What Happened on the Night Train in Front of My Husband

We stepped into our assigned compartment with the euphoria of people who are finally beginning something they’ve been waiting for a long time. The trip was starting in Barcelona and heading to Milan, and at last, after postponing it so many times, our honeymoon was beginning. It was a night train: we boarded at seven in the evening and, after almost fifteen hours on the tracks, we would arrive the next morning.

We both loved trains. It seemed far more exciting to cross half of Europe that way, watching the landscape slide by the window, than to shut ourselves away in an airplane. There was something like an old film about the idea, and that put us in a special mood.

A little context before going on. I’m thirty-four and my husband, Renzo, is forty-nine. We’re Argentinians of Italian descent, we had been together for eight years, and we had only been married for one. We’d delayed the honeymoon because of work: he’d been promoted and it wasn’t a good time for him to be away, so we waited until everything settled down.

I worked for many years as a commercial model and, over time, opened my own school. I’m tall, firm-bodied, with delicate features, green eyes, and a long blond mane. I’m not saying that out of vanity, but because it’s part of this story: I’m used to being looked at, and Renzo loves to provoke those looks.

My husband likes admiring me, and even more, he likes watching how men react when I walk by. Our intimacy has always been charged with that kind of kink: fantasizing about other people’s eyes, imagining situations, taking desire one step beyond the bedroom.

The compartment had four bunks arranged like a sleeper berth, and in the center, a wide window to enjoy the view. We’d been assigned one of the last cars, which we appreciated for the peace and quiet. It was a long journey and sleeping there saved us a hotel night.

For a moment, we thought the compartment would be just ours. But after a while a young man arrived with his ticket in hand, Italian, just over twenty. He greeted us politely and settled into the lower bunk. He was going to be our travel companion.

The train pulled out. The fourth bed stayed empty for the entire trip.

I was wearing loose but short denim shorts and a fuchsia top. Since we had blankets, I hadn’t bothered to dress warmly; honestly, I almost never do.

Renzo and I sat together on the lower bunk, and the young man stayed across from us, looking out the window. We started up a friendly conversation with him. Luckily, he spoke very good Spanish, and that helped break the ice right away.

He told us he was going to visit his mother, who lived near the border, and that he was studying architecture. We chatted about a little bit of everything. My husband, who is as charming and talkative as very few people, created a relaxed, pleasant atmosphere in a matter of minutes.

We were enjoying the conversation and the landscape. At one point, Renzo asked me to find the bottle of limoncello and the glasses from the bag we had left on the upper bunk, so we could toast to the trip. I understood his intention at once: I stood with my back to the young man and went up on my toes to reach the bag, shamelessly giving him a better angle.

The three of us toasted and things got cheerful. I put on some music on my phone, not too loud so as not to bother the neighbors, and started moving to the rhythm. I began playfully, almost as a joke, but I got more and more aroused. I could see Renzo’s face and tell how much he was enjoying it.

I moved my hips more. He caressed my waist, my hair, my breasts over the fabric, taking responsibility for nothing, laughing in a playful, mischievous way. The young man tried to keep his composure, but it was obvious he liked it. He laughed a little nervously, and I saw how, discreetly, he adjusted the pillow over his lap to hide what the situation was doing to him.

Renzo and I exchanged knowing looks. We were both very turned on. Many times we had fantasized about me being with another man in front of him, and this was the perfect opportunity: a stranger, the night, a compartment that seemed pulled from a dream. I whispered in his ear whether he’d like to see me in action. He answered that he’d love to.

—Do you think I should put on my satin nightgown so I can travel more comfortably? —I asked aloud, in an innocent tone.

—Of course, my love, but change here. I don’t think Matteo will mind, will you? —Renzo said, looking at him.

The young man shook his head, shy, not daring to say a word.

I turned my back to him and slowly pulled down the shorts, without bending my knees, smiling wickedly at my husband. Underneath I was wearing a tiny thong. I took off my top and was left bare-chested. The compartment air grew thick, hot. I saw Matteo swallow hard.

The nightgown was loose, short, burgundy, with the entire back exposed. I slipped it on as if it were nothing, deliberately taking my time.

Matteo lay back and covered himself with a blanket, but he couldn’t hide the bulge pushing up beneath the fabric. The light was dim; night had already fallen outside the window.

—Buona notte —he murmured, as if looking for an elegant way out.

I looked at Renzo. He gave me an approving gesture. I sat on the edge of the young man’s bunk and started stroking him over the blanket. I could feel how hard he was. I was very aroused, my nipples taut.

—You going to sleep already? —I asked him softly.

I pulled the blanket back and he let me do it. The three of us were enjoying it, each from our own place. I leaned in and began working him with my mouth, slowly, eagerly. I was braced on the bunk, my body arched, giving Renzo a privileged view of my whole silhouette.

I lowered his pants just enough to free him, and the heat of his cock was already hitting my face before I had it fully in hand. I took care of him with dedication, alternating between caresses and sucking, taking him to the edge with my tongue wet, firm, unhurried. Matteo trembled when I took him deeper, and I held his thighs so he wouldn’t slip away from me. His breathing became broken, rough, and he had to clench his teeth not to moan too loudly. That restraint made everything more intense.

I sat up. He pulled the nightgown straps down off my shoulders and caressed my breasts hungrily, squeezing my tits hard, sinking his fingers into the flesh until he made me gasp. I finished taking off the garment and the thong, and turned so he could return the attention. Then I asked him to get into position over me, so we could please each other at the same time, face to face.

He did. The closeness was total, the rhythm turned urgent. He opened my legs wide and settled between them, brushing my clit with his hard cock while I licked him and swallowed his dick hungrily. He warned me he was about to finish and I held him so he could do it without rushing. I squeezed his ass, pushed him a little more against my mouth, and let him spill over. Feeling that moment was electric, a jolt that left both of us breathless for an instant.

Matteo lay back down again. I kept going for a while longer, sucking him until he became sensitive, and then I pulled away with a wet mouth, my tongue full of his taste and my lips shining. Renzo watched us from the side, stroking himself, aroused but unhurried, savoring every detail.

***

A few minutes later, the young man was hard again. This time he knew it would last longer. I made him stand up and we touched each other by the window, while the train moved through the darkness. He held my hips with more and more confidence, and I braced myself on the window frame, feeling the cold glass against my forehead.

—Do you like my wife? —Renzo asked him, with that calm of his that made everything even more provocative.

—Very much, sir —Matteo replied, still somewhat shy.

—And you certainly show it —my husband laughed—. Enjoy her, that’s what we’re here for.

I bent down for a moment to make sure everything was ready and went back to the previous position, with my back to him, looking at the landscape through the window. He started slowly, as I asked, without rushing. I arched myself to match him. That young man had more experience than he let on.

I felt him brushing my entrance, felt him settling between my legs and pushing little by little, opening me with a delicious pressure. I let myself be taken, breathing deeply, while he entered me from behind and the train seemed to creak with us. The rocking was steady, each thrust made my belly tremble and my tits bounce in time with his body. Matteo grabbed my hips harder, gained confidence, and started fucking me decisively, deep, driving his cock all the way in. I pressed one hand against the fogged-up glass and with the other I held onto the bunk so I wouldn’t lose my balance.

I let myself be carried away while I watched the lights of some lost little town race by on the other side of the glass. Renzo sat down beside me and took my hand. With the other he was stroking himself.

—How’s your honeymoon going? —he asked in my ear.

—Incredible, my love —I answered between sighs—. Thank you for this trip.

Matteo held me firmly and picked up the pace. He kept driving his cock into me insistently, until he tore moans from me that I muffled by biting my lips. Pleasure kept building, thick, brutal, until I came intensely, my legs trembling and my breath cut short. He gave a couple more thrusts, went rigid all over, and finished shortly after, exhausted and grateful.

Somewhat embarrassed by the intensity of it all, he pulled away. I politely asked him to go to the café car for a while so we could have some privacy. The moment he left, Renzo and I embraced with a kink I don’t remember ever feeling before. He was so hard that this time he didn’t last very long. He pulled me against him, kissed me hungrily, and took me back onto the bunk, where he spread my legs and fucked me fast, with an almost savage need. Afterward we curled up on the lower bunk, wrapped around each other, still pulsing from everything we’d done, and fell asleep, exhausted from the trip and from the night.

***

When I woke up, dawn was breaking. I felt Renzo waking against my back, still wanting more. On the bunk across from us, Matteo was asleep, but morning had also found him ready.

I shifted just enough to wake my husband and pointed the scene out to him with my eyes.

—Going for your breakfast? —he whispered, amused.

—That’s right —I replied.

—Very good, go ahead.

I crossed the compartment, lifted the young man’s blanket, and began to take care of him calmly. He woke up startled, but once he realized what was happening he relaxed right away and surrendered to my care. Renzo watched us from his bunk, enjoying the morning show.

I took his cock in my hand, stroked it slowly, then leaned down to suck him patiently, enjoying every reaction from his body. I placed a pillow on the floor and knelt a little to one side, so my husband could see clearly. Matteo sat on the edge of the bed. At times I brought his hands to my head so he could set the pace, and he started fucking my mouth with more confidence, pushing only a little, measuring the pressure. I kept up with him until I felt he couldn’t take any more; then I pulled back just enough and let the end reach me across my face and lips, warm, thick, staining my skin and my taste.

I turned toward Renzo, who had his phone in hand recording everything. He took photos and a couple of videos for our private memory while I cleaned myself with my fingers, looking him in the eyes.

Matteo, who had already understood our dynamic, discreetly stepped away to leave us alone. Then I gave myself to my husband with fury and tenderness at once, feeling more desired than ever. He lifted me up, pressed me against the window, and whispered the most intimate things in my ear while we watched the mountains cut into the distance in the first light of day.

He opened my legs again, held me by the waist, and entered me slowly at first, enjoying the dampness still running between my thighs. Then he started moving me against the glass, tightening the rhythm, making our bodies collide with that urgency that only appears once there’s no shame left. The compartment filled with our gasps, the friction of skin, and the sway of the bunk barely banging with each thrust. I clung to his shoulders, he held me steady, and he fucked me with that mix of tenderness and brutality he always had with me, until he left me trembling again.

By then the train was more awake. Even though the compartment had a door, the glass offered little privacy, and that, far from embarrassing us, only turned us on more.

The rest of the trip went quietly. The three of us were smiling and in good spirits because of the night’s complicity. We kept talking with Matteo, who every now and then worked up the nerve to brush my leg when he thought no one was looking.

Before getting off, we promised him we would invite him for a drink at the hotel one of the days we were staying in Milan.

But that’s another story.

I hope you enjoyed it. I read your comments.