Seduction on the Train (Travel Gal Erotica) (4 page)

Leila was acutely aware of her wide-open cardigan.  When she glanced down after dripping butter from her lobster, she was ashamed not by the spill but by the fact that her nipples were long and erect and poking through the satin sheen in all their glory.  She saw both Joseph and Tom gazing upon them with no reservations whatsoever.  Marie was busy regaling everyone with a story about a misadventure in the mall; she was also quite preoccupied with her cocktail and didn’t appear to notice her husband’s wandering eyes.  Joseph’s eyes shone with delight.

“Darling, you seem to have gotten yourself a bit dirty, haven’t you?”  Joseph chided. 

“We’ve only just met,” he added, “but already she’s spilled a few times.  I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

There was really nothing Leila could do but continue eating, drinking and being aroused.  She was almost beyond caring what others noticed or didn’t notice due to her intense arousal.  But not quite.  She met Tom’s eyes but couldn’t keep his gaze.  She continued leveraging her lobster with the stainless steel cracker, and her face took on the color of the crustacean she was rough-handling.

Tom and Marie were just receiving their meals and Joseph and Leila had already finished.  She was desperate to leave and finish what they had started here back in their quarters.  This seemed the perfect opportunity to plead tiredness and jump ship.

The waiter returned and asked if they would be having any dessert.

Leila rushed in, “None for me, thank you.”

“None for me, either,” Joseph said.  Leila sighed with relief. 

“But I would like a glass of scotch, on the rocks.  I know I should be drinking vodka, but it’s just not my drink.  Leila, how about you?”

“No, I’m fine with the wine,” she said, disappointed.  How much longer would she have to endure this?

The scotch arrived, ice cubes tinkling.  Joseph hadn’t touched her in more than half an hour yet she was as turned on as she had ever been in her entire life.  She felt her entire body pulsing.

And then, in full view, he took an ice cube out of his drink, fingered it and put his hand under the table.  Leila hardly had time to look at her dining companions to see if they had noticed when she felt the cold cube plunged into her dark recesses with a very sure insertion of the fingers.

“Oh,” she gasped.  She was ready to come any second.

“What is it?” Marie asked innocently.  She had obviously seen nothing, though Tom was smiling from ear to ear.  He couldn’t believe his luck.

Wide-eyed, Leila smiled and said, “Joseph, quit teasing me!” 

He looked at her quizzically.

“He just put the ice cube on my leg,” she said dramatically.  “Not very nice!” she scolded.  Condensation from the ice slid out of her slit along with a moan of excited breath sliding out of her throat.

“So cold,” she shuddered as she mini-orgasmed under the table with his thrumming hand and the icy cube swishing inside her.   Leila tried to keep her body from shuddering too dramatically, holding her body as tightly as she could to her chair, but her head involuntarily pulled back and her chest and clavicle region grew mottled.  She had to close her eyes momentarily and take some deep breaths to compose herself.  She figured if she breathed through her orgasm, it might not be quite so obvious.  She also tried to think of something nasty in order to make the pleasure of the orgasm subside, but it simply wasn’t possible.  The pleasure overrode every muscle, every impulse, every ounce of control.

Joseph kept up the pressure of his two fingers inside of her even as she was continuing to come.  Was this really happening?  Fortunately, Maria excused herself from the table to “freshen up” but here were not one, but two men watching her orgasm multiple times and all she could do was sit there and suck in her breath, watching her own breasts heaving and her body vigorously trying to resist the pleasure through holding herself back, but only increasing it through her effort.  It was both excruciating and divine: having these two men watch her in such a vulnerable position was almost more than she could bear.  

“I do believe we’ve had enough for the evening,” Joseph said finally, slowly withdrawing his hand from Leila’s soaking wet pussy.

“Waiter,” he called.  The waiter was standing adjacent to the table, likely having watched everything that just went on as his face was also flushed and his tuxedo pants bulging.  “We’re going to take the remaining wine with us.  Please put it on my tab.”

“I daresay you have had enough for one evening,” Tom replied.  “I will bid my wife good night on your behalf.  I don’t think I have enjoyed anyone’s company as I have tonight in a long, long while,” he added, his laughing eyes lingering on Leila.  “You’re a very lucky man, Joseph.”

Leila was barely able to get up from the table, but she smiled bravely at Tom and said, “I do believe I am quite lucky myself, Tom.”

“Dinner on the Trans Siberian.  An experience not to be missed,” mused Leila as they made their way back to their quarters.

“And so many more experiences to come, Leila,” said Joseph as he kept his hand gently on the small of her back.  In the other hand he held the wine bottle by its neck.  “So many more.”

After unlocking the door, Leila stumbled in, ready to collapse onto her bed.

“Not so fast, young lady,” Joseph chided.  “I don’t think we’ve finished the wine yet.”

“Oh, I have,” Leila replied. “You go ahead.”

“Very well,” Joseph said, uncorking the bottle and taking a long, languorous drink, as though he were drinking beer on a hot day.

And then he was on her, his mouth on hers.  The wine exploded into her mouth, a firestorm of heat and flavor.  His tongue was inside of her.  The wine warmed its way down her throat as Joseph pinned her against the wall, drinking, swallowing, biting.  His tongue was exploring the inner recesses of her mouth and then her teeth and then he was biting her lips and darting for her neck and ears, all the while breathing heavily, his body pressed hard on hers.

Leila didn’t think it was possible to be aroused again after such a short interlude, but she felt herself reaching heights of orgasm with moments.  Joseph stopped and took another drink from the bottle, this time with less wine. 

“Open your mouth,” he commanded.  She did so.  Slowly, he let the wine trickle into her awaiting mouth and slowly, languorously, his tongue once again explored her, this time gently and teasingly, in and out. 

He would stop, take another sip, and then let it slide down her throat.  On the third or fourth such sip, he said, “Now give it back to me.”

He opened his mouth and let her be the giver.  Shyly at first and then with increasing confidence as his body responded to hers, she began to explore his mouth, finding the top of his gums where they touched his skin and smoothly gliding her tongue across its length.  She found his tongue and sucked it hard.  She tickled his lips and darted her tongue inside and then quickly withdrew it.  Snake-like.

Only the bed lamps were on, leaving the room cast in a warm glow.  The heat was pumping steadily from the ceiling and floor vents while cold bursts of air emanated from the open window, giving the room a wind swept warmth interspersed with frigid air.

“Ah, the wine is gone.  What a shame,” Joseph said, taking a final swig and swallowing it.  Leila was disappointed he hadn’t shared.  “What shall we do now?”

Leila fully expected a tumble onto one of their beds would be the perfect ending to a perfect evening.

“Bedtime?” she suggested demurely, nodding in the direction of her soft duvet and fluffy pillows.  “I’ll share.”

“Oh, I think we are not quite ready for bed yet, Leila.  It’s still early.”

Leila could only imagine what he had in store for her.  He still held the empty green bottle in his hands.

“Oh, very well,” he said suddenly.  “You lie down.  I’m not ready yet.”

Leila felt disappointment coursing through her veins.  Was he playing hard-to-get or was this really the end of their evening?

“I only have one request,” he added and she perked up.

“Yes?”

“Prop your pillows here,” he said, moving her pillows so they were leaning against the wall in the middle of the bed, not at the head. 

“Now, rest your head here.  There you go.  And now put your legs up.”

She followed his directions, propping herself on the pillows and pulling her knees up.  She had a vague idea of what she might be in for.

“That’s right, Leila.  Now spread your legs for me, would you?  There you go.  Nice and wide.”

Slowly, Leila opened her legs to him.

“Finally I can see what I felt at the restaurant,” he breathed throatily.  “What I wanted so badly at the restaurant.  Now I can see your precious flower.”

Leila blushed at his words, his eyes gazing on the crotchless tights that contained her bits.  How was this even happening to her, she wondered.  Just hours ago she thought she would be having an exciting adventure on the Trans Siberian Railway, but this overshadowed her wildest imaginings.

And before she had time to think more, Joseph had taken the wine bottle and plunged its neck inside of her.  She gasped at its coldness, its shape, the steady way that he moved it in and out, how deep he was able to move it inside of her and how well he was able to penetrate and explore with it.

“Do you like it, Leila?” he asked her roughly.  With impatient hands, he pulled the camisole over her head, ripping one of the straps as he did so.  One of his hands was now clutching her right breast still bound by her bra, roughly fingering her nipple, elongating it. 

“Oh, those nipples,” he moaned, before she could answer.  “I am going to make you come with just your nipples one of these days.  Just you wait.”

Leaving the wine bottle still inside of her, its pressure smoothing her wet insides, he quickly pulled both breasts out of their cups, pushing them over the under wire so they plunged forward, nipples straining with anticipation.   They were hard and red, like frost bitten roses.

“Oh, those nipples,” he groaned again.  “Do you know that I almost ejaculated looking at your nipples in the restaurant tonight?  There’s nothing more that I want to do now than touch them, lick them, ravage them.”

Leila waited expectantly.  She had already come, was already panting, but she knew she was ready for more.

“Bring it on,” she thought.

“But I like to draw out pleasure,” he said.  “Especially my own.”

Leila looked at him helplessly, her legs spread, a wine bottle sticking out of her, her breasts spilling out over top of her bra.

“I’m going to sit here on my own bed and watch you make yourself come,” he said.

Leila had seldom made herself come for herself never mind in front of someone else.  She looked perturbed.

“No worries, Leila.  I will guide you.  Just follow my directions.”

Leila nodded, wanting nothing more than for him to touch her, but knowing that he was in control and he would do what he was going to do in his own sweet time.

“First, take the bottle out.”

Leila reached down and he commanded, “Slowly!  Swivel it out slowly.  That’s right.”

Leila began twisting the bottle, easing it out of her.  With each twist she gasped in pleasure.

“There you go.  Take your time.  Theirs is nothing more stimulating than going slowly, Leila.  I will teach you.”

With excruciating pleasure and slowness, Leila released the wine bottle and set it beside her.  As Joseph was issuing his commands, he had stripped off his button shirt, unzipped his pants and was roughly handling his own bucking penis.  He was stroking it hard, then soft, moaning as he slathered it with the juices from his own mouth and those coming out of him already.