“Now show me how you touch yourself. Show me what I missed out on when I left yesterday. Show me everything.”
My delayed response must test his patience, because he takes my hand in his and brings it to my exposed flesh between my legs.
“I’ll help if you want.”
I’m unable to speak. Even if I didn’t have a gag in my mouth, I’m not sure I’d be able to find the words.
This is too hot. The image of the two of us, the illicitness of it all, the fear of getting caught.
I allow his hand to guide my fingers through my wet center. The contrast between the soft pads of my fingers and the rough, blunt edges of his, stimulates me beyond belief.
He leads my fingers through the slick folds, opening me up and making me visible in a way I’ve never been. We moan together as he dips our fingers into my entrance, his longer finger parting and pressing into the soft center of my body. I squirm and my pelvis punches forward, as he continues this glorious onslaught of friction.
In and out.
Up and down.
Back and forth.
Fast and slow.
It's all made more erotic by the train’s movement – the loud engine noises and screeching of the metal rails.
Gavin frees my hand and brings both of his palms up to my chest, where he dips his fingers into my tank, stretching the material down and under the cups of my bra, exposing my breasts. He seems completely entranced by the sight of my peaked nipples, and he squeezes my breasts together, plumping and groaning in pleasure.
“Oh fuck, Kitty. I’m so hard for you. Just look at you. You’re so fucking perfect.”
His word choice stuns me – knocks me off guard. I’m so far from perfect I can’t stand it. My flaws and imperfections are all over the internet to see. My imperfect choices and decisions. My embarrassment and disgrace.
I push those thoughts aside as I get closer to orgasm. Gavin thrusts his hard length into the crevice of my ass, grinding against me as I rub with just as much fervor against my hand.
The tip of my finger, now wet and slick, flicks over the bundle of nerves as I moan, the sound muffled only by the panties between my teeth and the loud roar of the train.
“Are you close?” he asks, his eyes hooded, our bodies undulating together. “Are you going to make yourself come?”
“Mm...” I pant out.
My legs shake. Shake from excitement. From the movement. We stare at each other in the mirror, watching my hand as it twists and moves.
I’m on my way to the top of my climb – ready to jump as I near the point of no return.
His hands leave my breasts and he unzips his shorts. The noticeable scent of latex hits my nose as he rolls on the condom. And then the air is sucked out of me as he lifts me off my feet, spreading me wide as is allowed in this confining space and pushes inside of me with no warning.
He fills me.
He’s everything I feel.
I see.
I hear.
I am.
I raise an arm to wrap behind his neck, as one of his hands returns to my breast, the other on my hip to offer support. I drop my head back against his chest and watch us, as if in a dream. My entire focus is chasing that climax.
Every time he jabs in, he pinches my nipple, which sends an electric shot to my clit, and then drags himself out. His rhythm and tempo changes with every other move, but each time, he hits me where it counts. In less than a minute, I’m begging.
“Please don’t stop…more,” I mumble, the words coming out in low muffled sounds.
