What Happened on the Train When the Power Went Out

I took the commuter train just before midnight, later than I usually do, with the exhaustion of my shift still clinging to my back. The whole line was waiting for me until I reached my stop, a succession of sleeping stations I know by heart. The carriage was practically empty, that kind of emptiness that makes every sound bigger: the clack of the doors, the hum of the fluorescent lights, my own heels on the rubber floor.

At the back, by the window, an older man was sitting with his hands crossed over his lap. He had gray hair, a tweed jacket, and a calm expression that, for some reason, made me feel at ease. I sat down beside him on the bench, leaving a polite seat between us.

I always dress the same way, and that night was no exception. A thin blouse with nothing underneath —at twenty I can still get away with it, my tits hold themselves up just fine and my nipples show through every time there’s even a little chill—, a skirt that was way too short, and black stockings with garters that showed halfway up my thigh every time I crossed my legs. Underneath, white lace panties that barely covered my cunt. I felt pretty and a little reckless, that mix that only shows up in the middle of the night.

The train lurched into motion. One station less, I thought, resting my temple against the cold glass.

***

At the next stop, a station called Los Almendros, he got on.

I saw him coming down the aisle and my mouth went dry. He was one of those guys who looked like he’d been cut out of an ad: broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a T-shirt that hinted at the shape of his abs underneath. I did that quick scan we all do in a second and then laugh about with our friends later. I also looked, unable to help myself, at the bulge showing at the fly of his jeans, and I noticed he was already half hard. This one’s edible, was my silent verdict.

Of all the empty seats in the carriage, he chose the middle one. The one I’d left free out of politeness. He sat down so close I could feel the heat of his thigh through my stocking, and a clean scent, like soap with something darker underneath.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked once he was already seated, with a half-smile that made the question ridiculous.

“Not anymore,” I answered, and I was surprised by my own audacity.

The older man said nothing. He was looking straight ahead, but something in the stillness of his body made me suspect he was listening to every word, and that he was enjoying listening.

***

The train crossed a long viaduct and, halfway between Los Almendros and the next station, it braked hard.

It wasn’t a normal stop. It was a sudden jolt, the screech of metal, and then a strange, heavy silence, as if the whole world had held its breath. The lights flickered once, twice, and went out completely. All that remained was the bluish light of the moon coming through the windows and the faint glow of the emergency lights at the back of the carriage.

“Well, damn,” I muttered, more bothered by the darkness than anything else.

The guy put an arm around my shoulders. At first I thought it was a protective gesture, a “don’t worry, it’s fine.” It wasn’t. The hand he had free moved to his lap, unbuttoned the fly of his jeans with two fingers, and lowered the zipper with a metallic purr that in that silence sounded like a gunshot. With the other hand he started pushing my head down, slowly but without hesitation, until I understood exactly what he wanted.

I should have pulled away. That was the interesting part: I didn’t. I licked my lips and let myself be led.

***

He pulled out his cock in the gloom. By the time my face reached his lap, he already had it out, big, hard, throbbing against the palm of his own hand as he stroked it up and down. The moonlight barely outlined it, but the smell of hot skin and the weight of that cock against my cheek made it impossible to ignore. A thick drop gleamed on the tip and I ran my tongue over it, tasting him, drawing the first groan out of him.

“Fuck, you start off well, pretty girl,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Open that little mouth.”

I opened my mouth and he shoved it in, holding me gently but firmly by the nape. I slid down from the seat until I was kneeling on the floor of the carriage, between his spread legs, and felt the cold rubber against my stockings. He was huge, much bigger than I’d imagined in that one-second check: thick at the base, veins standing out, the reddened head brushing my uvula every time he pushed my head down. I sucked him hungrily, coating him in spit, letting a thread of drool run down my chin and soak his balls.

“Like that, like that, take all of it,” he gasped, gripping my hair. “Look at me while you suck me. That’s it. Good girl.”

I lifted my eyes and looked up at him, my lips stretched around his cock and my cheeks hollowed by the suction. I pulled back only to lick the shaft from top to bottom, to take his balls into my mouth one after the other, to spit on the tip and swallow him again all the way to my throat. I licked the head with my tongue flat, in circles, and then buried him so deep tears sprang to my eyes and I stayed there for a few seconds with my nose pressed to his belly, fighting the gag reflex.

“Holy fuck,” he moaned. “What a throat you’ve got, bitch.”

The word should have offended me and instead it made my cunt clench and soak. I felt my lace panties sticking wet to me, a trickle running down the inside of my thigh to the garter. I slipped a hand under my skirt and rubbed my clit through the wet fabric while I kept swallowing him, rocking my ass in the air.

If this is what he can fit in my mouth, what can he fit somewhere else.

The thought made me even wetter. I took him deeper, setting an obscene rhythm, hearing him breathe faster and faster above my head, feeling his thighs tense under my hands.

***

As if he’d read my mind, he grabbed my arms and turned me around.

I ended up on my knees facing the seat back, my denim skirt hiked up any old how over my hips and my ass raised. I heard him let out a low whistle when he saw the view: black stockings digging into my flesh, soaked panties shoved into my slit, my swollen cunt showing through the lace. He yanked the white thong aside with impatient fingers, spat into his palm, ran it over the tip of his cock, and rubbed it along my cunt lips, up and down, soaking it in my wetness before lining up to push in.

He entered me in one thrust, sinking all the way in with a hard slap of his hips against my ass. I let out a guttural moan that bounced around the empty carriage and bit my lip to keep quiet, even though there was no one there who could hear us. No one except the man still sitting a meter away from us, watching everything in silence, his hands crossed over his lap again but this time with a perfectly outlined bulge under his trousers.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” the guy behind me growled, grabbing my hips with both hands. “You’re dripping, slut.”

He started fucking me without mercy, in and out, in and out, with that urgency of someone who knows he won’t last long. The wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of my cunt filled the carriage, mixed with the smacks of his pelvis against my ass and my own gasps. I clung to the seat back with both hands, stockings slipping with sweat, my skirt bunched at my waist, and my tits swaying free under my blouse with every thrust.

“Harder,” I begged, not recognizing my own voice. “Fuck me harder, please.”

He smacked my ass so hard his handprint burned there and sped up, driving into me to the balls. Just as I felt something start to break loose in my belly, the orgasm gathering at the base of my spine, I felt him tense up, grip me harder, drive all the way in and spill inside me with a muffled groan. I felt the spasms of his cock throbbing inside my walls, hot semen flooding me, one spurt after another.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted. “That felt so damn good.”

He collapsed back, undone, writhing in pleasure against the seat with his shiny cock still out and dripping. And I was left halfway there, my cunt throbbing empty and semen streaming down the inside of my thigh, burning hot as a cathedral, my body screaming for what it had not quite gotten to have.

***

That was when the older man moved for the first time.

He didn’t say anything right away. He leaned toward me with absolute calm and gave me a soft kiss just below the ear, on the lobe, a brush of lips that made my whole skin prickle.

“Come here, go on,” he whispered, in a deep, steady voice that allowed no rushing.

He held out his hand and helped me up. He sat me on his lap, sideways, like someone settling down a person who needs to catch their breath. I was still shaking, still throbbing inside, and between my thighs I could feel the sticky trail of what the guy had left dripping out of me.

The man pulled a cloth handkerchief from his jacket pocket. With a tenderness that undid me, he started drying me, moving it slowly between my legs, from bottom to top, parting the lace and cleaning my cunt lips with an old-fashioned patience. The feel of the fabric against my sensitive skin sent a shiver through me, a current that was anything but innocent. When the finger under the handkerchief brushed my swollen clit, I jumped and a moan escaped me.

“You’re trembling,” he observed, with a half-smile I guessed more than saw in the darkness.

“It’s not from the cold,” I admitted.

“I know, my girl. I know.”

He put the handkerchief aside and replaced the cloth with his fingers. Two of them, thick, calloused, that opened me carefully and sank inside with maddening slowness. I arched into his hand, my mouth open against his neck, and bit him without meaning to when he curved his fingers upward and found that exact spot the guy had completely ignored.

“There, there,” I whispered. “Please.”

“Shh. Not yet.”

***

When he pulled his fingers out, he noticed the unmistakable tug low in my belly. Shit, my period. I’d been waiting for it all day and it had picked the worst possible moment to show up. I saw the reddish sheen on his fingertips in the blue moonlight and tensed up, mortified.

He noticed right away. He brought his fingers to his mouth without looking away from me and sucked them slowly, shamelessly, one by one.

“Don’t worry about where you stain, my girl,” he murmured against my ear. “You just do your thing. Enjoy yourself and leave the rest to me.”

And without waiting for an answer, he lifted me with astonishing ease for his age and bent me forward, my hands braced on the seat back in front of me and my ass well offered. I heard him lowering his trousers behind me, the clink of his belt, and then I felt the weight of his cock —thicker than I’d have bet, hard as a rock— rubbing between my cheeks.

I felt him settling behind me, felt him run his thumbs through my soaked cunt to lube himself properly, then search for another path, narrower, more forbidden. He rested the head at my ring and pressed patiently, a millimeter at a time, whispering all the while for me to breathe, to relax, to trust him. He entered slowly, giving me time, loosening me with circular caresses on my clit while the ring gave way centimeter by centimeter.

“That’s it, my girl. Open up for me. Swallow me whole.”

The initial sting turned into a dense, dark fullness, unlike anything before. When he was all the way in, his balls pressed against my dripping cunt, I let out a long groan I no longer tried to hold back. He started moving with short, deep thrusts, barely pulling out, giving my ass a steady rhythm that shot up my spine like an electric shock. The fingers of his other hand kept massaging my clit, slick with my own blood and with the guy’s semen still dripping from me.

“You squeeze me so nicely, little slut,” he panted into my nape. “What a nice ass you’ve got.”

I gripped the seat with white knuckles and pushed back to take him even deeper.

***

By then the guy had recovered.

I saw him lie down on the bench, on his back, his cock hard again, shiny, and a naughty-boy smile on his face as he stroked it while watching us. I understood what they were about to offer me without anyone saying a word. I got on all fours over him, with the older man still solid behind me, not pulling out of my ass, and let the kid guide his cock to my cunt and slam it into me all the way to the hilt.

The howl that tore out of me wasn’t human. I had them both inside me at once, one in each hole, separated by a paper-thin wall that clenched and pulsed. I had never in my life felt so full, so open, so at anyone’s mercy.

“Fuck, I can feel her through the other side,” the kid growled, looking over my shoulder at the old man. “You’re splitting her open, man.”

“Keep up, boy,” he answered with incredible calm, never stopping. “When I come out, you go in. We’re going to leave her brand new.”

And they started. One went in while the other pulled out, a coordinated rhythm that turned me into a toy between two bodies. I was trapped between them, with hardly any room to move, held up by four hands that knew exactly what they were doing. One in front, one behind, every thrust from one driving me into the other. My tits had spilled out of my blouse and hung swinging over the boy’s chest, and he grabbed them and pinched my nipples every time he shoved his cock into my cunt. The carriage smelled of sweat and sex and blood, the wheels still stood frozen on the viaduct, and I had stopped thinking about anything except the pleasure rising in waves through me.

“Like that, my girl, like that,” the older man whispered against my nape, setting the pace. “Faster now. Come on. That’s it. Clench that ass for me.”

“I’m not going to last,” I moaned, my voice shredded. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“Don’t hold back. Come on his cock, slut. Let him feel it.”

***

The orgasm ripped out of me.

It came from very deep down, a shock that ran from the top of my head to my feet and left me convulsing between the two bodies, moaning things I don’t remember, clutching the guy’s T-shirt like I was about to fall. My cunt clenched around the boy’s cock in uncontrollable spasms, my ass closed around the old man’s, and I felt them both groan at once, trapped in my contractions. The guy came first, arching beneath me, shooting a second torrent inside me as abundant as the first. The older man lasted a few more thrusts and then buried himself to the balls and spilled into my ass with a long, broken gasp, filling me from behind too.

I felt the blood, I felt the hot semen of both of them pouring inside me and dripping down my thighs, felt everything blur into a single incandescent point. I couldn’t say what weighed more: the double vertigo of having them both at once, my freshly arrived period making everything cruder and more real, or that deep, patient voice whispering in my ear to let go.

All I know is that it was, without question, the best fuck of my life.

***

The lights came back on as suddenly as they had gone out. The hum of the fluorescent lights, the hiss of the brakes releasing, the loudspeaker apologizing for the delay.

When the carriage brightened again, the three of us were already seated on the bench, our clothes more or less back in place, staring ahead like any three passengers. My panties were soaked with everything dripping out of me and my skirt was stuck to my thighs, but I hid it by crossing my legs. The boy got off two stations later without saying a word, only one last sideways glance and that impossible smile. The older man stayed until the end of the line, just like me.

Before getting up at my stop, he brushed the back of my hand with one finger.

“Good night, my girl,” he said, and nothing more.

I got off onto the platform with my legs still weak, my heart racing and both holes throbbing full. I don’t know their names, I don’t know if I’ll ever take that commuter train at the same hour again with the secret hope that it happens once more. I’m only here to tell you about it. And, if I’m being honest, part of me is already dying for that train to lose power again.