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The sleeper train from Penzance isn't built like regular trains. The first four carriages are not to be boarded externally, incase sleepy passengers are wakened by rowdy locals.
The remaining are carriages are more spacious than usual, being only three seats across as opposed to four. The seats are broader and deeper, but there's no money so all the stuffing has been knocked out of them and it's probably going to be the least comfortable sleep of your life.
Wide windows which would otherwise show picture postcard scenery are black and shiny like obsidian, racing through the dark countryside. Thin curtains can be pulled on tracks to keep the night out, but then that would ruin my fun.
Our seats are in the last coach. There doesn't appear to be any other seats reserved until Plymouth. We have some time to play with. The ticket inspector has been through once already. We won't see him again for a while: there are limited stops s on this train.
I turn to face you. You know from the glint in my eye that I've mischief in mind, and taking my head in your hand, with my hair wrapped around your fingers, you enquire just what it is I'd like to do.
I love to watch us play. The quiet carriage; the broad tables between sets of seats. From our reservations, I can see our reflections in the window. The slight tapering in the construction of the carriage gives a differing reflection in the window on the far side of the compartment. I can see you, looking at me, watching you.
Kissing you is intoxicating. That perfect cupid's bow, on the sensuous cushions of your intensely desirable lips, framed by the softest goatee bristle. Whether I nibbled at those lips like so many hungry fish, or attempt to slake my thirst with Esenyurt Escort kisses as deep as the Mariana Trench, I will never get enough. I take a kiss from you now, pinning you back against the seat and inhaling your scent deeply.
You wrestle from underneath me to gain control of the situation. (There's no need to fight - I am yours, after-all.)

Standing in the aisle of the carriage and ready to brace myself against a sudden jolt of the train, I remove my knickers where I stand and cast them in your face. I know you want me, and I know you won't let this cheek go un-punished. Immediately I prostrate myself across the table and offer you my bare ass-cheeks for punishment as I lift my skirt above my waist and tuck the fabric out of the way. Straight ahead of me I can see my face reflected in the dark mirroring glass. My eyes shine with excitement, (my cunt is wet with anticipation). I look up and can see the pale moon of my ass reflected in the black Cornish countryside. I see your face, hungry with desire to punish