Chapter 2 – Chapter 2
Charlene's compartment was dark and the shade was drawn down on the window opening onto the corridor. Lights were flashing all over the compartment walls, ceiling, and floor in no discernible pattern as the train chugged through the night into New South Wales from Victoria past lights in and on buildings that streamed by. The train itself was rocking in a rhythmic pattern combining motion and the sounds of steel wheels on uneven iron rails.
Charlene was reclining into the back corner of the bed that had been made up while they were in the bar car. Shaka, his jacket and shirt already off, his chest muscular, his puffy nipples black on chocolate brown revealed now in reflected light coming in from the window and covered by darkness when the light had flashed by, was encircling Charlene's back with his left arm. The bodice of her dress was unbuttoned down to the waist and her frilly bra was open. She had the presence of mind to be glad she bought one that hooked in front so that there hadn't been any awkwardness in unsheathing her breasts. He was an expert in this, though, so it probably would not have been an impediment. He obviously was a determined man; he would have worked it out.
She was thrusting her chest up to meet his mouth. He was sucking on her nipples, going from one to the other, and nuzzling her breasts with his cheek in his travels. His right hand was snaked up under the hem of her dress and had traveled up, up, and up, moving under the leg hole of her frilly panties. He had a thick thumb thrumming her clit and a beefy index finger inside her cunt. Charlene was moaning and rocking on the finger. Her head was arched back, her eyes watching the pattern of lights flashing from outside the window and murmuring, "Yes, yes, yes" over and over.
Shaka's mouth moved down Charlene's torso, and he repositioned himself kneeling on the floor of the compartment between her thighs, which he spread with his hands after he'd gathered the hem of her dress around her waist, slipped her panties off her legs, and pressed his face into her cunt. He had dexterously inserted her red-slippered left foot into the loop of a safety-grab strap on the wall by the bench and was holding her right leg spread and raised with his left hand. She rocked her pelvis against his face and softly mewed her surrender. He had pulled his left arm from around her back, no longer worrying about keeping her in place and under his control. He knew that she was in for the long haul now—the long, thick slide inside her. Indeed, there had been no resistance from her. He loved fucking needy married women. They all craved black cock.
His trousers were unbuckled, unbuttoned, unzipped, and flared open and she already had gotten the measure of his long, thick, black cock—justifying the rumors—with her hand and then with her mouth and throat as he had crouched in front of where she'd sat on the bed. Her willingness and capability had let him know that she'd had a history before her inattentive, old husband came into the picture.
Better to fuck you by, he'd let run through his brain. She, indeed, was ripe for it.
"Now, now," she murmured after his tongue and lips had taken her breath away and given her an explosion—and then another—and he rose up over her, hooked her legs on his hips, and moved in for the kill. Crying out "Yes, yes, YES!" again and panting hard, groaning, and grasping his now bare hips in her hands, digging her fingernails in, he entered her and held for several moments for her to adjust to the thickness of him. The steady rocking motion of the train, was already animating the fuck, though. He was rocking inside her and she was rocking her hips against his groin. She cried out, "Oh, Fuck!" as he began to pump.
An hour and a half later, before he rose off her, Charlene stretched out on her back on the bed, one arm dangling over the side of the bed and the hand of the other one cupping the back of Shaka's head, Shaka dipped down and feasted on her nipples again. She lay there, exhausted, running her fingers through his long, black hair, which she'd loosed from a tight bun on the back of his head. Her legs were open, turned outward. She was keeping her cunt fully accessible to him, not being able to get enough of the big, black cock. Her eyes were glazed over, a slight smile on her lips, her mouth gently blowing bubbles.
Releasing a nipple he'd been teasing with his teeth, Shaka moved his lips to her ear. "Cruise to New Zealand with me. Sleep in my bed. I'll give you the attention you need, want, and deserve. We'll play the violin and cello for the passengers by day and I'll fuck you on the big bed in the master's cabin every night."
"I can't. I'm a married woman," Charlene murmured in a weary voice that may not even have convinced herself.
"I love fucking married women," Shaka responded.