Chica Cum, Chicago

“You’re back!” Ella Sue cries out in delight as I poke my head into the train compartment. As the door swings shut behind me, she hops down from the top bunk, giving me a big hug. Yep, this is definitely the right car.

“I said I would be,” I reply, plunking my bag down on the bottom sofa-bed.

“But you were gone for a really long time,” she pouts. And then, perking up again: “And you’ve changed all your clothes, you look all dressed up now, especially with the combover! And I didn’t know you had tattoos like that!”

“I don’t,” I say, rolling down the sleeves of my shirt to cover the sleeve of flowers on my arms. “The ink isn’t permanent. It’ll be gone in a few days.”

She gives me a quizzical look, tilting her head to the side.

“I’ve been considering getting the permanent tattoo, but I wanted to try out the look first. It doesn’t work as well as I thought it might,” I lie. I pause for a second, doing up the pesky buttons by my wrist. “Did you get a chance to head into town?”

“Well obviously,” Ella Sue snorts. “I wasn’t going to spend five hours stuck in a train station. I went to the Magnificent Mile, got some photos with the Bean… hey, want to see the photos I took? I need to figure out which ones to put on my Insta!”

“Gladly,” I say.

Before the word’s fully out of my mouth, she’s plopped herself down next to me, phone in hand. She flicks through the photos, showing me dozens of selfies, artsy takes, and the occasional portrait taken by a kind passer-by. I practically have her entire day laid out and documented before me, and yet, all I can think with each photo that she shows me is Damn, what a catch.

Her playful little smile, so coy and flirtatious, invites me into every frame she appears in. Her unzipped white down jacket and low-cut top, showing a tantalising amount of skin, makes me wish that a **** gust of stiff wind would have blown her clothes off…

“So, what do you think?” Ella Sue asks, looking up at me, smiling that sly smile of hers.

“Looks like we have similar taste in women,” I say, nodding at the self-portrait that she’s editing.

She giggles, her fingers dancing across the screen of her phone. A moment later, and she’s produced a healthier glow to her skin, and then she stares at the photo for a second. She nods to herself, writes a silly little caption: “It’s Bean a minute :)”, and then posts the photo on Instagram for the world to see.

The notifications start rolling in a moment later, a sea of buzzy chimes. She lets out a happy sigh and tosses her phone to the side, resting her head on my shoulder.

“Look at little miss popular here,” I chuckle, and she makes a face at me, scrunching up her nose.

“Hey, it’s not a bad thing to be hot and popular,” I say. She giggles again, sticking her tongue out me and then she flops backwards onto the sofa-bed.

“I’m not hot, I’m tired,” she says, but my eyes, roaming across her nubile form, would heartily disagree. “And anyways, shouldn’t you be the popular one, mister mysterious artist who flies around the world?”

She raises her eyebrows at me.

I lie on the sofa-bed next to her. We’re in a a new car, a different train from the one we rode into Chicago this morning, and so the bed still isn’t made. Ella Sue drew the curtains to the train car even before I came in. It’s the small things like that which make me turn my head over to look at her.

I stare into her light blue eyes. Her eyes roam across my face. Her eyes stare into mine as I lean into her and kiss her, lightly, lips brushing against lips, her eyes blinking rapidly at the brief encounter, over as soon as it’s begun.

“Mysterious enough for you?” I whisper in a low voice, running a hand against the length of her arm.

She shuts her eyes and lets the sensation run through her body as I do so, and when they open again, I see that they are filled with nothing but want.

“Who are you?” she asks, as my hand, slipped under that thin space beneath her tight top, unlatches her bra with a deft movement.

“An artist,” I reply, suavely, flourishing off her bra, lifting off her top, revealing her full breasts, a hand casually brushing across the tops of her two stiff nipples.

My hands sweep downwards, taking her pants with them, another hand gliding upwards, into the upper reaches of her thighs, grazing the pink outer folds of her pussy. She sucks in a sharp breath as I tease the insides of her legs, my form suddenly looming over her, body swaying above hers.

She spreads her legs wider, inviting me to enter her, but I elect to have fun with her tits instead. I feel up both of her breasts, the twin round orbs pliant and soft, sinking down as I grab them, and she whimpers a small sound of frustration, wanting, needing me down there. My mouth engulfs her left nipple instead, lips then teeth just barely sharp against her small nub, the loud gasp in my ear telling me all.

“Please,” she mutters, “please, please!”

“So easy to please,” I laugh, running a finger up her slit, finger wicking a line of moisture with it.

I trail her wetness against the flat of her stomach, and then slip the finger between her lips. Her eyes widen, her mouth parting for the finger, and I feel her tongue licking up her own juices.

My other hand slips into her, two fingers probing her pussy, feeling out the new space of hot slickness. I keep my fingers in, deep, slowly pressing, curling, waiting for the moment when…

“Oh fuck,” Ella Sue sighs, wrenching her hips upwards and into me as my fingers find the g-spot, the delicate **** just enough to send her moaning again.

That’s when I slide my fingers out.

I lean back, pushing her hips up, preparing to go down on her, when I feel her hands gripping my waist. She sits halfway up, undoing my pants, and a moment later, she’s got my cock in her hand.

I am kneeling over her, her hand is stroking my cock, her eyes big and wide. A second hand on my cock brings it to full mast, her grip tight—she’s horny, she’s ****, but she wants to give me this. She wraps her mouth around my cock with a little difficulty, the size perhaps surprising her, but she manages, mouth forming a cute ‘o’ around my length.

I feel my cock throbbing in her mouth, delighted to find a space so hot, so warm. She worships my cock, looking up into my eyes, hands still stroking the base, her mouth slowly working its way down the shaft, each little intake a hesitation followed by further bliss on my end.

She sucks me off deeper and deeper until her eyes widen and she starts coughing, pulling off my length a second later.

“Bad gag reflex,” she complains, hacking off to the side, but she's back at it again a second later, taking me in once more, wanting to satisfy me.

Her mouth, the warmth, it’s all too much for me to handle; I lose control and unwittingly thrust forwards, my cock pushing deep into her mouth. She gasps, eyes blinking, but she holds for a moment or two, before my cock meets the cool air and she’s coughing once more.

I look at her, concerned, wondering if I’d pushed too far, but instead, she looks up at me with a peevish smile, brushing away the hint of spittle and pre-cum on her lips.

“I suck at giving blowjobs, but I’m great at sex,” Ella Sue says. “Can I make up to you?”

“You didn’t have to ask,” I laugh, giving her a quick kiss.

I find my wallet in my pants by the side, and pull out the condom tucked inside it.

“You had this all planned out from the beginning!” Ella Sue says accusingly, and then she giggles, slipping a finger inside of herself. “Oh, that makes me even more wet…”

With the condom now rolled on, I dangle my member in front of her face.

“You sure you don’t want to give the blowjob another go? Practice makes perfect,” I tease.

“I just want…” Ella Sue begins, and then I’m back at her waist, my cock pressed against her outer folds, thrusting in, parting the flower of flesh, fucking her, “… just wanted this, oh please, oh yes…”

In a moment, I am deep inside her, missionary style, and she is right, she is good at sex, she thrusts her hips to give me access, her walls tight around my cock, and then tighter still—she’s flexing those muscles, giving my cock everything that it’s worth, trying to get me to cum already, her snatch so perfect…

The steady back and forth has me going further and further, each stroke bringing us deeper and deeper into one another.

“You like that?” I growl, pounding into her, harder than before, watching her quiver.

“It’s so good!” she screams, and I wonder about the people in the cars next door, but the thought is gone in the next moment. It’s so good, her words echo in my ear, it’s so good, this tight little brunette minx, so ready for a good pounding…

I piston in and out of her, the mechanical motions made fluid by her grace, her energy, the way she yelps and pulls me in, kisses me, squeezes my cock…

“Just that way, just that way,” she says, and I keep doing it, whatever it is, the fucking apparently bringing her to the brink.

I like to think that I’m a man with decent stamina. But in the space of minutes, she’s reduced me to a blissful wreck, and I pin her down to the sofa-bed, cock shuddering deep inside her, her own screams following soon after, the two of us panting and staring into each others eyes.

“I can think of something better than a teddy bear for you to hold tonight,” I say, and her eyes light up, despite the fucking that just finished.