Sheila 1: The Train Tracks

by Zephyr

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© Copyright 2015 - Zephyr - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; exhib; naked; outdoor; bound; rope; susp; nipple; toys; insert; tease; denial; climax; cons; X

Chapter 01: The Train Tracks

Sheila and I had known each other for about a year, been dating about six months, but had been into the kinky side of her personality for only a few weeks. As a matter of fact, this was the first time she had ever tried to get anyone to see or even witness what she called one of her major games. She had been wanting to show me something, that she said was one of her hottest self-bondage things, something she had done to herself many times before and never failed to wind up sexually exhausted every time she did it. Of course I was interested but she wouldn't tell me much more about it, she said she was afraid I'd think her weird. She finally, after a lot of prodding and a little bit of threatening, volunteered that it involved her hanging by her wrists from a railroad bridge. She wouldn't tell me any more, just wanted my promise that I would do whatever she asked and reassured me that it obviously didn't hurt her, and it would be worth my time to watch.

We both went to a college of reasonable reputation, out in the desert just a hundred or so miles from the coast. The town our college was in was medium-sized, the foundations of the town split between a few small manufacturing companies, the college on the south side, and supporting the major railroad line that ran along the extreme north side of town.

Sheila was a truly gorgeous babe. Twenty years old, long blonde hair, a tanned, hourglass body, more than most men even dream about. And she was a pricktease, a big one. Short skirts or shorts always, often something braless or slit way up or otherwise showing a lot of tan skin.

We got to know each other one night after I had offered to help her finish a term paper, I was the computer lab assistant, it was late and just her and me left in the lab fifteen minutes before closing, and she needed help. The really short skirt on her halter dress insured she got all the attention she needed. After the lab closed we retired to more private quarters and activities that had nothing to do with computers or term papers.

But she needed more. Her fantasy was being helpless and in someone else's control. She would not ever willingly be a sex slave, but every so often she needed to be at the mercy of someone else sexually and be at risk. Even more of a turn on was if that someone was demanding and even a little cruel and did things to remind her she was helpless to his or every once in a while in her fantasies, her wishes. She was unwilling to expose that side of herself to anyone but me, and I was willing to help her actually live out a few of them. She had a great deal invested in me, and even though she could have kept any man she wanted eating out of her hand, she wanted me.

She had come up with some wild fantasies in the five years since she had become a woman. One of them she was leading me up to now. I had expressed some reservations about it, but she was adamant and had it pretty well figured out. From my end, I had every reason to keep this goddess happy. The sex was flat incredible, she was gorgeously beautiful, 38D breasts to a 28 inch waist and 36 inch hips on a 5'8" woman with blonde hair straight to her lower back. A little-known secret was that she had pierced nipples, and wore nipple rings when the clothes would hide them for the extra stimulation it gave her. She was between an A- and B+ student, nowhere near the "dumb blonde" stereotype, but she had that act down to a science if needed. And she dressed to kill, every wet dream most men ever had. Long, thin legs gave her the body for just about any clothes she ever wanted to wear, and she'd look great in them.

She was dressed kind of casual today, sandals, a tight T-shirt and cutoffs so short as to be barely street legal. She had me drive us about six miles out of town on the north side, going down the freeway that more or less paralleled the rail line. The city ended far away and it was just desert shrub and hills. The freeway in this direction ran down to the coast, and the railroad line paralleled it most of the way staying about a half-mile to the south. It was a busy section, the trains ran packed here. Two major rail lines came together on the other side of town for the hundred-mile journey to the port on the coast. The railroad line was very active. It slowed down to about one every thirty minutes at night, mostly the trains that had run down during the day running back inland at night, but during the day the freight trains ran about every ten minutes.

She had me take an off-ramp that was pretty well deserted and head down the pre-freeway 2-lane road that tracked the railroad grade. We closed in on some hills. The tracks were butted up against the far side of the hills, cut into them and between them in places. The road turned to parallel the railroad line for about half a mile, then turned to continue south away from the grade and the hills. But Sheila had me take the unpaved access road that continued to stay with the tracks into the hills.

A train passed by going down toward the port, doing about sixty. Sheila just looked at the train and gave a heavy, feminine sigh, knowing what she had coming. I looked at her in wonder, wishing that I did know, but figuring I would find out before too much longer. We counted about eighty cars. The access road turned outward just before a small dry stream bed, then plunged down into it for the thirty-foot crossing before the road ran up the other side of the bed and continued. But before we crossed it Sheila told me to stop and to pull off into the stream bed. The stream bent in such a way that you could barely see the top of the bridge from the dirt road. She pointed to the bridge as our destination. I rolled my truck in the requested direction. Sheila had me park the truck almost underneath it, so the passing trains wouldn't see it.

It was an older, heavy wooden bridge, probably about 20 years old. The complete bridge held two tracks, was about thirty feet in length and twenty feet high. The bridge had a support in the center of the span. It was timber as well, set into a concrete base about two foot wide and high, rising out of the sand of the river bed. The concrete base was a little wider than the bridge on each end by about two feet. The banks (sides) of the bridge were set with reinforced concrete and each side had several rebar loops stuck into the sides to facilitate climbing the sides for repair and inspection. There was some old construction junk on the ground under the bridge, a sawhorse, some crates and boxes, an A-frame ladder that looked weathered and fit in, but looked in curiously better condition that most of the other wood in the area, along with miscellaneous scrap metal and a few abandoned chunks of concrete varying from the handful to the huge in size..

She had me stop as we reached the sand under the bridge. "Here is where I play my favorite self-bondage game." She looked on my face, searching for rejection or laughter, but found nothing but love and willingness. She reached down into her backpack and took out a small box, and a long bundle of heavy rope.

She pointed out two large, heavy eyebolts that had been driven into the underside of the bridge at the midpoint between each shoulder and the center support. I could also see one dead center on the bridge sticking straight out toward us. None of them were shiny or new, looking as if they had been there all along. If I remembered right, the southbound grade was the one which ran toward the coast and had all the rail traffic on it during the day, and that was the side we were on. As I looked up and wondered I could hear in the distance the sound of a approaching train's diesel air horn.

"That's a southbound train at the Greenwood crossing. We have about four minutes until it gets here." She dug into her bag and dug out a big, 10 inch dildo with a piece of plastic curved into a U-shape and some sort of spring-type mechanism beneath the curved plastic, making it look more like an "E". Past the spring was a threaded socket that she twisted onto a screw that hadn't been noteworthy earlier, set into the center section concrete base about dead center between and below the eyebolts in the bridge. It looked like the idea was that she could be positioned above it and somehow run up and down onto the dildo when a train crossed over the bridge.

She saw my quizzical look about the device and started to explain it to me. "I hang from ropes right above the dildo with it just inside of me. This " and she indicated the plastic guard, "is so that even if I pop up and all the way off it, the dildo still goes inside of me every time, otherwise it might fall out and really hurt me." It sounded like the voice of experience. I didn't ask any more.

She uncoiled one of the lengths of rope. It was two long lengths of rope, maybe twenty feet long each, tied together by a third piece about five feet long. At the inside end of each of the long ropes was a quick-clip with about nine inches more of rope and then a suspension cuff attached to that end of the rope. She set up the ladder and in a minute or two had each long rope run through each eye bolt on the underside of the bridge and tied to one of the rebar loops on the bridge sides. The suspension cuffs hung down in about the right place, well within reach if she stood on the center support.

"I have quick-releases right here on the by my suspension cuffs." She said as she undid each of them and started fastening the suspension cuffs securely and tightly to her wrists. "I can get to the quick-releases if I'm standing on the center span, but they're out of reach if I step off and I am hanging. I run two more ropes with a twenty-pound weight on the other end from my ankles through those two rebar loops on the sides to keep my legs spread. It's not so much that I can't pull my feet back and stand on the center section when I want to get loose, but it's enough to keep my feet spread apart while I'm hanging and not fighting it. I squat down on the dildo, then when I am in place I step off and let my feet get pulled out to the side."

The sound of the approaching train was getting noticeable. A faint rumble in the ground became evident as she continued. "The ropes up here are measured to keep the dildo about a half-inch inside me, so when a train comes by, the weight of the engines and cars causes the bridge to sag as much as three or four inches in the middle where the eyebolts are. The way the ropes are tied, this would be enough to plunge me twice whatever the bridge sags, down onto the dildo. Depending on the weight of the car, that's anywhere from an inch or two to all eight inches down. If I should go all the way down on the dildo, that's why there's a spring in the base mounting unit. If I hit the "U" it would make the whole unit drop a few more inches, but that's never happened. When a train crosses the bridge I get dropped on and off the dildo at a furious speed, never quite the same way twice because each car has a different weight. When I get tired, I can climb back up on the center concrete then rest or unhook my wrists and let myself go, but the ride is usually so intense that it wipes me out for a minute or so afterwards and I just hang there."

"Then again, that's if the train is running fast. Trains average 60 or 70 cars, and take about a minute to a minute and a half to pass if they're running fast. Most do, but every once in a while, a train goes by slow. Then I get a long, slow ride, on and off at an agonizing pace. It doesn't happen too often, but it's a nice change. Then, there was the time the train engine stopped, right on the bridge. It was already dark, and the crew came off for a few minutes. There I was, eighteen and a half years old, stark naked, spread and strapped to the bridge, terrified to move because the movement might give me away. I'd been there a while and was pretty exhausted, so I was way too tired to run very far or very fast even if I could. If any of them had looked over the bridge and straight down, god knows what would have happened to me. One of them flicked a cigarette off the bridge and I watched it land on the ground right in front of me. It's a good thing the engine was so loud, because it vibrated the bridge the whole time, and with me on that dildo. I must have come five times while being too frightened to make a single solitary sound. Eventually they got back on the train and finally pulled out, and they never heard me or saw me."

"What if you want to stop in the middle of a train passing by?" I asked. "Yeah, right. In the middle of a fierce, rough self-bondage fuck on that dildo, I'm going to have the presence of mind needed to climb back up?" She shook her head a plain no. "I tried once or twice, but things happen too fast, and I never could manage it without falling off the dildo, and then the idiot thing just beats the hell out of my crotch." She smiled wanly. "A little risky to try to climb off the dildo as it's working on me. Tried that, got all bruised for my trouble. Not this little chickadee, in the middle of that ride."

"Ever get so wiped out that you couldn't climb back up and just got stuck there for two or three trains?" I asked, a twinkle in my eye.

She smiled painfully. "It's happened once or twice, but I survived. But that's part of the risk, part of the thrill. Things that are predictable and risk-free are boring."

She stopped as the sound of the approaching diesels became too loud. I heard the metallic popping sound of the rails bending with the load, the ground starting to shake harder. I fought back the urge to run like hell. I had to put my hands over my ears. Then a gigantic mass shot over the bridge, twenty feet over my head - the first engine of the oncoming train. I watched the bridge as the cars passed by, the bridge did indeed flex down a few inches as each car passed over it. She wasn't crazy after all, just very observant and sexually ingenious to figure out a way to harness it.

The train went by and was gone, clicking rails and rumbling receding into the distance. "How often do you do this?" I asked.

She shrugged as she ran the ropes for her ankles through the rebar loops and set that up part up. The weights sat on a ledge off to the side, when she had the ropes in place the weights would settle straight below the rebar, until then they were loose. "Not too often. The last time was about three months ago, that afternoon of the night you taught me about CPUs. I did it a lot when I was seventeen or eighteen, I'd hang from that rope for an hour at a time or more, stark naked, all by myself out here. I don't get out here too often these days with the class load I've got." She smiled at me meaningfully. "Besides, I don't need this quite like I did back then."

She took yet another length of rope out of the bag. The rope had a ring on one end and ran through a ratchet about halfway through it. Setting up the ladder she attached the ratchet to the eyebolt directly above where she would be standing, leaving the ring about four feet off the ground, and the free end she threw over the wrist rope where it could be grasped by one of her hands when she was in place. She climbed down the ladder and dropped the ladder underneath the bridge, safely out of sight of any passing trains. Out of her bag came a foot-long spring with about five feet or so of rope attached to one end. The spring was attached to a convenient, and probably pre-placed loop of rebar in a scrap block of concrete that sat about four feet from the bridge pylon, The free end of the spring-rope went through the metal loop of the hanging rope and she placed the free end of it where she could reach it when she was standing in place. The free end of the rope had a small loop in the rope tied about two feet past where it ran through the metal ring, I had no clue where she was going with this, so I sat back and watched.

She pulled about a three foot length of medium jack chain out of her backpack and passed it through the small loop in the rope that lead down to the spring. I suddenly caught on when I saw small clips at each end of the jack chain - they would fasten to her nipple rings. The way the ropes were, if all the slack was pulled out, the bottom one would run horizontally from the ring to the jack chain and pull her nipple rings straight out. Stretched like that, her nipples and her breasts would get a workout just like the rest of her when a train passed. She looked all her handiwork over then nodded with approval. She looked at me and smiled that megawatt smile.

"Are you ready?" I nodded yes.

She shed her clothes in seconds. Seeing her sitting stark naked in the cool shade of the sand under the bridge, wearing nothing but a smile was intoxicating, I was taking deep breaths as she checked the large, thick leather suspension wrist cuffs and anklets. She climbed up on the crates then positioned herself over the dildo and squatted down until she sank about two inches on to it, gasping at the penetration. Then she stood up until her crotch was about three inches above it. "I'll sink back down on it once I'm in position." She told me.

She asked me to attach her ankle ropes while she hooked the clips to her wrist cuffs, "I have never done this with anyone else around. Normally I would just let the weights pull my ankles apart, but once I'm in place I want you to tie them off for me. I have always wanted to be absolutely helpless to the sensation. Always before if I wanted to I could climb up on the pier and let myself loose; this time I will have to ride it out until you choose to let me go." She looked at me and shivered sensually.

She finished attaching the wrist ropes and after heavily lubing the dildo with something greasy, stepped off the center divider. As expected she settled about an inch on to the dildo. As I clipped the ropes to her ankle cuffs, we heard the horn of the next oncoming train. "Skip the nipple stuff until after the train, just get me in position." The rope and chain hanging down in front of her would be used to give her some tit stimulation as well as everything else. I questioned her whether the chains could be stretched so tight as to tear her nipples, but she pointed out that this is why there were springs at the bottom, and besides, the gauge of the wire that make up the rings would only take about 50 pounds before they bent and fell out, she couldn't be hung by them, and the rings by design, would hold just fine through quite a lot, but it would pull out before any actual damage. She assured me she would be fine, then a little mysteriously told me that it had happened before. It would feel like her tits were being ripped out for a few seconds, she confirmed, but the wire would give way first. "Hey," she pointed out, nodding to her fully erect nipples, "they're still there."

I took the ankle ropes and tied them so her feet were about two meters apart, and until they were untied she had no way to stand up so she could get to her wrists and get loose. I could see that the guides on the dildo would insure that it would always hit in her right spot. Her toes were now about 18 inches off the ground, which left her a bit above my eye level, but still within reach.

I went back and double-checked her ankle ropes. Her ankles were stretched about as wide as they could go and the knots were perfectly secure on the shoulders of the bridge. She said nothing, and after that I stepped back to survey her overall. She was nude, spread wide, and about to be impaled on the large plastic cock underneath her. She could do nothing in her current state to prevent it. We heard the rumble in the distance of the train approaching.

"Thank you, Jack!" She shouted, barely hearable. She started to vibrate just a little, then harder as the train closed in. It got louder and louder, the ground shook harder and harder, and then it happened.

The lead engine passed overhead with a deafening roar. Just as expected, the bridge sagged with the weight of the engine, impaling her deep onto the plastic prick, then just as abruptly pulled her back up off it when the engine left the bridge, and dropped her onto it again as the next engine passed overhead. She got a shocked look on her face at the first engine, which turned into a grimace as more cars passed overhead and the up and down motion repeated. Her breasts had settled into a healthy counter-rhythm to the up and down motion of her body. Her face turned to a wide "O" of surprise as the mechanical fucking continued, then after a dozen or so cars she screamed and it looked like she began cumming. But the train was not done, so in spite of her orgasm, she was repeatedly driven down onto and pulled off the dildo, turning a wild and heady orgasm into a mindbendingly overloading and body-shaking experience.

The last car roared overhead and fled into the distance. She stopped her bouncing motion, and I could see sweat dripping down her forehead, between her breasts, and down her legs. She was breathing heavily and shaking like a leaf. After two or three minutes, she could finally speak.

"So...intense....non-stop.....couldn't take it...couldn't stop it....what a trip!" She breathed hard for a few seconds. "Thank you so much, Jack, for giving this to me."

I smiled. "No problem." She had no idea how hot she looked as the weight of the train on the bridge pistoned the dildo in and out of her cunt, hair and breasts being tossed wildly. I was hard as iron and I was going to jack off with the next train.

"Put on the nipple clamps on now." She requested. I put a crate down in front of her and grabbed the horizontal chains, fastening them to her nipple rings. Once they were on, she had me grab the free end of the hanging rope and ratchet up the rope until her nipples were slightly stretched, about an inch, far enough to satisfy her. The chains still had plenty of play. "The last time I came that hard was the first time you tied me up. And I can't wait for the next train." She smiled, noticing my erection in my jeans. "You like the way I look when I'm riding the rails..."

I smiled, stepped down and waited. She just relaxed. The dildo was riding perfectly, the guides holding it on target. There was nothing to do but wait. Sheila was already starting to breathe hard in anticipation. Her nipples were clearly stretched out by the chains, about two inches or so beyond natural. The roar got louder by the second, until it was deafening.

The first engine shot over the bridge, throwing Sheila down on the dildo and back up again. She screamed at the first lunge, then with a wild look in her eyes settled down to the bouncing rhythm. Her body was thrown up and down on to the plastic cock. After the first ten or fifteen cars she was screaming in the throes of an orgasm, alternately screaming and groaning, but neither the train, the bridge nor the dildo showed any mercy. She kept falling onto the plastic cock and being jerked back off it just as quickly, her tits being wrenched wildly in a counter-rhythm to her ride on the dildo, her nipples more or less static even though she was going up and down at a high rate of speed.

I watched the springs at the bottom of the tit chain, forgetting my own plans. They chains stretched just a little, but the springs never really seemed to be needed.

The last car of the train shot overhead, and she stopped her rhythm. Her body was drenched with sweat, her hair thrown everywhere behind her. She was breathing very heavily, almost hyperventilating, and visibly shaking. She took five minutes to stop breathing. "Almost...... couldn't..... passed out..... Thank you..... I love you so much....."

She stopped long enough to catch her breath fully. "Phew! That was ultimate, the breast chains give me more stimulation that I can take. The dildo is enough to drive me wild, but the feeling in my breasts doubles the sensation."

I smiled. She wanted it, she got it. I took my cock out, which was like rock, and started playing with it.

She saw me, and what I was doing. "I've had enough now." She told me. "Please let me down. That plastic cock is nice, but the one thing it does is make me want a real one." She smiled lecherously at me and continued. "Right here, right now."

I stood up on the crate, my face an inch from hers. "Kiss me." I demanded.

She looked at me strangely. "As soon as you get me down." She implored. "But hurry, we only have a few minutes before the next train."

I grabbed her neck and pulled her to me; strung up by her hands and feet there was absolutely nothing she could do to resist. I took my kiss from her. She opened her mouth and allowed it, but she was absolutely unenthusiastic about it and did not kiss me back with any passion.

After a second, I pulled back. I grabbed the rope on her nipple chain and tightened it two clicks further. This stretched her tight enough to pull her trunk about three inches forward by her nipples. She was definitely pulled forward, with her breasts stretched into tight cones.

"Jack, please don't, that'll hurt me." She begged, sounding a little concerned. "The nipple chains are too tight." She gasped as we heard the horn of the next train. "Let me go now! We've only got a minute or two."

"Remember, the nipple rings will give out before it can actually tear you?" I reminded her then I said in a much rougher tone: "Next time I tell you to do anything -- anything -- in a situation like this, like kiss me, you better do it then and try your hardest and do your best. I'm going to let you spend the next five minutes thinking about the wisdom of ignoring me now."

I stepped down and stood back. She realized her predicament. She was completely unable to get loose, and I was going to leave her hanging and her breasts stretched overly tight while the oncoming train did its worst to her. I could see a little extra wiggle in her hips, she did indeed get turned on by being helpless and out of control. She struggled a bit, but there was no slack. She couldn't free herself, and she couldn't dislodge the dildo or nipple chain from her body. She couldn't even struggle too hard, because that caused her nipple chains to stretch her nipples even further. We had a safe word that she could use. I was waiting for her to use it and I would let her down in a second, but she either didn't think about it or didn't want to use it. We both knew she couldn't get loose and we both knew I was more interested in watching her plight. The look on her face grew wilder and her struggles grew more pronounced as the train drew near and the ground began to shake. We both knew that since she hadn't used her safeword the twenty seconds left were too little to stop things and she was going to go for a ride just like she was. She was wiggling pretty frantically by the time the lead engine rolled overhead.

She struggled against the thrusts for a few seconds, but then gave in to the feelings. The plastic cock plunged in and out of her pussy without pause and without remorse. The tit chain thrashed her breasts wildly around on her, the springs were getting a workout now, her tits were clearly getting stretched by the up-and-down motion, and it had to be at least a little bit painful. Or at least that was the plan.

She started screaming a little earlier in her orgasm, and rode it until the train had passed. When she caught her breath, I stood up on the crate and asked her how she was doing. I unclipped the tit chains so I could stand in front of her. She was so exhausted from the orgasm she could only speak in gasps.

"Soooo... goood.... tits..... stretch...... not too..... tight... after... all.. I.... can't.... take..... any..... more..... please..... let..... go..... fuck.... me..... please.... I.... I'll.... kiss.... you.... now...."

I put my lips to hers, and she kissed me with a vengeance, tongue deep into my mouth, trying to thrust her body against mine. I savored the kiss and the victory until we heard the whistle of the next train. Then she stopped and asked me to let her go.

I grinned at her and she knew what that meant. Then I shook my head no. "You wanted to ride this bridge, and I'm going to let you." I stepped down and put the tit chain back to the original tightness. "I'm going back to town. I'll be back in four or five hours. Enjoy your rides."

There was about fifteen seconds of dead stunned silence. Then she found her voice. "No, Jack, no!" she pleaded. I gave her a few seconds to use her safe word, but she did not. So I turned away from her, knowing that she could do nothing to stop me or save herself. She heard the rumble of the next train approaching as she watched me gather her pack and all her clothes and walked behind her, under the bridge and toward my truck. She had no way to take the weight off her wrists to free herself. Even if she did manage to get loose, which I doubted, she had a ten mile nude walk back to town across hot, flat, wide open desert. I did pause to smack her exposed bottom as I passed, but she still said nothing. As I reached the truck the first engine went over the bridge. I knew what Sheila was doing right now, working up to an earthquake of an orgasm, stark naked, helplessly tied to the bridge, and utterly unable to free herself. If a stranger happened by, she was helpless to whatever he wanted to do to her, and after a train or two, she'd be too exhausted to resist. The train faded off into the distance as I started the truck's engine and headed for the freeway and back to town.

First stop was a minimart for gas and a soda, incidentally, right next to the Greenwood crossing that the trains blew their horns at so we knew they were coming. I sat at a table in the air conditioning and drank my soda, watching for a while as the trains rumbled through town, blowing their horn at the crossing and headed for Sheila. I could barely make out in the distance the spot in the tracks where the bridge was, watched the trains as they rolled over it. I could imagine Sheila, caught in a trap of her own fantasy, helpless to prevent herself from being repeatedly fucked by what she herself had devised. A train rolled over the spot where the bridge was. From five miles away I raised a toast to her and hoped she was enjoying her current ride.

Time passed as I watched the trains run by. One was obviously a cross-country, it was fully loaded, moving fast and was well over a hundred and fifty cars. It took over four minutes to pass. I smiled as it rolled by on the way to Sheila, and hoped she was ready for the bonus ride.

About three hours later, it was starting to get dark. I got me a bottled water and one for Sheila, then headed back to our bridge. The sun was touching the horizon when I left the paved road, ten minutes later I was parked and coming around to where I left her.

As another train roared by, I wondered what I would find. If she had gotten loose, she had absolutely not a stitch of clothing available to her. She might be sitting on the ground waiting for me to come back. She might have taken off and hidden somewhere for cover, until darkness would let her make a run back for town. Someone might have discovered her and taken her away forcibly. Most likely though, she was right where I had left her to her own fantasy, albeit a little longer than she expected. I figured more than 40 trains had passed since I left her.

She was still in the chains, hanging fully limp, head collapsed forward, absolutely exhausted. Sweat caked with a light coat of dirt on her body, showing little traces between her breasts and down her belly where it had run. She heard me coming and looked up. "So.... so..... good..... I.... want... you... so.... bad.... please... fuck.... me...." She whispered, loud enough for me to hear. I stood up on the crate and held the water to her mouth. She swallowed two or three gulps then stopped. We heard the diesel horn of the next train approaching. "Please... let me down... now." She begged, the exhaustion plain in her voice. "I've had... enough of that... artificial cock... I just... want... a real one."

I unclipped the chain from her nipple rings, then pulled the dildo out and knocked the stand over. Then I reached over and undid the clips on her ankle cuffs. Her legs dropped to a straight hanging position and she didn't move them. She was that worn out. I lowered her down to the ground as the bridge started to rumble. Her feet touched, and she started to fold up, limp as a boiled noodle. Her knees hit the ground not long before the first engine shot past.

I undid her arms and she collapsed on the sand on her back, completely limp. I sat beside her as the train went by overhead, the ground shaking, but no longer the mechanism of a relentless assault on her sexuality. She just lay still and rested while time passed. As the train roared by and faded off into the distance, then she stirred. She opened her eyes, slowly sat up, and regarded me.

She looked up at me, a little painfully, a lot lustfully, and began rubbing my cock through my shorts. "For the last four hours that sound has meant that I was about to get fucked out of my mind with absolutely no control over the situation. Damn, that was good. Someday let's do it again, but now I want a real cock! Fuck me now!"

She pulled me on top of her and began fumbling with my shorts. I knew my cock was harder than steel under the cloth; she was going to get what she wanted once again.


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