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.