It was maddening

He withdrew his fingers abruptly. I whimpered, a sound of pure loss. But before I could process it, I felt him fumbling with his trousers. Then, the hot, smooth skin of his bare cock replaced the fabric. He nudged it between my dark thighs from behind, the thick head leaving a slick trail of precum on my inner skin.

He rocked again, but this was different. Now his shaft slid through my soaked folds, the topside of his cock dragging over my swollen, aching clit with every pass. It was maddening, teasing. I pushed my hips back, trying to capture him, to guide him in.

He understood. His pale hands gripped my dark hips, holding me still. One arm reached around my front, his hand splaying across my lower belly, anchoring me. With his other hand, he guided himself. The blunt head of his cock pressed against my entrance. He pushed, slowly, inexorably, and my body yielded, swallowing him inch by inch.

Oh god. He was in, not too deep. Stretching me. He held himself there, buried to the hilt, letting me feel every pulse, every vein. The train swayed. He began to move.

His thrusts were shallow at first, controlled, using the motion of the car to mask his own. But with each push forward, he went a little deeper, a little harder. My breath came in sharp, ragged sighs. He covered my mouth with the hand that had been on my belly, his fingers tasting of my own salt. I licked them, a wild, instinctive act.