An ordinary afternoon. An unusual dawn.
Going from one corner to another, choosing that path… Everything was very common.
Waking up on the trails, jolting in Maria Fumaça until your body was wet with drops of sweat. I needed to be a cat. Lick me and refresh my skin. Ease the desire. Put on safety shoes and give possession of my body to someone.
In that carriage, about forty people were crammed together. It's hard to notice someone. Even if a profile caught my attention, I wouldn't lose that tired, discouraged look and I wouldn't stop sweating. There was still more, that constant tearing of sadness. I wouldn't let go of that. I wanted to suffer from hate. But not. It still hurt slightly. Permanently, it hurt.
If a body moved through the crowd, like grass in the wind, everything in the carriage moved. Everyone arranged themselves to allow his passage. I just looked, without intervening in the white eyes, which disguised the naturalness of this person's passing.
The heat possessed me. I deluded my desires by opening and closing my legs. As if fanning my sex with the inner parts of my thighs.
The landscape passed before my eyes like an invitation. I leaned over. I delighted in the wind entering me. It felt like my feet were running away from me.
Everything passed except for a breath that touched the back of my neck. I froze.
Was it really someone behind me… Someone so close that I could feel their breath and the heat of their breath?
My whole body felt cold and I could immediately feel a touch. Light and moist, a touch of small fingers that I measured as great desires.
Would someone be able to catch me in that crowd… Taunt me in the midst of my tears?
In secret, it contained me... I remained.
I felt. I doubted myself, my liking, my wanting. But the touch remained, too.
Permanently sweet on my body, only one finger moved. And the hand, flat on my ass, marked the time of the trail, as if marking its moment, its terrain. It marked me as a piece, an object without a relic. And that pleased me. It made me feel used.
The carriage seemed full and in that small carriage I was being touched by the hands of a person who, together with others, crowded and crowded together. One on top of the other.
Of course, no one looked at me.
My chest swelled with desire and I suggested hiding it from people. I turned more towards the window. It seemed like it wanted to offer me more... And the hand accepted me... And I turned around, delicately so that it wouldn't feel vulgar... I wanted to disappear... Disintegrate myself... Or simply, give myself over to the hands that burned me at the touch. Power of skin that touches skin.
So I could feel wanted… Could I feel wanted and close my eyes? And hand me over?
He raised his hand... He invited me to the lair. And I wanted it! It said my sex... They said my thoughts to me... I throbbed and waited... No! I begged for that touch to never end. That it would evolve and that I could give myself completely. That I could live through all of that. And she got into my little pants. I must have felt how wet that situation made me.
I don't even know if they're watching. If you can see me. Looking me in the eye, certainly not! My eyes don't look. I think they reviewed it. The landscape looks at me and seems to smile at me. And on this fantastic journey of dreams, I see myself losing, once again, my naive virginity... That damn gourd that hurt me once. That gave birth to the fear of sex, that for some time made me wait for enjoyment.
Today it doesn't hurt. Today it is a delicate delight. Until it becomes the brutal sequence of movements. Of going in and out, of getting involved in soups, of rising up to the clouds. Today he makes me feel life in my waist. He invites me to roll. He spreads my legs and lifts my ass. Blessed gourd, friend.
Where does this magic come from that makes me imagine your face? Your smell and you in possession of my ass? Come in... You have permission to tear my body apart and drive me crazy! Obediently, he read my thoughts. That hand entered me, revealing me in caves.
Oh, what a great desire. And this hand that seems to know what provokes me.
From time to time, he seems to stop his movements, I don't know if it's because of the looks or if he's listening to the uncontrollable groans of his soul.
My nipples perk up and ask for more… They ask for you to touch them. Discreetly, without realizing it, I feel drunk and my head falls to the side, asking for help from the window grille.
Grinding wheel, now with rhythm. The hand, still, feeds the fantasy and takes me seriously. I bite my lips to keep from shouting my secret to the green fields. I'm the one who rubs myself against those fingers braided in my hair. I'm the one who directs my fingers to touch the magic button that will take me to climax and I'm the one who contracts my thighs as if wanting to drown that hand in me. I want it all inside me. Punch me and bring my joy like a wild sorrel.
I rub, and I rub, and I rub... a delirium that already makes my eyes roll... the rhythm... happy this landscape with the smell of stolen sex... I rub, and I rub, and I rub...
– Ticket! Says the cabin attendant... In a flash of lucidity, I pull myself together and run towards the central carriage. I don't know what happened and I try to hide my lust that seems to be printed on my lips that have swollen.
I look like sex, like someone who got out of bed and fucked. Everyone seems to be looking at me and I suspect it was used by every man on that train. I feel used and with an uncontrollable desire for more that burns my insides. I would give it to that stranger all night. That hand made me more of a woman in the crowd than all the men I had in my life.
I look at the lit sign. Checkers. That's where I'm going.
I cross the narrow corridor where people are jostling in front of a small line. I look forward to it. Another woman stands in line. She also seems to have an emergency. Her Rayban glasses hide half of her beauty. She cleverly disguises her youthful vigor. I smile.
The queue is eaten by time and my turn arrives. I enter. And to my surprise, the Rayban girl forces entry into her, too. I'm surprised and try to propose that she go ahead. She shuts my mouth with her hand and pushes me into the small booth.
I try to argue and she shuts me up, this time with a suck on the lips, which if it weren't for the vigor, I could call it a kiss. It almost hurts me and I try to resist. I try to leave, I try, I don't know how, to end that situation, right there. But she was so fast. And if I left there with her, what would the people in the line that should already be forming say? I didn't understand anything. She felt me and put her nimble hands inside my clothes. She seemed to be looking for something, a jewel that I had hidden in my body. When I tried to ask her for an explanation again, her voracious tongue invaded my mouth and wrapped itself around my tongue.
I started to appreciate that. It felt like I was part of a painting, a surreal painting. She had complete control of the situation and I liked that. She barely let go of my kiss, she left me with my mouth open waiting for more tongue, and it flew to my nipples. In that cramped cube, the heat was unbearably exciting. Her mouth was making misery. And while she sucked my breast, sometimes one of my nipples, her hand squeezed my other breast as if it were already hers. I was traveling in that reality. I had never even had any kind of intimacy with women. And that one... she seemed so young to me and yet, she taught me body movements. She used parts of me that I had never used. She pulled my belly forward with a strong fist, rubbing herself against my pubis. Everything in rhythm. All at once. She was crazy with lust. I lacked nothing.
It was then that his smart hand slipped inside my clothes and I had a moment of clarity so strong that I stopped his journey. I held his hand, preventing him from continuing. I recognized that touch. It was the man's hand. Which only then did I know was hers. This couldn't be happening. She charitably gave me thirty measly seconds to question. It was time to remove my Rayban glasses, stick his tongue in my mouth and in a long kiss, wet from my taste, he began to describe what he was feeling. The amount of desires that the situation provoked in her, what she would like to do with my naked body on a bed... I allowed those words to dominate my hearing. Again, I opened up to her. It was like an invitation between my wobbly legs. My sex said: Come in! I'm in her hands...
She kissed me and mouthed horny words and her eyes remained open. And it was such a beautiful and naive look, but a look like someone who knew what to do in the next moment. It was the most incredible kiss I've ever had.
I opened my eyes wide, opened my blouse, my heart and finally my legs even more. She was delirious and told me in my ear that she was going to fuck me deliciously, like no man had ever fucked me before. That I would be, for a few minutes, treated like a queen... and she would suck my breasts, my mouth, my tongue and her mouth would travel over my belly, my neck, my shoulders and we would squeeze into the cubicle, and she would seem to dance... Of your movements are so beautiful.
Gently, but full of vigor, she helped me sit on the sink. My panties followed the romp and were already on the floor. Quickly, without me feeling it or having time to show any resistance, she had already taken it off. I was naked from the waist down, with my blouse open and my legs spread wide open with a woman in between them. And he was happy. My chest heaved and moans came out of my mouth like smiles.
Never had a mouth done so many delicious pirouettes on my vulva. Her tongue was truly magical. She was very applied in tactile teachings. She sucked me in the right place and at such a rhythm that even a samba school dancer would feel inspired. That mouth was doing samba. I rolled around as much as I could, I couldn't sit still without falling head over heels for the charms of casual sex.
I wanted to scream that I loved it, but her hand covered my mouth, and gently, between licks and licks of my clitoris, she spoke softly, to the sound of the tracks creaking: – I know! I know…
I was about to cum. I wanted to flood that train with my pleasure. My eyes were still watering, but now for a different reason. I wanted her to enter me and stay like a dear visitor.
His hand prepared. She entered me with two of his biggest fingers. I almost didn't even feel it, such was my excitement. I was open, ready to receive it. And she came. And her tongue remained in me. Three. And I asked for more to come. I wanted them all. Four. Her hand tightened. Her fingers came together. Five. All. The fist. And I exploded in joy. There were two or three multiple cumshots. And I moved my hips. In that tightness. In that frenzy I moved and screamed. And the train whistled. He stopped the train. The rustling of the tracks and the engine stopping. Arriving. She pulled her hand away, carefully. I felt strong pressure. Bearable and fair, given the intensity of the enjoyment. She helped me get down from the sink. She washed her hand. She put on her Raybans and got off at that same station.
