On the Night Train to Mandalay

[Note: this is an entry in an "exactly 750-words" writing exercise. ]

I felt the military officer's eyes boring into me throughout the meal in the train's dining car. I found him both very attractive and arousing. Somehow my need and acquiescence conveyed to him and he undressed me, caressed me, used me even as we assessed each other from across the dining car. When I got up to return to the sleeper car and its corridor running between banks of curtained bunk beds, he followed me at a distance.

In the coffin-like lower bunk, my breathing jagged in anticipation, I turned my head to the window and followed the flashing lights of whatever rice-paddy-world civilization was awake at night outside the lurching train.

Then he was there, the military officer, pulling the curtain aside only long enough to join me in the confining space, coaxing my legs apart and kneeling between them.

"Take my cock," he growled.

"Yes," I acquiesced.

He made an adventure of undressing me in that space and using his hands and mouth to get me worked up to begging for the cock even before he had managed to strip himself in a space where you couldn't even raise your arm very far over your head without hitting the underside of the bunk above you.

I whimpered, "Do it. Do it now. Fuck me," as I heard his belt being released and his zipper being lowered. I arched my head and chest back and did what I could to stifle my groans in a coach that wasn't full but was occupied enough to worry about those in surrounding bunks knowing there was a fuck fest going on in their midst, as his finger entered my hole—and then another and another, almost up to the knuckles as he opened me up. My legs still bent, I placed my feet flat against the underside of the bunk above me and pressed up each time the fingers invaded to the knuckles. I rocked my pelvis on his hand, whimpering and panting.

"Now. Now. Fuck me now!" I sobbed.

And then he did fuck me—or at least he and the train did. He provided the cock. The moving train provided the friction. I had never been fucked like that—by the combined efforts of a man's cock and a train's motion—before. I have never been fucked like that since.

After pulling his fingers out of my ass, he arranged my body—and I let him manipulate me as he wished, me babbling, "Now, now, now," as he did so. He palmed my lower back and raised my pelvis, my legs bent and spread, supporting the rise on my feet flat on the surface of the bunk. He murmured for me to stay in that position, and I did. Whimpering "Please be good to me," I turned my face to the window.

He moved over me, between my spread thighs, nimbly, considering his bulk and the confining space. I'm sure his back was pressed into the underside of the bunk above. He planted his knees between my thighs. His fists were pressed into the surface of the bunk on either side of my chest. His face was looking down into mine, although in the darkness of the space, I had to strain to discern his expression. Eyes full of lust.

His cock went into position and I moaned and arched my back as he entered me and slowly pushed up into me. I gritted my teeth, unsuccessfully trying not to groan. I looked into his face, almost involuntarily, because I didn't want him to see how much I wanted this. He smiled, a knowing, victorious smile. He knew. He knew I had to have him inside me now. My hands went to cupping his buttocks and pulling him into me, surrendering all.

And then he held, buried in me, as we both felt me opening at the center, going spongy for him in the core, relaxing to prepare for the pump. I moaned and whispered, "Now, now. Work me now. Make me come."

He held, hard, filling, possessive. I grabbed his biceps and tried to rock against him, but he whispered, "No. Hold. Tune into it. Feel it. The train is doing it."

And, indeed, when I tuned into it, I realized the train was doing it—providing the friction of the fuck. Both the military officer and I were just maintaining position, and the motion of the train was moving him inside me—in and out, in and out.