for his cock bulging through his fly right in front of my face, I probably would. But I can’t just quit now, before even starting. Trying to avoid the dirt, I open his zip and work his semi erect penis through the fly of his light blue, soft cotton chinos, then his boxers. I take my time, treating him to a few gentle strokes as I free his cock. I feel safe and hidden here even if not quite comfortable.

Harry keeps an eye out and if we get disturbed, I can always just pretend that I’m looking for something on the floor or just stay ducked under the table and go unnoticed.

Reassured by this back up plan, I settle into a sideway seating position and begin to slide my lips up and down rhythmically on his shaft with pleased humming and moaning sounds. After his first reluctance, he seems to be enjoying our little risky game. He combs his digits through my hair, then pulling it hard, close to the roots, tugging at me scalp, he urges me to swallow him deeper. His cock is fully erect now and hitting the back of my throat making me gag a little, but getting me soaked at the same time.

“Such a dirty girl,” he growls. “That’s it, suck my cock.”

His filthy talk makes me want to try even harder and I deep-throat him zealously. My hand's sliding up and down on his stiff cock when I take a few seconds break. His balls are being pressed up, sitting on the bottom of his fly, making them look even fuller and rounder than they are. And they are pretty full anyway, as we haven’t had sex since we left home, about 4 days ago.

I cup them with my right hand and adjust his package to get him more comfortable. I’m really turned on now and imagine him completely naked on that ugly, faded seat moaning with pleasure, while I lick his balls and rub his shaft. In my fantasy those youngsters in the other side of the carriage would come over to watch. Maybe they’d even join in.

Mmmm, yes I’d love to give them all a nice blow job and let them watch as my husband fucks me hard in the middle of the fucking aisle. (After, of course, we had encouraged the old lady to move to another carriage.)

I decide not to share this little fantasy with Harry. Not because he would be jealous or think, I was too slutty. Ah, not my dear husband… He would make me go ahead with it. Especially, judging by the bulging veins on his cock, he is currently unlikely to be able to think straight.

So instead, I tone down my fantasy a notch. “I wish the carriage was completely empty and I could just ride you sitting up there.” I look up to him from under the table with huge lustful brown eyes, “I need your delicious cock inside me baby.”

He closes his eyes and throws his head back enjoying that image in his mind.

Hey, he’s supposed to be keeping an eye out. Oh well, fuck that!

That fantasy (the first one, not the second one) has me so worked up, that I have to reach into my panties. I start slowly, just gently sliding my fingertips over the length of my labia, moaning quietly, while I continue taking the full length of his cock. Then I find that sweet spot on my clit, that brings me to orgasm in a few minutes. I work myself to the brink and looking up, I ask him if he wants to finish in my mouth.

He opens his eyes and shakes his head. “You said, you needed a fuck,” he grits his teeth, pulls me up by my shoulder and bends me over the ugly table, “you think we can stop now? Come up here!” He roughly yanks down my panties and slides his thick throbbing cock into my slick, burning hole.

Oh my god, YESS. I want to scream.

He’s going satisfyingly slow and deep and I sigh and grunt wishing this minute would never end and hoping that he’s the more responsible of the two of us and keeps us hidden and out of trouble. If he monitors the far end of the car, we should be fine as the door behind us can be heard, if someone is about to enter. In that case, all we need to do is let my dress fall and I quickly just need to sit next to him.

I close my eyes and I try to relax as he keeps pounding my damp pussy at a slow pace. Anything faster would attract attention.

I tell him it would be safer, if he sat down and I were grinding my hips onto his cock, pushing myself into him. So we proceed to do that.

I’m so wet, he slides in and out with ease. I ride him at a faster pace, because I'm insatiable, I want more of him. I want him faster, deeper. The thrill and danger of the chance of being caught makes me crave his cum as a matter of urgency. I clench my muscles around his cock semi consciously to bring him to climax and I resume rubbing my clit in a hope to match his forthcoming orgasm.

"That's it, ride my fucking hard cock," he urges me - probably slightly too enthusiastically and too loudly - knowing that dirty talk pushes me over the edge most of the time. That and his hot cum filling me up does the job and I collapse over that disgusting table - only for a brief second though.

We need to compose ourselves and fast. I slide back to my own seat, I pull a few tissues from the side pocket of my handbag and tuck them into my panties.

We are still catching our breaths, when I hear the door open with that pressure sliding sound. I stare at the door opening up to the service trolley, counting my stars, that it did't appear even just a few seconds earlier.

A handsome Vietnamese guy greets us and asks if we'd like any refreshments. As I clear my throat to order I feel cum dripping out of me soaking all the tissues, panties, probably skirt and seat too.

“Could we have two beers, please?” I say trying to sound as natural as possible.

“Chắc chắn,” he says with a smile.

“Excuse me?" I look at him confused, probably still flushed and sounding completely disoriented.

“I just said ‘certainly’, madam.” His smile is coy and forgiving and somehow irresistible on his incredible, sexy, full lips.

God, I’m still so horny.

He hands over the drinks to Harry who is looking for his wallet to pay, while I stare at this very handsome member of crew. He’s tall for an Asian guy, especially standing over me in the aisle. His jet black hair is in a messy style, his skin is like sweet latte. His face has very smooth features completed by thick dark eyebrows and those almond eyes - pierce right through me.

Then it dawns on me. Fuck, he knows. He’s been watching us.

As if he could read my expression he smiles at me coyly again. And I know he didn't mind at all. In fact...

I suddenly become aware of my hard nipples against the soft material of my silk bra and t-shirt. Did he notice that too? Of course he did.

Harry finishes paying for the beers and the two of them exchange a glance as he proceeds to wheel his trolley away. “Enjoy the rest of the journey,” he turns away with a smirk.

I open my mouth to whisper to Harry, letting him know my realisation, but he beats me to it and asks nonchalantly, sitting back with his bottle, “What the fuck did you think he meant, silly girl?”

My mouth hangs open slightly, as I have to gather my thoughts and first of all figure out what my husband is talking about. Then I remember that short Vietnamese sentence and my temporary confusion and ignorance over it. “How would I know? Do I speak Vietnamese? Are we even still in Vietnam or crossed the border already?” I take a few swigs of the beer too. “For all I know, he could have said ‘I want to join’. I’m pretty certain he’s been watching us.”

Harry shakes his head at me then straighten his face, “Are you gonna turn into a slut on this holiday too?”

“No,” I say with a stern face, I even attempt a hurt undertone. How does he dare calling me that outside the bedroom? My acting skills are terrible of course and he doesn’t bat an eyelid at my mock horror. So I continue with a grin, “No, unless you want me to.”

“What ever takes your fancy, honey,” I don’t know if I love him more for what he's just said or for the smile that accompanied it. “I was hoping you wait till we get to the resort, though.” He is slightly more serious now, as he places the empty beer bottle on the table as punctuation.

“I s'pose, I could…” I hesitate looking at my pretend watch, “but it's another four hours on this train and it would be damn boring.”

He sits back pulling his phone out of his shirt pocket hanging next to him. “Go on, get another two bottles then and see if he’s up for a threesome.”

To be continued…