Chapter 4

I feel like this great, endless mass of darkness here in this train is going to swallow and eat me up eventually. From corner to corner, it is all dark. The lights are really there and even burning bright and radiantly, but then they are far away and spaced widely, flickering with a faint, dim- like white yellowish beam that seems to be only lighting up the passages themselves. Jace Dicking, my lovely and calm husband, is sitting right here before my very watchful face and eyes, sagging his head so low to the extent and reality that I do not even know if he is really dozing or maybe he is just merely making this all up. I do not care regardless.

I sigh and heave out. I can feel the heat burning and searing slowly but assuredly into my very flesh. It is like this immense heat is roasting and cooking me up. It is strange though. Everyone around seems to be dressed in sweaters and jackets and warm but snug coats, while I myself, I feel so abnormally and strangely hot in this coat of mine that I have no other option other than to take and slip it away from me. This is what I exactly do.

Even with all this done and accomplished, I still do feel terribly hot and cruelly sweltering up. It is strange and bizzare--but I can't get myself to explain and resolve up this entire mystery. I am wondering quietly: What could be the exact cause for all this? I do not have any fever, but I feel as hot and burning as a red-hot oven itself. Maybe I should try taking off just my shirt this time. Slowly and unhurriedly, I strip and take it off. Maybe this will be any better. I wait and see. How could I be so daring and careless to fool myself in the first place? Not much has changed either, even with my brasserie left and clinging on to my breasts and back. I wheeze and sigh out, and consider slipping my jeans off to stay and remain in nothing other than my black, sexy, and very much arousing panties. They are not even panties. But a pair of clean, fresh, and regularly washed G-string. I do just like I have planned and thought to act out.

Still, I feel terribly and immensely hot. What could be the precise cause? Could it be that I alone of all the numerous people here in this public train am this so strange and exceptionally out of the ordinary? Could it be thus really? Who knows? Someone here, somewhere, could be feeling and undergoing the very same. Really!

I scowl and make a displeased face to myself. This must come to a precise ending. It truly and definitely must. Steadily and carefully, I use my hand to fetch for my towel that is packed somewhere in my bag, and once I stumble and come across it, I pick it gently and warily so to also fetch a bottle of cold water, the water of which I pour and spill out straightly onto the towel till soak and make it wet. With this explained and cleared up, I go on to clean and scrub my almost naked body--sluggishly, lazily, and with not much ease and effort additionally.

My breasts must be burning in this bra that is holding and bracing them up in their rightful shape and position. I pull down my bra itself suddenly so that my boobies are tugged and cast upwards to a clear and unmistakable view. Then with this achieved, I also begin to rinse and soak my beloved breasts, doing it all slowly and steadily and carefully. Yeah. At least this has made me feel much more better and relaxed. For sure...

The cold towel feels nice and wonderful on my nipples. As I brush and stroke them with it, I feel my entire self and body harden and tense up in this great kind of sexual tension that is all too sweet and electrifying at the very same time. My mouth sags and drops open all of a sudden and unexpectedly. I almost laugh and giggle out loud as I brush and mop about my breasts with this icy-feeling, cold-striking form and brand of towel. I must not laugh out loud ... I must not do this at all.

As time slips and sneaks by, I feel that the towel is drying up and fast losing its iciness and coldness that I am enjoying and delighting to be struck and afflicted with this very instant. I check the remaining water inside the bottle and find out that it still is not all that satisfyingly cold and freezing. It has lost its coldness and iciness too. Meaning that I cannot get myself to use it as freely and effortlessly as I have done with it before. But then what can I use this time around? What exactly and precisely?

I stumble across a bottle of cold wine that is as chilly and freezing as snow and ice itself. I think this will work and be suitable for now. Perhaps; perhaps not so! I open the bottle quietly and soundlessly and then spill and pour the wine in driblets and sluggish streams all over my entire body. Wonderful! This is so great and amazing. I am loving it like nothing else here.

As the cold, chilly wine trickles and seeps down my body, I feel my entire and whole self tickle and flush up. I like the chilled and wintry sensation that all this performance and undertaking brings and effects in me. Nothing should be this sweeter ... nothing should be so wonderfully amazing and brilliant too!

At least for now ... the temperature of my breasts and nipples start to drop and recede down. I feel calm and much more at ease and relaxation. This is better and preferable than the first state and scenario.

I lie and loll myself down on my unspeaking seat itself. I have to cool and hush down my burning back too. But for this one, I cannot do it all by myself. Someone else has to take care of it all for me. And who better other than my sweet happy innocent Jace Dicking himself?

I look at him. He is soundly and perfectly sleeping and I don't want to wake him up at all. I will let him rest and lay down, and see whatever it is that I can get myself to do for my entire and sole self significantly.

My vagina. That is where I feel the heat and its fierceness this time around. I simply move my bottle of wine towards it, then pop it open quietly another time, and spill and scatter about some drizzling drops on my private part itself. Of course! It is all shaved and cleaned up. I like and love it this way. It makes things much more easier and sexier even.

As the wine streams and runs through my sex, I tremble and shudder heavily from its terrible cold, and yet being so pleased and happy deep down my heart and senses. This is what I want. This is what I crave--and here I have it!

No! It is inside my very own vagina that I am feeling and being whipped by this excruciating and yet brilliantly satisfying cold. I close my eyes for an instant while, imagining and even picturing up what it will be like to have the wine spilled and gushed into my vagina itself. Wouldn't it be so great and fantastic? Well, I think so definitely.