Push for raw sex from Emilia

“Well,” you smirk, “I’ve got no quarrel with ditching the rubber if you don’t.” You have to admit that it feels weird that they expect you to push back against the prospect of rawdogging a woman that you met tonight, stupid an idea as it may be. “In fact, I’d prefer it,” you add.

You see both Emilia and Lily blush, their eyes widening just a little bit more at you given the unspoken implication of your statement.

“Oh,” says Emilia, a hint of a cute and bashful little smile crossing her lips as she averts her gaze, “oh my.”

“Maybe on second thought,” Lily drawls, swallowing, looking you up and down, properly sizing you up, “it’s better you get him to yourself. Knock yourself out, hun,” she says, frisbeeing the condom onto the bar towards you and dejectedly collecting the empty glasses.

“Then, ah, shall we?” Emilia asks, wiggling up from the bar, putting her conductor’s cap on her head, and saddling up to your side, wrapping her arm around yours.

She’s warm and soft, the heat from her skin pouring through her clothing as she holds you.

She glances up at your eyes, then at the door of the train car.

“Lead the way,” you reply with a big stupid grin on your face, and she starts walking. For such short legs, you are surprised how quickly she can walk when she puts her mind to it. Part of that is also just how drunk you’ve gotten on the hard liquor you've had, leaving her to actually make any forward progress.

Emily leads you out of the bar car, down through the sleeping section, past closely drawn curtains. Through the coach section you are led, listening to the frequent hitching in Emilia’s breath, noticing the heaving of her chest. You’re impressed that the buttons on her uniform haven’t given out on her.

For Emilia though, she was more shocked that her heart hasn’t given out several times tonight. This was supposed to just be a regular milk run, an overnight train down through Chicagoland, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas to the Cotton Curtain and then back again. She’d been disarmed at how open and frankly this young man, John, had started speaking with her after she came storming into the men’s car, ready to stop a sex crime in progress. That was strange enough. Then he actually came looking for her, despite the danger of wandering a train unchaperoned. She had to admit, stealing a glance up into his face full of drunken mirth, that at first, he hadn’t really jumped out at her as different from all the other men she had had the pleasure of seeing while working the rails.

Hadn’t this been the idea from the start? To join the U.S.S.R. so that she could see the country and meet herself a nice man to bring back to her sisters and parents in Minnesota and start her own family? She licked her lips nervously. And now here was this young man, John, basically throwing himself at her tonight.

Despite all the times she had pinched herself in the side while walking back to the men’s car, she had yet to wake up from this dream-like situation. She felt herself pull him closer as they passed more sleeping passengers, a pair of students with their seats back, one drooling and one snoring. She wasn’t going to let this chance pass, to have bonafide sex with a man, and a man who wanted her. She could see it in those watery, drunken eyes whenever she met them. There was lust there, lust for her, and she was trying her absolute best not to turn into a blushing, puddling mess of a schoolgirl that she certainly felt she was whenever she caught his gaze.

“Huh,” you say, stopping to notice the sign on the next train car door. Men’s Car. Violators will be prosecuted under Article 21, Section 421 of the Crimes Against Men Act. Emilia unlocks the door for you with a heavy clunk of machinery, motioning you in, face blushing deeply. After you’re through, she stops to close the door again and, checking that you aren’t being followed, pulls a little blind that covers the window between the cars up and then back down.

“Do you,” you say, then pause to let out a little rubbing **** tasting burp, “do you always lock the door?”

“Only in the men’s car,” she replies, wrapping her arm around yours again, “law is that it’s set up as a one way door, only openable from the inside in case of emergencies or if you've got a key.”

She leads you over to your seat, ushering you to sit down, which you do.

She sits down in the seat next to you, heat pouring off of her, chest still rising and falling with labored breaths. Her eyes are down, flicking back and forth. She absentmindedly tucks another blonde hair back behind her ear with a shaking hand. You can see that she’s maybe anxious, maybe worried.

You get a flashback, faint memories of one night stands getting cold feet and backing out at the last minute pass across your eyes. It’s been months since you’ve been this close to a woman, a hot woman at that. Months since the last time you got this intimate with somebody other than Rosy Palms. If she backs out now, and with how backed up you are, you might just drop dead on the spot. You look down at her heaving chest and then back at her face and you feel your hand moving on its own.

“I―” Emilia says, before gasping for breath. A hand, your hand, seizing her breast and your hot breath is on her ear. You feel her body jolt, then her chest heave forwards against your grip. You grope her breast, rather big and firm in your grip, something hard against your palm. A button.

You hear her hiss for breath and groan as you lean against her, another hand coming up and grabbing the other half of her chest. She jolts again, a hand grabbing you by the collar and pulling your agape mouth to meet hers.

Her lips are warm, sweet, and tinged by the aftertaste of ****. But you can feel yourself getting drunk off her lips alone. She kisses you needily, desperately. Her other hand goes to the back of your neck, holding you against her.

She groans into your mouth as you continue to massage her ample titflesh through her uniform, feeling just how hot her skin is through the fabric.

Eventually though, you and her both break the kiss, coming up for air. There’s an almost lucid moment where you and her sit there, a thin strand of drool arching down between your lips, lustfully panting and staring at each other gormlessly over the clickety-clack sound of the train rolling on through the dark. It is a precious moment.

“Let me,” grunts Emilia, “let me get this off,” as she unbuttons her uniform with shaking hands, revealing a white and sweaty wife-beater underneath. You can see how pale her skin is, and how her blush has grown out across her shoulders and down into her cleavage between her breasts.

“Do you like them?” she asks, watching you as you stare down at her heaving chest.

“Yeah,” you reply dumbly, one hand grabbing her breast and the other starting to roll her wife-beater up her stomach.

“Should I?” Emilia asks, letting her uniform fall off her shoulders and grabbing the hem of her wife-beater.

You nod enthusiastically.

You watch Emilia tug her wife-beater over her head, letting it fall in a pile. You spy a zipper on the front of her bra, which looks to you most like a compression bra. You fall upon her, pressing your lips to hers and tugging the zipper down sharply, her ample bosom spilling out as a result.

“Mhhh!” she mewls into your mouth as you grope her naked breasts, which are quite the handful apiece. You feel her arms encircle your neck as she starts to kiss you back in earnest, leaning back into you, meeting your lips and then your tongue with enthusiasm.

You kiss her until you feel lightheaded, and then when you try and retreat, she tightens her grip around your neck, holding your lips to hers until she finally needs to come up for another bout of gasping.

“Oh my,” she says between labored breaths, “you really like my chest?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, giving them another little squeeze.

“Hold on,” she says, disentangling herself for a moment. You watch as she folds up the armrest on the seat between you and her, and scoots right up against you, pining you against the wall of the train car. Then she grabs you again, kissing you hard. You feel her hands wander down over you, unbuttoning your shirt and running her hands against your chest. You feel her groan into your mouth as she starts to rub your pecs, feeling every inch of your flesh. You feel a zap as her palms rub over your nipples, hardened with excitement and the cool air of the train.

With one hand inside your shirt, you feel her other hand start to wander lower down before coming to rest on the building bulge in your pants. You give a little hiss as she starts to grope it, gently at first but with growing pressure and ****, enough to make your toes curl.

Suddenly, you start to feel a familiar pressure building in your loins. You snap your hand onto her’s, holding it still, grunting into her mouth as she continues to kiss you.

You are not going to allow yourself to cum in your pants tonight.

Thinking fast, you decide that the best defense is a good offense, you worm a hand down off Emilia’s breasts, over her soft tummy to rest on the crotch of her pencil skirt. Between her present posture and her thick thighs, you find it impossible to do anything more then graze her mound with your hand. But it’s enough to turn the tide.

You hear Emilia’s breath hitch, her hand on your cock frozen in place. She pulls away from you, and you meet her eyes.

Emilia’s big expressive eyes are wide with lust, hungry hungry lust.