On the train, while my drunk husband was sleeping on the top bunk

I hate reserved seats. That smell of boiled chicken and other people's socks, mixed with the vibration of the wheels. But cheap tickets to Adler left me no choice, and my husband, Seryozha, as always, insisted: "Why are you acting like you're not my family? Let's sit here, have some vodka, it's romantic." Fucking romantic. Seryozha was already drunk by the third stop. He'd grabbed a bottle of Belenkaya at the station and sipped it while eating dried vobla until his eyes went wide. Now he was snoring on the top bunk, his arm dangling, and I was simply embarrassed. Embarrassed in front of my fellow passengers. And my fellow travelers were distinguished. Down below, across from me, sat two guys. They were about twenty-five to twenty-seven years old. Muscular, clean-shaven, wearing tracksuits. Judging by their conversation, they were heading to Krasnaya Polyana, either to grill shashlik or for some shady business of their own. The big guy with the "Wind Rose" tattoo on his forearm was named Ruslan, and his shorter friend, the one with the sharp gaze, was Pasha. They drank beer, laughed loudly at the jokes below the belt, and openly stared at me. I sat in a short robe thrown over my nightgown because the compartment was stuffy, and I felt their gazes literally undressing me, groping my bare legs, lingering on my cleavage. I should have protested, gotten dressed, and climbed onto my bunk next to my snoring husband, but... it turned me on. After two years of marriage to Seryozha, who for the last six months only thought about sex when drunk and ended it before I even had time to properly get into bed. Somewhere beyond Rostov, the conductor turned off the lights. The car was plunged into semi-darkness, with only blue nightlights glowing in the aisles. I sat with my legs tucked under me, staring out the black window. Seryozha was humming a trill upstairs. Ruslan, who was sitting closer to me, leaned over and handed me a can of beer. "Hey, girl, why are you so down? Give me at least a sip, I'm probably sick of this..." He nodded toward the snoring. I chuckled. The impudence was, of course, incredible. "So it's more fun with you?" I asked, taking the can. My fingers brushed against his rough ones. Boldly. He didn't even bat an eyelash. "We're cheerful," Pasha chimed in, his eyes flashing in the darkness. "Not like your... brat." I took a sip. The sweet soda burned my throat. “He’s my husband,” I said without much confidence, just to say something. "Husband?" Ruslan chuckled and declared loudly, without embarrassment: "You can't just leave a chick like you alone. She needs to be busy. Otherwise, you'll dry up." “Or someone else might be flattered,” Pasha added. I was silent. Everything inside me was shaking. My skin felt wet. I took another sip, harder. Ruslan shifted, now sitting almost right next to me on the side seat. I could smell his perfume, cheap but strong. "Let's go have a smoke in the vestibule," he said, and it wasn't a question. He was already getting up. “I don’t smoke,” I answered, but my voice betrayed me with a tremor. "We'll teach you," Pasha stood up after him. They blocked the passage. Two huge bulks. I looked up. Seryozha snored and rolled over. My heart was pounding somewhere in my throat. My mind screamed, "Sit!" My body had already risen, adjusting my robe. I followed them, feeling their gaze on my back. I knew what would happen next. And I wanted it so much that my legs buckled. The vestibule was noisy, the wheels rumbled, and there was a draft. Ruslan closed the door to the carriage, cutting us off from the rest of the world. I pressed my back against the cold wall. "So, beauty," he began, coming closer. "You probably want to be fucked properly? To make your bones crack? All your weakling is good for is snoring." His hand landed on my thigh, under my robe. His palm was hot and rough. I shuddered, but didn't pull away. "Ruslan, cut the crap," Pasha interrupted, coming from the other side. "See, the girl's ready. Look how her eyes are sparkling." He pulled back the hem of my robe, exposing my shoulder. I was wearing a thin tank top with straps. His fingers touched my collarbone and slowly crawled down to my chest. I bit my lip. "What if he wakes up?" I squeezed out, nodding towards the carriage. "We'll do it quietly," Pasha whispered, squeezing my breast through the fabric. "Or loudly. As you wish. Just keep your mouth shut, if necessary." Ruslan untied the belt on my robe, and it fell open. I stood before them in a short silk tank top and matching thong panties, which I'd put on specifically to spite Seryozha. Ruslan whistled. - Now that's what I call packaging. He abruptly turned me around to face the wall, pressing me with his body. I pressed my hands against the cold metal. Pasha stood in front of me. I found myself trapped between them. Ruslan pulled my panties aside, and I felt his finger slide into me roughly, without preparation. I gasped. It was wet. He felt it. "Mmm, the bitch is already wet," he growled contentedly in my ear, rhythmically moving his finger inside me. Pasha, meanwhile, lowered his sweatpants. His cock popped out, large, with a dark head, already hard. “Open your mouth, bunny,” he commanded, taking hold of the base of himself. I obediently opened my mouth, and he immediately entered my tonsils. I gasped, but he held my head by the hair, setting the pace. Ruslan, from behind, stroked my clit with his free hand, his fingers sliding inside me, stretching me. I was going crazy with both humiliation and arousal. My husband was sleeping twenty meters away, and I was giving one a blow job while the other was fingering me. “That’s it, I want her,” Ruslan exhaled, removing his fingers. He jerked my hips sharply, forcing me to arch further. I pressed my palms against the wall, Pasha took a step back, squeezing his cock, wet with my saliva. Ruslan pulled my panties down to my knees. I heard him spit on his palm, and a second later I felt the head of his cock press against my wet folds. He entered all at once, all the way, with one sharp thrust. I screamed, digging my nails into the paint. Fireworks exploded inside me. He was so thick that he spread me painfully, filling me completely. "Oh, fuck, so tight," he croaked, starting to move. Slowly at first, pulling out almost completely and then slamming back in all the way. Each thrust sent shivers through me. The train rocked, and these thrusts mingled with the rhythm of his body. "Now it's my turn," Pasha came up from in front again and grabbed my chin. "Watch how you get fucked, slut." I watched. Through a haze of sweat and desire, I saw Ruslan's cock disappear inside me, my pussy clasping him. Ruslan sped up, thrusting into me hard, roughly, his balls slapping my thighs. Pasha leaned down and kissed my lips, greedily, biting. I moaned into his mouth, feeling my orgasm approaching. A sweet spasm gripped my lower abdomen. "I'm cumming, fuck, I'm cumming!" I screamed, clinging to Pasha. "Well, fuck you," Ruslan whispered in my ear, slowing down. "Be patient." He left. I groaned in emptiness. Pasha immediately switched places with him. He turned me around and sat me down on the cold vestibule floor, my back to the door. "On your knees," he barked, standing in front of me. I knelt down, the dirty floor cutting into my skin. Ruslan stood behind me. Pasha grabbed my head and thrust his cock into my mouth again, but deeper this time, raping my throat. And from behind, Ruslan, spreading my buttocks, thrust his head into my anus. I jerked, wheezed, trying to break free. "Quiet," Pasha shouted, squeezing my hair. "Relax your ass, and it will be easier." I closed my eyes, feeling Ruslan pressing. It hurt, incredibly painful, but when the head slipped through, the pain gave way to an incredible, transcendental feeling of fullness. He began to move in my ass, slowly, rocking. Pasha moved in my mouth in rhythm. I was being fucked in two holes at once. Saliva flowed down my chin, down my neck. It was dry from behind, but Ruslan didn't care; he simply pounded me, pushing my tight walls apart. "Come on, bitch, have some guests," he growled. "Do you like it when your husband sleeps and two big men fuck you?" I couldn't respond, only moaned and slurped, impaling myself on Pasha with my mouth. The orgasm hit me suddenly, like a wave. My body arched and shuddered violently. I screamed as loud as my mouth would allow, thrashing in their hands. I clenched inside so hard that Ruslan groaned and, pulling out, came on my back. I felt the hot jolts of thick sperm on the skin running down my lower back. Pasha, seeing this, came after him, deep in my throat. I swallowed, choking, tasting his salty, bitter taste. We were sitting on the vestibule floor. I was all sticky with sweat and cum. Ruslan silently handed me a pack of wet wipes. - Here, tidy yourself up. I somehow dried myself off, pulled on my underwear, and wrapped my robe around myself. The trembling still hadn't subsided. Pasha lit a cigarette, blowing smoke out the closed window. It was strange to look at each other. Just now we'd shared the dirtiest intimacy, and now we were strangers again. My throat was sore. I stepped out into the train car. It was dark and quiet. I slipped into my seat. Seryozha was still snoring upstairs. I climbed onto my bunk, facing the wall. It smelled of sex, other men, and cigarettes. I closed my eyes. Ruslan and Pasha's whispers continued downstairs for a while, then they calmed down. In the morning, Seryozha woke up with a terrible hangover, drank pickle juice for a long time, and complained about life. He had no idea. Ruslan and Pasha got off in Krasnodar without even glancing in my direction. Seryozha, watching them go, muttered, "Some kind of punks." I smiled and turned to the window. I felt their hands on my body again, Pasha's taste in my mouth, Ruslan's rough thrusts. To the sound of the wheels, I slipped my hand under the blanket without my husband noticing, ran it over the still-sensitive folds, and smiled. Adler was just beginning, but I already knew this would be the best vacation of my life. Or, at least, the most vivid memories of it.