Sweats

This story has undergone a minor edit, cleaning up some grammar and punctuation, and clarifying certain details. Thank you to Literotica author Seraph_Nocturne for providing some helpful suggestions.

This story features rough and public group sex, hard drugs, and a strong dose of humiliation and degradation.

Sophia lurched awkwardly down the train carriage, the locomotive pulling into motion before she'd found a suitable seat. She needed somewhere private; the gummy she'd taken earlier had kicked in during the walk to the station, and although not too strong, she was already feeling uncomfortable about a four hour journey in a long, brightly-lit carriage. She staggered towards the cabins near the back, and to her joy, they were mostly empty, more gently lit, and with enough room to seat six people.

She shut the glass door behind her and slid into her seat by the window. It was past midnight already. She had not planned on this journey. She and Grant had flirted online for months. He'd seemed charming, handsome; in person, another arrogant rich boy. She'd travelled the distance with every intention of riding the life out of his entitled posh dick, but the spark of their correspondence was missing, the dinner a disappointment.

With the THC melting her thoughts together just a little, she found it hard to suppress the possibility that perhaps his money had been more enticing than she'd admitted. Her father had money, and consequently, so did she, and she suspected she was hardwired to seek it out in prospective partners. But he really had turned out to be a drip.

In the darkness outside, the window was near enough a mirror. She could see very clearly the wasted effort she'd made: smoky eyes, pouting red matte lips. Her exquisitely pale skin almost ghostlike against the glossy jet-black hair that would have qualified as a shag had it not stopped at the elegant line of her neck. In her cannabis haze, she had to concede that she was truly gorgeous, her stunning angular features and piercing eyes undeniable even in the murky reflection. The black satin dress with the shoestring straps showing the glory of her collarbone and shoulders, loosely contouring her slender curves. She'd even foregone underwear, having pictured his stunned expression as the dress slid up and over her head to reveal her sleek, toned body, the pert roundness of her ass, her soft, shaved pussy...

Sophia blinked at the realisation that she was getting turned on by her own reflection. Perhaps the gummy was a little stronger than she'd thought. But why shouldn't she, she reasoned; what a waste. And his loss.

The train drew to its first stop, the platform illuminated yellow. Three tall, thin figures in hooded tracksuits pulled themselves up off the nearest bench and lumbered towards the door of her carriage. "Don't come in here, don't come in here..." she muttered under her breath, craving her solitude for the coming four hours. In the tacky halogen light of the carriage she could see the uniform sports grey of their outfits, shuffling past the door. She breathed relief as they appear to move by.

Not that they did nothing for her. Like many English women accustomed to financial safety, Sophia reserved a lingering thirst for anonymous men in grey sweats. Had she passed those men on the street, her eyes would have scanned for telltale dickprint, and she'd have salivated upon finding her mark. It was a frequent fantasy for her, to let herself be fucked by some looming stranger in comfortable grey cotton.

But that was a dream, and she was exhausted and high on a four hour train ride and not in the mood to share an enclosed space with three randoms.

She looked again. One of them, the tallest, had paused by the glass and peered in. And then... fuck. Beckoned to his friends to come back.

To Sophia's dismay, they slid the door aside and bundled in, slouching into the three remaining corner seats with arms relaxed and legs wide. Up close, she could make out their faces: tanned, sharp jawlines, high cheekbones, and light brown crewcuts. She could easily have mistaken them for brothers. They suited their outfits, they looked athletic. Sophia was mounting in awareness of how exposed she was, sans underwear in a revealing dress, and made a quick decision to wait a polite amount of time and then excuse herself from the cabin.

"You high yeah?" It was the man opposite. Sophia looked at him, unaware her eyes were half-closed, and tried to pass herself off as clear-headed.

"I'm sorry?"

"I know that look anywhere. You smoke?"

Fuck it. "Uh, I had a little earlier, I don't... have any on me now."

"Nah, that's okay. I can just always tell."

She flashed him a polite smile - "good eye" - and pretended to look at her

phone.

"Where you coming from?" The question came from the far corner.

Don't answer. "I had a date, it didn't work out." What the fuck.

"Sorry man, guy's an idiot."

"Yeah, you're fit as fuck."

She stirred a little at the compliment. All three men were casting their gaze over her body. Under the haze of the edible, the attention felt unusually good, despite her wariness.

"Thanks, heh..." she batted her eyes. "Um, actually, I wasn't into him..."

She relaxed, albeit cautiously, and described her evening as best she could. It did make her feel a little better about her experience, and herself, to hear their commiserations and their loud, abrasive mockery of Grant. But it was hard, and inadvisable, to drop her guard; these men hadn't taken their eyes off her since they walked in. Their stares made her shift in her seat, although she felt unable to cross her arms or legs without coming across as guarded. Her nipples hardened and she felt goosebumps at the certainly that they were imagining her body. Their intent crept under her skin.

"You're on here for four hours?"

"Um, yeah... it's a long journey." She shrugged. "I'm probably going to try and sleep through it..."

The one by the door, whom she'd mentally nicknamed Long due to his height, leaned out to check the corridor before turning back. "You do coke?"

"What?"

"Do you do coke?" he slid a baggy out of his sweats. Sophia's stare alighted on it, eagerly, flitted to his crotch, and then back to the baggy. Of course she liked coke.

"Y... eah, occasionally."

"Nice, man. If you prefer to stay awake."

He proffered the bag, and she took it without thinking.

"I can't just... are you sure? You've just met me."

"I'm sure man, enjoy." All three grinned. At her, then at each other.

She weighed up the predicament of accepting cocaine from three strangers in a train cabin, in the middle of the night, as she peeled it open. She decanted a reasonable measure onto her wrist as she reminded herself of the prudence of keeping her wits, and her inhibitions, at hand. She questioned what they'd try next if she did this, as she loudly inhaled the clump of powder.

Very soon, her doubts became replaced with a wave of mildly delighted confidence. Being very lightly dressed in a cabin full of rough boys didn't seem as fraught as it had five minutes ago. And lucky them, she thought, to be in the company of someone so exquisitely pretty.

"Fuck", she giggled, and helped herself to another measure, the high bringing the posh girl to the surface as she forgot to ask whether she was allowed a second helping. But it seemed to be—they were all too happy to watch her shovel the stuff up her nose. She handed the bag back, wearing an unmistakable grin. Her heart was thumping, and their leering looks at her body were melding nicely with the rapidly rising sense of her own charming gorgeousness. She was getting less and less bashful about looking them up and down, too.

The guys passed the bag around, and each took their own doses. The cabin was a chorus of sniffing and quiet swearing. She tried to remember their names - they'd introduced themselves earlier and she'd dismissed them from memory almost instantly. It was a bad habit of hers: forgetting details about strangers she didn't plan to meet twice. Her head rocked playfully to the side as she took in the room, that ditzy grin plastered all over her face. Sophia had a history of letting evenings get out of control once the powder came out.

"You're posh, yeah?" Far corner. She could not recall his name to save her life. She noticed a slightly darker patch of skin on his sinewy neck, and quickly dubbed him Smudge.

"Umm..." there was no right answer to this question. "I mean..."

"Yeah, she's posh." Knowing snickering rolled around the carriage.

"Alright, a little" she smiled, hunching her shoulders in mock embarrassment. "I'm slumming with you guys though, right?"

"Yeah? You're down in the dirt now?"

"Oh, completely" she laughed.

"So what do posh girls like? Aside from coke?"

Sophia put a dramatic finger on her chin, feigning thought.

"Well... all the posh girls I know have a thing for grey sweats."

She removed the finger from her chin and reached over to her right, giving the soft cotton of his thigh a taunting tickle.

"Yeah?" Opposite her, Long cocked his head to one side. "We're doing it for you, are we?"

There was a part of Sophia still urging caution. Unfortunately, that part was more or less severed from her amplified craving for attention. Every chance to let one of these boys think they were about to fuck her was another hit of dopamine, another reminder to herself that she really was that beautiful, that sought after. She hadn't dressed in next to nothing merely for Grant's benefit; everyone she'd walked past today had taken a glimpse of pure, gorgeous elegance, and now she was riding two lines and mainlining the attentions of a room full of large, sexually aggressive men. As long as she kept teasing them just right, they'd be feeding her cocaine and desperate for her for the entire journey.

"Oh yeah." Her fingers didn't leave that spot on her neighbour's leg. They stroked lazily left and right. "Because... you can see everything." She swung her head round to face the man she was touching with a coked-out smirk. He glanced down at her hand, drifting up and down his inside leg, then up at her with a degrading glare that made her ache with mischief and cemented the pseudonym Leer in her mind.

The truth was that Sophia was not playing the delicate game of tease she thought she was. It would be more accurate to say that she was indulging in extremely sluttish behaviour and failing to keep her recklessness in check. With the train rumbling around all them, and in her altered and rather exposed state, the space felt like a cocoon where she could let her guard down and misbehave. Sophia had a history of letting coke take her evenings out of control - she'd gone down on friends she shouldn't have before, and gone home with people she really shouldn't have. But never had she acted out in a public place, or purposefully inflamed the attentions of people who made her feel unsafe.

"You been trying to see something?" He spread himself a little wider, slouching in his seat and resting a hand on her wrist as she applied more pressure and stroked higher.

She giggled again. "What am I going to see?" Her stare alighted on a growing bulge just inches from her hand. The outline of his cock was beginning to pull the fabric towards the ceiling. She nodded towards his lap. A fresh pang of doubt hit her, but the knowledge that all eyes were on her, her nipples pushing against her dress, her skin glistening with coke sweat, was too intoxicating. She wanted his cock in her hand, and for the others to see.

She reached up and gripped his waistband, raising her stare to meet his. "Oh, shit..." came the whispers from the other two, accompanied by muted laughter dripping with excitement. His stare came back, along with a near invisible nod of assent. She pulled down, revealing his length inch by inch. Her grin widened into an open-mouthed frozen expression of laughter - he was evidently not wearing underwear either. The elastic travelled down his hard shaft, revealing smooth skin and engorged veins inch by inch, restraining it between his thighs until she slipped it over his glans and it flopped backwards into his hoodie with a soft, yet audible, thud. She exhaled through her smile of excitement. He was just as smooth and vascular on the underside, and it stood upright, rock hard.

"...Hi there." She barely said it out loud, but as soon as she had, she collapsed into a fit of giggles, glancing at the other two with a can-you-believe-I'm-doing-this look. They returned her laughing disbelief with filthy smirks, Long moving to guard the door.

"I'll keep watch, then." With him standing, Sophia could see his grey sweats were blatantly tenting, too. She stared at it unabashed, and then took her gaze to the naked erection next to her hand.

She took hold of it and began massaging up and down almost immediately, his skin pulling beneath her grip. It felt as hard as it looked, and her pussy tingled as she touched it. She was still giggling, stroking her new toy with drugged amusement.

"How can you guys get this hard on coke?" Even with his cock in her fist, Sophia needed to pretend this was all a game.

"We took something else earlier" Leer's voice had softened into a lazy slur of pleasure. "In case."

"In case" muttered Long. Both members of their audience had their hands underneath the waistband of their sweats now, stroking their dicks as they watched. She nodded in understanding - they'd been out searching for pussy and had spied a posh slut sitting all alone on the ride back. She squirmed a little at the thought that they had the measure of her so thoroughly. She started rubbing his cock in longer, more dextrous strokes, feeling out its full length and yelping with glee whenever it twitched in her fingers. She was breathing very heavily now, biting down on her bottom lip, up on her knees in her seat as she leaned over him. He was squirming, too, thrusting up into her hand and letting out filthy, selfish moans under his breath. She was feeling the coke harder than ever, the sound of her heartbeat in her ears.

She couldn't stop giggling.

His hand was stroking her hair now. Rough fingertips against the back of her neck, gently, but unmistakably, pulling her forward, wanting more.

"You gonna suck him?" In the far corner, Smudge had pulled his own cock free and was openly masturbating at the very prospect of watching her use her mouth on his friend. The question had an impatient, bullying edge. It was more of a demand, one that stung with degradation, and the implication that "no" wasn't really under consideration.

"Ummm..." more giggling. She didn't, and couldn't, stop stroking this cock. "Um... um..." the sound of his foreskin wetly unfolding as she pulled down to his base, and he groaned. "...do you have any more coke?"

Out came the bag again. He leaned across, pouring a measure onto his knuckles. She leaned in too, expectantly, until his sweaty hand met her upper lip and she inhaled deeply, the white powder vanishing with a familiar chemical numbness. She reared back, snorting audibly, absorbing the clump somewhere between her nostrils and eyeballs. "Uuughhh."

"Fuck."

Her high surged upwards, and she felt intensely, powerfully able to do what they wanted from her. It wasn't a laughing matter anymore. With her heart racing and sweat sheen coating her skin, she could quite happily suck and fuck for hours.

Her head careened gently into his chest as she clumsily fell into position. She gripped him tight at his base and let her mouth fall open, dropping down and swallowing the lion's share of his cock between her full, red lips. He let another groan, louder than before - "fuuuuck..." - and she drew saliva onto her tongue, drenching the hard cock lodged in her mouth. Almost immediately she began to work her neck energetically, twisting her head left and right. Pride swelled up in her - she had always known she had a gift for head, and finally, there was an audience to prove it to.

"Oh my... god..." his moans only spurred her further. The taste of his skin and sweat. She moaned, too, slurping and sucking. He was still thrusting skyward, and the jostling of the carriage made it all a clumsy and messy affair. Spit gathered at the corners of her mouth, and he frequently lurched in a little further than she could take. She did her best to open up her throat, sucking him deep. She was on all fours across the seats now, her dress riding up and exposing her naked ass and the soft, dainty mound of her shaved pussy. Although she didn't hesitate to keep sucking him for a second, she broke into a fresh sweat knowing that anyone walking past the cabin would get an unobstructed view of her cunt, regardless of their one passenger's efforts to block the door.

She squealed into the cock she was thirstily sucking on as she felt, and heard, a stinging smack across her ass. Another followed, and she offered a playful wiggle in response, causing her dress to ride all the way down to her waist. A finger entered her. His middle finger, she thought, slowly sliding in and out of her - god, her absolutely soaked pussy in full view of the corridor. She moaned again and again, muffled by the cock that was now fucking her lips; she barely had to move her neck anymore, it was entering her fast and wet, the slimy, hard head scraping the roof of her mouth and the back of her throat. That finger, fucking her deliciously slowly—

There was a loud tapping sound. She felt his finger slide out of her instantly, and she turned her head around to stare open mouthed at the two train conductors standing in the doorway. A string of spit still connected her bottom lip to the tip of his cock. All four of them stared, unsure of what to do or say, but another surge of sweat coated her as she realised she was about to be thrown off this train for sucking cock.

The train had come to a standstill. "Right. Come on. Off. All of you, out." They all grabbed their belongings, Sophia clutching her purse and shimmying her dress back down below her crotch as they hastily shuffled into the corridor and out of the door into the warm summer night air. The lecture continued throughout the humiliating walk of shame: "we've had several complaints", "we can all see what you've been doing in there" - none of them were in a particular hurry to stick around and make excuses.

"It's more trouble than it's worth to involve the police. You're lucky." The stone-faced conductor slammed the door behind him and the train pulled away, leaving them stranded on the platform. Sophia watched, still tingling with coke-fuelled arrogance, yet mortified as car after car passed, every passenger regarding them with judgemental amusement. She noticed a couple of phones out. Taking pictures. Of her. Thrown off for being a slut.

"There'll be another one in half an hour" said Smudge. It was one of those rural stations that was barely a station - just a platform to get on and off. Sophia could see they'd been stranded amid fields and country roads. There was really nowhere she could go.

She sat herself down on the platform's solitary bench, underneath the low yellow light from overhead.

"Fuck, I can't believe that just happened."

She looked up. The men were standing around her, all three of them. Looming.

"What?" She saw that their bulges hadn't diminished at all. "Oh". She looked around. "Here?"

"No one else here." It was the man whose cock she'd already had down her throat. "No one's gonna see now." Leer tugged his waistband down and his cock flopped free again, still glistening with the coating of drool she'd given it earlier. He took hold of it, and waved it, taunting her.

Stranded like this, it felt like less of a cokey game than it had done. Although the high was keeping her horny and, she had to admit, achingly willing, she knew now she was in the middle of nowhere with three bullies, evidently bigger than her, stronger, and expecting everything. Worse still, the only reason she could think to deny them would be that it was improper.