The Impenetrable Blackness of Windows

It was now Sarah's turn to kneel and she knew why she was doing that. The wheels told her.

She hated kneeling for a man, hated fellatio that way. She was not sure sexual intercourse was any the better either. Why did men do the penetrating and not the woman? Why was it that way round, making the woman the receiver, the penetratee? It seemed to emphasise the wrong subservience of women - as if it was in some way natural that the male was dominant. It was simply that he was usually the physically stronger - and did the penetrating of course. The semen had to pass from the man to the woman.

Sarah hated kneeling but she knew she must with her bare knees on the carpet.

The soft cotton of his shirt tails brushed her face, the smooth skin of his penis head touched her cheek. Warm and soft on her skin.

It was not that she was a stranger to fellatio; not as if she had not sucked on a penis before; not as if she had not felt the sudden invasion of her mouth by the hot, thick, salty fluid of a man; not as if she had not let that slip down her throat. Oh yes, she had swallowed: but that had all been of her own volition, her own choosing, in a loving relationship with boyfriends -- and not kneeling. This was completely different.

It was coming closer, the smooth skin of the penis head sliding easily on her cheek towards her mouth until it touched her lips; lips still with the pale pink lipstick she had applied back at Kings Cross in London, back where the lights were bright and it was not just blackness outside. The man pushed, just a little and almost instinctively her lips parted and the tip of her tongue slid over them, wetting them but just catching the tip of the penis. The man would have felt the sudden soft rasp across his penis: she, in her turn, tasted a wet saltiness on her tongue.

He was watching. His eyes looking down as hers looked up at him.

She subservient; there to do the unnatural act; her mouth opened and she accepted the head; her lips sliding over the smooth dome. Sarah paused. She knew how much he was enjoying this both in terms of sensation and image. She, kneeling with naked breasts before him, his penis connected to her - the knob in her mouth but the long shaft visible - and her eyes looking up at him. Such a picture of erotic subservience - not her view of eroticism but it would be his.

The man was very much watching the gradual sliding in of his penis into her mouth, millimetre by millimetre. And it just kept sliding in, deeper and deeper, until it touched the back of her throat and Sarah gagged. The man withdrew. The penis now covered in her saliva; the spittle making it drip and look like it had actually come. It hadn't - Sarah would have known.

"Oh dear. Are you comfortable with this?" His face had the look of concern.

The wheels hummed and Sarah looked up from the spittle coated penis right before her eyes, nodded once and opened her mouth again. Why had she done that? She was inviting him in. She was anything but comfortable with what she was doing.

The man moved forward and Sarah's lips closed around the edge of the glans, holding just the shiny bulbous head within. It was smooth to the touch of her tongue; big in her mouth; she could not fold her tongue away to avoid it. Automatically her tongue moved, the bulb of his penis was there and she had to explore. The tip of her tongue finding the fraenum, the little ridge or ribbon of skin running from the underside of the glans penis to the shaft; she could feel its shape -- feel the ribbon move as she pushed at it. She knew men were sensitive there. She had done that before. Perhaps she could make the man release his semen before he moved to sexual intercourse - as he inevitably would. It seemed the better choice.

Her work became vigorous. A sliding, slurping, sucking on his cock. Action meant to produce a result.

"No, no, my dear. More daintily. That is not right at all. A very gentle toying. A lovely lingering pre-cursor to intercourse. A subtle teasing of the penis and a pleasure for you."

Sarah stopped; her plan awry. Slowly she let her lips slide up the shaft, the knob slipping deeper as the man watched and smiled; and then, when she thought she could take no more, a slow withdrawal until the penis left her mouth. It bounced upwards, the wet head knocking against her nose.

The man stepped back and looked down at the kneeling girl. Her naked knees upon the carriage carpet, her sex modestly covered by her tweed skirt but naked from the waist up; her breasts very visible. He smiled and put out his hands to help her up.

"The rest of the examination now, I think. The table perhaps would be useful."

Gently he turned her and she felt his hands at her waist, undoing the clasp of her skirt, easing the buttons through their holes ready to release the last vestige of modesty and leave her naked. The zip moved down and all that was protecting her were his hands holding the waist of her skirt. Not even the swell of her hips could hold it - if he released it.

His hands let go and the skirt fell, the course material slipping down her thighs. Sarah stepped out of it. She was doing his bidding. Why?

Instead of a sudden grasp of her naked buttocks, the man seemed more concerned to fold her tweed skirt and add it to the neat pile of clothes. Sarah waited and then a gentle pat on her behind propelled her forward to the table.

"If perhaps you could lie down?"

Sarah knew it was not really a request; there was no option but to settle her bottom on its edge and lie back with the top of her head touching the window glass - touching the glass which revealed nothing but blackness. It was cold on her head and she moved fractionally forward, moving her sex closer to him, and then, as she knew she must, raised her legs up until she could rest her feet on the edge of the table leaving her legs wide splayed and her sex as open for inspection as it possibly could be.

Unhurried and with his usual care the man now removed his shirt, folding it neatly on his pile of clothes before turning to look closely at her.

He had not yet touched her there, his fingers had not yet felt between her legs, had not yet stroked her intimate flesh nor slipped into her sex. Sarah braced herself for what was to come and what would follow.

Once more there was no hurry on the part of the man. He stood for a time just looking, occasionally moving in closer to examine something more closely. There was no let up in his erection. He was standing looking, completely naked and with what Sarah had to accept was a very presentable, large erection.

Sarah tried to think of anything: anything but what was happening but her mind kept slipping back to the dark windows and the steady rumble of the moving train. The sound was soothing, the blackness a comfort - no one could see her so exposed with her legs so wide.

It was not the touch of his fingers but the sudden soft hint of his breath on her sex, as he looked closely, that did it. All at once she felt a greater arousal, a feeling of real wetness coming to her sex as her body secreted lubrication, a stronger feeling in her already hard nipples. Sarah could not believe what her body was doing. It seemed a betrayal.

The man's fingers finally touched - not her sex but the soft inner thighs; places no man should touch without permission. His fingers stroked.

"Soft, very soft."

It was wonderful, the sensation, but the reality, the cold reality of being exposed to and touched by a stranger was quite different. Her body craved sexual gratification: her mind desperate to escape.

His fingers came up her thighs and rested in the creases between thighs and mons veneris - twixt skin and curly pubic hair. They lingered in the sensitive crack just before where her sex begun. Clearly he was examining, looking closely at her sex. She had never watched herself in a mirror but were her lips really puffing up with blood as he watched; could he really see a change in her sex as he watched; see her body involuntarily and definitely without her permission preparing itself for intercourse? He seemed to be waiting. Sarah tried her hardness not to move; not to give even the hint of a squirm; not to give any clue that she would like his fingers to touch her.

"Your curls do indeed perfectly match your hair. Unusual. So often they come a little darker though sometimes these charming little curls do come a shade lighter." His fingers moved lightly through her thicket seeking the little divide, the slit of a girl. "Very soft too - sometimes pubic hair is just so wiry. And here is your little valley."

Sarah knew he could see where it lead; knew he could see everything. There was no real need for his fingers to explore to discover what was there like they might in a darkened bedroom or if delving into the unzipped jeans of a girl: all was exposed and revealed and he could put his finger straight on whatever he wished. And, awfully, Sarah wished he would. Her body wanted the man to put his finger on her clit and diddle it. She knew her clit was standing - standing like his penis - all wet, red and inflamed. She wanted his fingers touching it, stroking it, pulling gently at it, rolling it between his fingers - just frigging the sodden thing.

She could not help it, her body was not quite still and her tongue kept licking her lips. He could not but see this evidence of her arousal and, of course, the man could already see her wetness and the rising scent too was unmistakeable - a woman in heat.

The man's fingers slipped down the little divide and ventured out into the wet marshlands of her sex. The searching fingers skirted the little hillock and explored the wet folds, pulling up and out the wet slippery labia minor. His finger work was delicate, exacting and very noticeable.

"Excellent, like the wings of a butterfly, and so long. I should have examined them as you stood and when they were hanging below you but I did not know; did not imagine. Wonderful, I can actually make them flap like wings."

And he did, holding them separately in his fingers and moving them. It was both exquisite and awful at the same time.

The man seemed like a little schoolboy playing with a new discovery - and somewhat that was what he was - though perhaps more an adult collector of adult things. Despite the shuddering pleasure of his actions, Sarah was steeling herself for what would come. Like the butterfly in the Lepidopterist's collection she was about to be pinned, not literally with a silver pin through her breast, but with the unwelcome long pin of his penis entering her body rather lower down and pinning her to the table.

To Sarah it felt like a pool of wetness had come between her legs - as it occasionally did - was she dripping on the table? In her prone position she could not see. She was amazed and disappointed at her body's own excitement. She was enjoying being felt so much more than she could have conceived.

"And here we have your special passage."

It was if he was explaining, demonstrating her naked body to an audience.

His fingers circled.

"No babies yet, I think but..."

A finger slipped in. Such an intrusion.

"... hardly virginal. You have been mounted?"

It was an odd, animal husbandry term, as if she had to be lead to the stallion or bull to be served rather than being a free woman to do as she willed and choose who she did or did not sleep with.

"Yes."

The word escaped her. Sarah had to answer him and do what he willed.

"Many?"

"No."

"Three?"

"Four." She hoped he would not ask about them. Not about the second.

As he talked he kept inserting more fingers. Sarah was slippery and wet and could accommodate but how awful to have this stranger doing this - how awful it would have been had it not actually felt so good? It felt almost like having a cock inside. And he moved his fingers in and out like a cock. It felt good; if only he would touch her clit as well then she might just come.

He was playing with her, playing with her sex, enjoying watching his fingers opening her, seeing how he could stretch her.

Of course he did come to her clit. Fingers withdrew from her vagina; at least the fingers of one hand withdrew whilst others stayed and, excruciatingly slowly, they moved across her sex until almost there.

"Please." How awful. What she had been thinking had escaped from her lips. Why not go the whole hog and say, 'please fuck me.' It was what her body - but not her mind - wanted.

He obliged and he was expert. Perhaps it was just him examining - pulling her little button this way and that - but it was wonderful; so wonderful that Sarah's orgasm came easily as she lay on the hard table, exposed and with a stranger manipulating her.

As she shuddered through what was an exceptional orgasm Sarah was conscious of the man watching her face. Was this actually part of his examination? An inspection of a girl in the throes of coming?

"Excellent, excellent."

Lying on the table she looked up at him, framed between her wide splayed thighs and so plainly in view, rising above her own curly and now rather damp pubic hair, was his erection. It rather dominated her view. Sarah was sure it would now disappear - within her.

But no: he made her get up, turn around and kneel on the table with bottom raised and knees on the hard surface. Not easy as her legs felt a little jelly like from her barely completed orgasm. The man had clearly not finished his examination. Quite awfully he was inspecting her bottom and not simply the smooth roundness of her cheeks but the divide. In the position she was in her anus was totally exposed to view - was this stranger allowing her no modesty? Worse did he plan to bugger her? Would his fingers now toy with her anal sphincter and then attempt to insert his erection. Sarah felt awful but there was nothing she could do. No way she could stop him. His hands were stroking her cheeks, feeling their way across the smooth skin, she braced herself for the touch of a finger on her bottom hole. Could he actually see her clenching her muscle, would the tightening of her anal orifice be visible to his eye?

With eyes tight shut she waited but the touch never came. It was not that his stroking fingers did not come close: but not that close. Instead they once more entered her wet middle passage -- not one but many. Sarah opened her eyes and looked under herself; past her hanging breasts, past her tummy to the mounding of her hair covered mons. She could see his fingers working - both see and feel them - and beyond that his erection both close and potent. Sarah was cross - the touch still felt pleasurable to her.

"Very good. My examination is almost complete. I am pleased, yes, extremely pleased with your body. It is very fine indeed, particularly the intimate flesh; that is so very tactile and moist. If, perhaps, you could lie down on the table again?"

Sarah was relieved. It was not to be her bottom after all. But was vaginal intercourse, actually, so much the better option? Once more she was flat on her back on the hard table, once more her legs were wide spread and her moist, engorged sex splayed to the stranger's view.

The man peered closely at her sex, "Such an enchanting scent. Just two more matters to attend to and we are done. Is the taste as pleasing as the sight, touch and scent?"

Sarah shuddered. She had endured his fingers playing, had actually come with them inside her but now he was proposing to apply his lips and tongue to her sex -- a further invasion she could not stop. She watched his face moving closer as the gap between it and the apex of the vee of her legs closed and his tongue made contact -- the feeling electric. His tongue did not just touch but it explored and probed. If any of her boyfriends had been half as good, indeed half as ready to take their time pleasuring her that way then perhaps... Against this pleasure was the knowledge of what this strange man was doing to her; that he had not just poked his fingers into her but was now doing the same with his tongue and rolling it around in the most satisfying way

She wanted to wrap her thighs around his head and pull his tongue even closer to her. It was marvellous sex and, with his eyes unable to see her, she allowed her own fingers to play at her nipples bringing her even closer to a second orgasm.

Of course the way the man's tongue slid around her clit, what he did to it with his lips and tongue did bring on that orgasm. Sarah was more vocal this time, she could not help herself, could not stop the long drawn out sigh.

Finally the man rose, smiling and with his tongue sliding over his lips.

"The taste is indeed pleasing and did I detect another little tremor from you, perhaps?"

It was a question. Sarah had to answer. "Yes."

"Was it as strong as the first?"

"Stronger." She did not like admitting that.

"Good. Now, the final matter to attend to; you do, I am sure, know what that entails?"

It was a quick nod from Sarah. She knew what that was.

"I am going to probe you a little deeper. I do not think this will cause you any discomfort. Are you ready to accept that?"

Another quick nod, though Sarah did not want this, did not want the stranger's penis invading her body. But it was already positioned between her widely spread legs, the man could see exactly where to direct it and, wet as she was, he would hardly need to push with any effort to make the penetration.

Of course he took his time. It was never going to be a quick thrust of the pelvis. That was not the way of the man, indeed would have been completely out of character from the rest of the examination. He would watch the entry millimetre by millimetre until the mingling of the pubic hairs obscured the joining from view.

The man spent a good minute just staring at her sex, holding his erection in hand, before she felt the first invading touch; knew that already the shiny head was part within her body; and slowly more followed.

Was it really that fascinating to see the gradual absorption of the male member into the female? Sarah had never thought of looking. She almost pulled herself up to peer down between her legs. It was not that she did not know what was happening as she could feel the slow progress and the way she was being opened: the sensations were quite clear. What seemed to annoy her most - and she could not fathom that - was the very clear feeling and knowledge that this, the fifth penis to have travelled that way, was the largest. Somehow it would have been better if it had been the smallest but it was not: quite the contrary and it really did seem to Sarah that she was being expanded more than with her former lovers. To use the strange man's word, as the erection continued its travel, she was also being probed deeper than before.

Finally the man came to rest, body pressed against body and with the stranger's penis bulb way up inside her and, she could feel, his balls hanging against her bottom hole. The penetration was a shocking and intimate intrusion but there was one more thing to come -- and 'come,' Sarah knew, was the word.

"Very good, very good, indeed."

Grasping her thighs the man began the motion of intercourse, the steady piston like sliding of penis in vagina undertaken with long, steady strokes making Sarah slide a little to and fro on the table. It may have been undignified but who apart from the man, the man who had seen all, was there to see? Intercourse may not at all have been of her choosing but it was not unpleasant -- far from it - Sarah's body was, once again, responding to and enjoying the sex.

The steel wheels rumbled on, a steady metallic noise, but from the end of the table came a very different organic sound: the wet, squelching, slapping sound of human sexual intercourse. If asked about the sounds of intercourse Sarah would have thought of the creaking bed, the sound of bedsprings moving in the night, but the wet sucking sound of penis moving in and out of a vagina was really the true, intimate sound of sex.