Night Train

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I always preferred train travel over air travel. It’s more relaxing and without all the added security layers that make air travel a burden. I was taking the train to a nearby city and opted for the overnight train. I always upgraded to business class and enjoyed the meals and free wine. I was already into my third glass of Syrah when we stopped at a small station to bring on more passengers.

I was alone in the business car, as was often the case for red eye runs. I was seated in a four seat area. Two seats faced forward and two faced aft. I had spread out across both seats on my side facing forward and had two empty seats across from me. I was browsing on my MacBook and not really paying attention when a young Asian lady plopped down into the seat across from me. She dropped a large bag on the seat beside her and got busy pulling out large books and a writing pad and didn’t spare a glance at me.

I found it odd she was choosing to sit with me when the rest of the car was empty. But it was assigned seating. I thought perhaps she would move once the train started moving. She hummed a little tune as she disposed of her gear.

The train lurched and sped on toward our destination. I watched the young lady over my laptop. She was maybe twenty-one. She was slim and wore a simple summer dress covered in images of blossoms and wore flip-flops on her feet. Her dress only came down to mid-thigh. I was surprised by just how full her chest was. She had wonderfully large breasts, certainly a C cup or larger. I was certain she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her shoulders were bare and I couldn’t see any bra straps. She had lovely long legs, shaved and gleaming. Her face was perfection. She had full lips with a touch of gloss, wide large eyes with just a hint of the oriental look. I had no idea if she was Japanese, Chinese or some other Asian country. She was a joy to look at. She reminded me of Knives Chau from the movie ‘Scott Pilgrim versus The World’. My favourite movie.

She opened a textbook and started reading and making notes on the scratch pad. I kept glancing at her and looking away when she looked up. Finally, our eyes met and her face lit up with a smile. She pulled her long black hair back over her right ear and held out her hand. I smiled back and leaned forward to take her hand. She gave a light shake.

“Hi! Are you heading to the city?” she asked. She had no accent and her voice was low and melodic. I loved the sound of her voice. She even sounded like Knives Chau from the movie.

“Yes, I am,” I replied. I had seen the cover of one of her books. It looked medical and bore the unmistakeable image of a woman’s reproductive system. “I’m Peter. Are you in medical school?” I pointed at her textbook.

“Yes, third year. I’m Sakura, nice to meet you.”

“Sakura? Is that Japanese?”

She looked pleased. “Yes! A very common name. It means cherry blossom.”

“That matches your dress.”

She plucked at the hem of her dress on her lap. It lifted up enough that I could see between her legs. I was shocked and my eyes riveted to the area. I was certain, with the quick flash, that she wasn’t wearing panties. I saw what I was sure was the lips of a pussy covered in dark pubic hairs. I forced my eyes back up to meet hers. Her cheeks looked a little red to me.

I shook my head mentally. She probably thinks I’m a pervert now. I’m easily twice her age and now I’ve been caught gawking at her. “Um, what are you studying in medical school? General medicine or a speciality?”

She blushed this time for sure. I could see her cheeks splash with a little red. “I’m, ah, studying to be an RE. A reproductive endocrinologist. My parents were and so I’m following them. They have a practice in the town we just left.”

“Sorry, reproductive endocrinologist? I’m not familiar with that.”

“We specialise in helping people with reproductive issues, fertility preservation, infertility, and the like.”

“Interesting. How are your studies going?”

“Oh, good, thanks. I’m coming back to the university after mid-terms. Right back at it. I spent a week with mom and dad.”

“Great that you’re not too far from home.”

“No, only four hours.” She waited while the train stopped blowing its horn for an intersection. “So, Peter, what is it that you do?”

“I’m a writer. Magazines, websites, a couple of novels.”

Her eyes lit up. “Wow! What novels?”

I told her and she pulled out her phone. She tapped away for a moment and then I could see her scrolling her phone. After a bit she looked up at me.

“Super wow. You’re pretty well known! Sorry, but I haven’t read these.”

“No worries.”

She looked over at my laptop, open on my lap. “Are you writing right now?”

I nodded. “Yup, working on my newest novel. That’s why I’m heading to the city. I need to meet my editor and give her my latest chapters.”

“Can I see?” she asked, her face excited.

“Um, sure?”

She made a happy sound and then put her books aside and crossed over to the seat beside bahis şirketleri me. I moved my stuff to the floor. She sat down and then scooted over and hit the arm rest between the seats. She frowned at it and lifted it up. She tucked her legs under her and moved to position herself right beside me, pressing her thigh against mine. I looked down and saw her dress had ridden up enough that it was only an inch or two from revealing something I probably shouldn’t see.

I was glad my MacBook was on my lap. I was starting to feel my cock harden in my shorts. To make matters worse she leaned right over and placed her left hand on my right should so she could see my screen better.

“What program is that?” she pointed at the screen with her right hand.

“Scrivener. It’s a great program designed for writers. Much better than Word or those other programs. Perfect for novels, or even thesis’s. It compiles to any format. I love it.”

She was reading what I had written on the screen and I cursed myself. I was in the middle of a sex scene between my protagonist and the love interest. My protagonist was a woman and she was seducing a detective to get information out of him. My scene had progressed to a rather explicit bit. I was describing how she had taken him in her mouth and was ravaging his cock.

“Oh my God,” she said. “You’re writing that?”

“Yes. Sorry you saw that. Let me show you something else.” I moved my hand to the trackpad, but she grabbed my hand and stopped me. If that wasn’t enough, she didn’t let go of my hand, but she pulled it toward her and placed it on her thigh. My erection rose and my MacBook lifted slightly. Oh god, she’ll see that, I thought. Who grabs a hand and does that?

“No! Let me read it. You don’t mind do you?”

I could feel the heat of her thigh. It was firm and smooth. I resisted the urge to squeeze it and held my hand as still as I could. I looked at her eyes and they were darting back and forth reading the screen.

“Scroll down,” she said.

She didn’t let go of my right hand and I fumbled with my left to drag two fingers down the trackpad to scroll the text up. I stopped on the revealed section. I could see her eyes still reading. The scene had progressed to the detective eating the girl out. It explained in graphic detail what he was doing. It included attention to my protagonist’s asshole. I could feel heat rush to my face. I was dying of embarrassment.

“More,” she said after she had read the section.

I scrolled down further. My protagonist was on top in a 69 position. She was doing things with her mouth in rather shocking detail. I groaned internally when I saw the bit about her playing with his asshole. Why am I such a dirty writer?

I heard her mutter “Jesus” under her breath. I saw her free hand move to her thighs just below the hem of her dress. I don’t think she knew she was doing it. Her fingers were placed high up on her thigh and I saw her squeeze it. I couldn’t help but look at her breasts. The front of her dress was pleated across her chest and held up with elastic at the top. I was certain her nipples were pushing against the material. Oh my god, my writing is turning her on! I felt her hand over mine tighten a little. The bottom of the screen detailed what the detective was doing to the woman between her legs. He was driving her ass down hard on his mouth and he was sucking hard on her clit and fingering her asshole.

“More,” she said again.

“There is no more,” I said, annoyed I hadn’t finished the scene.

“What?” she said and looked up at me. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and she looked annoyed. “Why not?”

“I haven’t written it yet.”

She became aware of her close position next to me. She was leaning right against me and still had my hand pressed to her thigh. She let go and leaned back. I was glad she kept her thigh against mine. She pouted. “Damn. That was pretty hot stuff. Do you always write scenes like that?”

“No, actually. Well, yes. But my editor tears them apart. Removes the detail.”

“Then why write it like that?”

I blushed. “I need to write the scene fully. It’s just how I write. I need to write everything. After the editor hacks it apart, the story flow remains more realistic.’ I shrugged. “My editor asked me the same last year.”

“What did she say?”

“She wanted to know why I wrote the scenes out so graphically.”

She looked into my eyes. I could see her pupils were dilated and her eyes were dark. She looked even more gorgeous. “Did it turn her on?”

I laughed. It certainly did. My editor and I had been sleeping together for a couple of years now. Friends with benefits. She wasn’t gorgeous by Hollywood standards, but she was cute and perky, and amazing in bed. Being a writer had exposed me to the reality of publishing. These nerdy women in the industry were wild animals in the sack. That’s a generalisation, I chastised myself, but true enough. I blame imagination and creative thinking. Writers live in a world of words and the images we bahis firmaları create. We can imagine all sorts of interesting things and sex is usually one of them. What we imagine we want to act out. And we do when given the chance.

I was once at a writer’s commune in New Zealand. Me and a female author I knew were chatting over lunch at an Adelaide vineyard we were staying at when I overheard the discussion at the table next to us. It was two women and two men. All writers. They were discussing the orgy they were going to have. They were completely open about it and didn’t care who heard. They detailed everything they were going to do to each other like it was some research project. I had stopped talking to the female writer beside me. When she laughed, I had apologised. She told me not to bother. She found the conversation hot and wondered if perhaps I wanted to spend the evening with her trying some of the things they were going to do. I paid the cheque immediately. It was a very memorable night. Artists are very passionate.

Sakura was waiting for a reply and I coughed. “Sorry, memories. Um, yes, it did.”

“Did you act on it?” she asked. She looked a little breathless to me. I could see her nipples were indeed quite hard. Her hand on her thigh was just a little lower now. She had moved the hem of her dress a small amount lower.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” I replied with a grin.

“You did! Didn’t you!” She smacked my shoulder and my MacBook jostled and slid sideways off my erection. I caught it just in time, but was certain the bulge in my pants had been visible.

“I won’t tell,” I said and saw her looking at my laptop, or maybe my groin. It was hard to tell.

“Damn,” she said. “I want to know. But okay. So, are you going to finish the scene? I want to read how it ends.”

“Well, I was cleaning up other stuff.”

“No!” she said loudly and then covered her mouth with a hand. “Oops! Sorry. No, you have to finish it. I’m staying right here until you do.”

I could see her determination. I didn’t think no would be an answer, so I nodded. “Okay, I’ll finish it.”

She squealed a little and jumped up and bent over to grab her books and scratch pad. This had the effect of pulling the back of her dress up higher. The car of the train had all the lights dimmed down so low it was hard to make out much, but I was certain I was looking at the bottom half of her ass, her thigh gap, and the hairs of her pussy. I soaked it all in. Her ass was gorgeous. It was round and smooth and perfectly round. It was her thigh gap that caught my breath. I have a thing for them. I love to look through it and see the lips of a pussy. I find it so very erotic. The thigh gap, I am certain—but probably wrong about—is evolution at its finest to allow a man’s penis to penetrate a woman from behind with ease. To my mind, the thigh gap is pure sexuality. It represents penetration. I know, I’m a pig. But that’s how my mind works.

She grabbed her books and bounced back down in the seat next to me. I raised my eyebrows at her and she giggled. Giggled. Like a little schoolgirl. I had the sudden image of her dressed in a schoolgirl outfit, exactly like Knives Chau.

“I’m staying here and watching you write. I want to see this!”

She seemed determined, but I was more than a little apprehensive. No one had ever watched me write before and writing a sex scene with a gorgeous Asian woman sitting next me was so far removed from normal. She saw me hesitate.

“My speciality is reproduction. Think of me as your medical expert. Go ahead. Write! I have studying to do. I won’t be staring at you!”

I slowly nodded my head. Sakura made a show of opening her textbook and starting to read. She pulled her knees up and leaned them away from me. Her dress was no longer covering her ass. I could see her entire left cheek. I tore my eyes away and studied my screen.

The scene was supposed to move to the protagonist coming in the 69 position. She was supposed to squirt when she came. It was supposed to be mortifying to her. The detective calms her down and explains how erotic it is. This leads to fucking. Then more oral. Then anal. My hands shook. How could I write this with Sakura watching me? I was more than nervous and my imagination shrank.

After a moment staring at my screen, Sakura piped up. “What’s the matter?”

“A little writer’s block.”

“Really? That’s a real thing?”

“Um , yes, of course?”

“Can I help?”

I stared at her for a moment, but she looked sincere. “I guess?”

“What’s supposed to happen now?”

“She, uh, the protagonist…”

“What’s her name?” she interrupted.

“Alice.”

“Okay, go on.”

“Alice is supposed to cum right here.”

“And?”

“Well, she squirts and then freaks out by it. She is embarrassed by it. The detective talks her past it. Calms her down.”

“Yeah, it can be embarrassing.”

I digested that for a moment. “You squirt?”

She laughed. “Oh, yes.”

“So it’s a real thing?”

She kaçak bahis siteleri gave me a look of displeasure. “Yeah! Of course it is. Why, you think it’s made up?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure. They say it’s just pee.”

“Who’s they?”

“Um, the Internet?”

“Right the Internet. So you have a medical specialist sitting next you and you don’t believe me. It’s real. Not many women do it. It takes a certain trust and the woman needs to be really turned on. With the right partner, some women squirt all the time.”

“And you do?”

“Oh yes. A lot. Too much, probably. I used to be really embarrassed about it. Now I warn my partners. Most guys love it. I love it when they love it. But truthfully, some women do pee. They lose control of their bladder and piss themselves.”

“How do you tell the difference?”

She gave me another one of her looks. I turned back to the scene and started typing.

“You should mention her asshole tightening up hard,” she said after I finished the squirting scene. I looked over and saw her head close to my shoulder reading the scene.

“Pardon?”

“When she cums. A really powerful orgasm will have her clenching everything down there. Really hard. It’s what causes the squirt to squirt. Like squeezing a bottle of ketchup.”

“Ketchup. That sounds disturbing.”

She smacked me again. I was starting to like her hitting me. “No, idiot. Trust me, the doctor? Remember?”

“You’re still studying. Not a doctor yet.”

“Ass. Well how about as a woman, then?”

“Okay, I can believe that. Everything clenches.”

“Yeah, his tongue would be squished in her ass like you have it written. You really are dirty, you know that? But it’s really fucking hot.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah. I love it.”

“So you had this done to you?”

She squawked a bit. “Um, maybe?”

“Yes or no.”

“Y-yes.”

“You like it?”

She looked a little like a deer in the headlights. “Yes.”

“So this is accurate?”

She leaned over, moving her knees close to me. Her hand went back to my shoulder and her hair cascaded down my front. She pulled it back behind her ear. I noticed her ears weren’t pierced. I noticed her pulse in her throat. I noticed her cleavage and the soft tops of her breasts. I noticed her dress hem was right up to her stomach. If she just parted her knees a little I would see heaven.

She read the scene. “You write here that she focuses on the part of the penis just below the head. The head is the glans. Below that is the frenulum. Women also have a frenulum, the clitoris hood…”

“Writers don’t write like textbooks.”

“I know that! Let me finish! You write that the dude really likes it when she focuses on that part. The frenulum.”

“I do.”

“Is it true?”

“What that it’s a great spot? Yeah, it’s true.”

“You like that?”

I swallowed. “Ah, yup.”

“And this part. She strokes the taint—it’s actually called the perineum, by-the-way—and she licks the scrotum with just the hardened tip of her tongue. That’s good too?”

“Fuck, yeah,” I responded with more enthusiasm than I meant to. I was warming up to what we were doing. “Why are you asking?”

“Learning new things, is all. Keep going.” She went back to her textbook, but stayed leaning up against me. She knocked her knees together a little. I watched, but it was never far enough apart to see down to her groin.

My hard-on was started to hurt. I really wanted to adjust myself. Pull it up under the waistband of my underwear. Right now, it was bent over and pushing up against the bottom of my laptop.

I saw the business car attendant emerge and stroll toward us. I thought Sakura would move, but she stayed up against me reading her textbook. The attendant, a portly woman, smiled down at us. “Aren’t you two comfortable,” she said.

Sakura looked up at her and smiled. “Yup.”

“Great, what can I get you two to drink?” she asked.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” I replied.

Sakura looked at me and then smiled up at the woman. “Scotch, neat, please. Double.”

I blinked and looked at Sakura. She gave me a full smile. I looked up at the attendant. “I changed my mind, same for me, please.”

The attendant nodded and moved back forward and disappeared. I looked at Sakura. She leaned her face in close to mine and whispered. “I love scotch.”

I felt the sudden need to kiss her. Her face was inches from mine. She was pressed up close to me. I could smell her breath and even the cherry lip gloss on her lips. She was looking at me, waiting. I was confused. So very confused. I knew I wasn’t getting mixed signals. Sakura had been hitting on me for an hour now. But I was too scared to do anything. It’s just the way I am. I held her gaze and tried to will my body to make the move. I could see her eyes searching mine.

A noise from the aisle turned my head. I heard a soft exasperated sound from Sakura and cursed myself. The attendant emerged and came down the aisle with the drinks. She handed them to us and we thanked her.

“The train won’t stop until the city. If you need anything else, tell me now, please. I normally doze off for the next three hours. I’ll serve breakfast an hour before we arrive. Is that okay?”

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