"Here, from behind." She reached back and guided Andreas toward her slit, gasped as he found it. A jolt from the train lurched him inside her to the hilt. Andreas moaned. He laid his chest over her and clutched her hips, pulling himself in for one, two, three strokes. Another jolt and he was thrown aside. Molly helped him find his way back to her.

As Andreas thrust into her, she squeezed one hand between her thighs and teased her clit. The freighter didn't slow down in Vancouver, Molly noticed. The lights of the vast Canadian city flashed through the grainer door in a honey-colored strobe. Andreas moaned again, voice keeping time with his cock as it barrelled into her. Molly watched their coupled shadow on the wall as the passing lights blinked it on and off.

Molly's orgasm mounted now, blotting out the cold steel under her knees, the desperate rattling of the freighter as it picked up speed. She knotted both her hands into the fabric of Andreas' worn sleeping bag, letting his cock alone do the job. Suddenly spasms shot through her body, buckling her elbows and wrists. Molly screamed into the darkness, her wail devoured by a long blast of the locomotive's throaty horn. Andreas came again, just after. He fell against her back, mumbling softly. When the horn died away she realized he was talking to himself in German.