A Trip to the Sea. Part One

The train rolled eastward, its wheels clattering against the rails in a monotonous rhythm, lulling the passengers to sleep. In the cramped compartment, Lyudmila Borisovna and her eighteen-year-old daughter Elina had settled on the lower and upper bunks respectively, trying to get comfortable after a long day of travel. The air was stuffy, saturated with the smells of sweat, cheap soap, and something else—something musky, heavy, that made Lyudmila occasionally steal a deeper breath. They had gone to the seaside together, her husband and older son had stayed home—work wouldn't let them go. Elina, like all teenagers, immediately put on her headphones and stared at her phone. Soon, their new neighbor entered the compartment,

Lyudmila immediately felt her body react to him. Oleg—that's how he introduced himself—was a tall, broad-shouldered man, looking about forty, with a smoothly shaved head and piercing brown eyes that seemed to see right through her. His smile was lazy, slightly mocking, and his voice was low, velvety, sending a slight shiver down her spine. He carefully placed his backpack on the third bunk and greeted them. He settled on the lower bunk opposite Lyudmila. Lyudmila also greeted him and smiled coquettishly, while Elina didn't react at all. For a while, they rode in silence, only occasionally exchanging standard phrases. The fourth occupant of the compartment never showed up. The neighbor and Lyudmila struck up a conversation; as it turned out, his name was Oleg. Dinner time was approaching, and Lyudmila took out her provisions, deciding to make the meal a shared one. Oleg had a bottle of good Spanish wine with him. He offered it to Lyudmila, and Elina was also allowed to drink a couple of glasses, as Lyudmila put it, "for a good sleep."

"Do you often travel alone with your daughter?" Oleg asked, taking a sip of wine and not taking his eyes off her.

"Not that often," Lyudmila replied, feeling her voice become slightly hoarse. She took a sip—the wine was smooth, but now it seemed to burn her throat with a pleasant fire. "But sometimes I have to."

"A pity," Oleg leaned back on the bunk, stretching out to his full length. His t-shirt tightened over his powerful chest, outlining the muscle definition. "A beautiful woman shouldn't travel alone."

"I'm married, it's just that my husband and son couldn't come," Lyudmila said bitterly.

"No..." Lyudmila whispered weakly, but her body said otherwise—she spread her legs a little wider, giving him access.

Oleg smirked, his fingers pressed harder on her clit, making her shudder.

"You're lying," his voice was low, confident. "You're already all wet. Let me check."

His hand slid, and Lyudmila barely held back a moan when he touched her bare, swollen-from-arousal pussy. His fingers were rough, coarse, and it only intensified the sensations.

"God..." she bit her lip, trying not to make sounds, afraid of waking Anastasia.

"Quiet," Oleg covered her mouth with his palm, simultaneously sliding two fingers inside her. "Don't you want your little girl to wake up and see her mommy getting fucked by an uncle on the train?"

Those words should have shocked her, but instead, they only aroused her more. She imagined Elina waking up, seeing a strange man fingering her mother, and that thought made her pussy clench around his fingers.

Oleg felt it and smirked.

"You like that idea, huh?" he added a third finger, stretching her, while pressing his thumb against her clit. "Imagine her watching us while I fuck you with my big friend?"

Lyudmila trembled, her orgasm washing over her in a wave, unstoppable, burning. She dug her fingers into his wrist, trying to hold back a scream, but all that escaped her throat was a muffled, stifled moan. Oleg didn't stop, his fingers moved inside her faster, harder, until she came, her juices gushing onto his hand, soaking it with her own wetness.

"Good girl," he whispered, slowly pulling out his fingers and licking them, not taking his eyes off her. "Now let's see how well you fuck."

He stood up, and his huge cock—thick, pulsating, with a swollen head already glistening with pre-cum. Lyudmila had never seen anything like it—it was bigger than any man she had been with before, let alone bigger than her husband's. She should have been scared, but instead, she felt her mouth fill with saliva and the fire between her legs ignite again.

Oleg took her by the back of her head and pulled her closer.

"Open your mouth," he ordered.

And she obeyed.