Sleeping naked on the sleeper train

I was fully naked, lying on my back, looking at him.

He wasn't reading. His book was closed on his chest and he was looking right at me.

Fuck.

I didn't look away. I couldn't. I let him look. I let his eyes travel down my body. I saw them linger on my tits, on my nipples, the way they rocked slightly on my large breasts with the movement of the train. His gaze moved lower, down over my stomach, to the smooth skin between my legs. I had my legs pressed together, but I knew he could still see the shape of my pussy, because so could I, and together we looked at my body.

He swallowed. His hand, which had been resting on his book, tightened into a fist. He wasn't looking away. He was just looking. And I was just letting him.

God. How embarrassing. What a slut.

I wanted to cover my face with my hands, but I couldn’t do it. It felt too exciting. Too illicit. Too naughty and addictive and…

I took a slow breath, trying to steady myself, my body still on display for him.

Well, I thought. If he’s going to watch, why not put on a little show?

My hands moved almost on their own, sliding up my stomach slowly, teasingly, until they cupped the heavy weight of my breasts. They were large and pale and soft and ready, and I lifted one, feeling its satisfying heft, then the other, letting them drop and jiggle back into place. I traced the outline of my areola with a fingertip, circling it slowly, both of us watching as it hardened.

I let out a soft sigh that was swallowed by the train's rumble and squeezed both of my breasts together for him, pushing the soft flesh up to create a deep, shadowed cleavage, then let them fall apart again. I was playing with them for him now, a silent, teasing performance just for the stranger in the bunk opposite, and frankly, it was making me wet as fuck.

My hips rocked forward.

“I’m sorry to disturb your reading,” I whispered as I looked at him and licked my lips. “But do you like my body?”

He nodded. “Yes. Very much.”

“Mmm,” I said, not really a word, just a noise. I slid my hands down my stomach, my fingers tracing the line of my hip bone, my eyes locked on his. I watched him watch me as my fingers dipped lower, sliding between my legs. I was so wet they disappeared quickly and easily and I let out a sigh of pleasure as they did so.

I circled my clit slowly, my eyes moving back to his, and in my peripheral vision I saw that his hand was moving ever closer to his cock rubbing his cock.

“Would you…” I hesitated, realising how crazy what I was about to say was. “Would you…like to feel my tits?”

He nodded. “Would that be okay?”

I let my eyes flutter closed. “Mmm–hmmm.”

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bunk. The movement was awkward in the small space, and he nearly tripped on his own bag, but between his legs, pushing against his shorts, was a hard cock, and the sight of it was enough to make me open my legs a little wider.

“You can kneel there,” I said, intonating with my head. He did as he was told, dropping to his knees, the height putting his face level with my chest. “Good.” I breathed. “Now you can touch them, if you like…”

He reached out with a hesitant hand, looking at me and asking for permission one more time, this time with his eyes. I gave it to him, nodding gently, and his fingers hovered just above my breast for just a second longer before he brought it down and made contact.

I arched my back slightly, pushing my boobs up into his palm.

It felt good to be manhandled by him.

“Do you like them?” I asked, sliding my fingers between my legs once more, opening them a little wider still and biting my lip as I looked up at him.

“Yes,” he said. “Very much. They are so soft.”

“Yeah…” I nodded. “You can squeeze them a little harder, if you like…"

He obeyed, his grip firming, his other hand coming up to mirror the first on my other breast. He squeezed them together, his gaze fixed on the way my flesh molded to his hands. He leaned down, and I felt his hot breath a moment before his tongue circled my nipple. I gasped, letting him do it, letting him do what he wanted, my hand flying to the back of his head, my fingers tangling his hair as I pulled him closer. He closed his mouth over my nipple and sucked.

"Fuck, yes," I moaned, my hips rocking up off the bunk. The rhythm of the train seemed to sync with the rhythm of his sucking, and my fingers circled my clit, spreading my wetness over my soft lips.

He switched to my other breast, giving it the same attention, his teeth scraping gently across my nipple. The sounds of the train, my own ragged breathing, and the wet, sucking sounds he was making filled the small cabin.

“Would you like to taste me?” I asked, my heart beating fast now, my instincts taking over, my conscious thought subjugated deep within me.

He nodded.

“Good,” I whispered. “Close your eyes and open your mouth…”

He looked confused for a second and then obeyed, putting out his tongue in such a submissive gesture of understanding that it would have made my knees weak had I not been lying down.

I brought my hand up from between my legs, my index and middle finger shining beautifully in the moonlight from the window. Lifted it to his face and placed them on his tongue, pushing them slowly into his mouth.

“Suck.”

That’s all I said, and he understood, his eyelids fluttering and his cock twitching, the taste of me igniting something with him. I could feel his tongue moving across my fingertips, sucking and licking hungrily, his lips closing around them. His cheeks hollowed slightly with the effort, a slow, rhythmic pull as I helped him, moving my fingers in and out of his mouth. I felt my pussy throb and pushed a little deeper, just a fraction, and he moaned, a low, muffled sound that vibrated right down my arm.

I watched him, this stranger on a train, willingly debasing himself for a taste of me, and the power of it was intoxicating, and I knew, right there in that moment, that I needed to fucking ruin him...

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