Sarah quickly gripped my warm, solid shaft with her cold hand and fingers. Her icy touch made me jump. We moved closer together as she slowly caressed my cock, which was already throbbing and leaking pre-cum. I could smell Sarah’s lilac perfume as it hung in the thick air surrounding us, but I could not see Sarah. I could not even see my cock and her hand. Sarah’s slow stroking, and particular attention to the sensitive, now well lubed crown of my manhood, sent waves of pleasure through my body. Not having the ability to see what Sarah was doing, I could only concentrate on the touch of her hand and the pleasure she was imparting. It was a new sensation; no visual stimulation, just pleasure, both physical and mental. Blood rushed to my face, my breath quickened, and my body went limp. I leaned back and surrendered to Sarah’s touch. Sarah, without sight, could only feel. And what she felt seemed bigger to her; longer, thicker, heavier. Her senses played with her mind, and her roguish. We found seats which were in relative private. There was more room on the train than on the coach, and we got a section where two rows faced each other. Another two and a half hours until we reached Paris, I was feeling cramped and irritable. I needed to move, I was restless. The journey was taking forever. Miguel sensing my irritability went to the restaurant car to buy us dinner. Standing, holding the hand rail, I leaned against the window, watching the lights in the tunnel fade from one to another then to dark, it was hypnotically soothing. When I regained my surroundings, Miguel was standing close behind me, watching me undulating in the sensual rhythm of the train's motion. "My Belle, you are so lovely." He pressed his hips to mine as together we rocked in silence. I turned to look at him, but the train slowed suddenly and I was thrust akimbo into his arms. He lowered me to the seat under the window and leaned over me. "Belle, even when you moody you are beautiful." He held my.
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