by Alex M. Quinlan
So there I was, going home for the first time, a week before Christmas. Oh, I'd been to camp before; I'd slept over at other people's houses, I'd stayed out late here and there. I'd been away from mommy's apron strings before -- thank the gods! But this was the first time I'd been gone -- moved out, gone to college, Living Elsewhere (tm) finally! I was eighteen, two years out of high school; my mom hadn't let me go away to school when I graduated because she felt she couldn't trust me. Amazing how she thought I wasn't doing stuff while still living at home and going to college locally, hmmm?
This first semester away at college had been both fun and boring. It was good to get away and not be accounting for every single minute of my time to someone. It was boring as hell to be in an all-girls two-year liberal arts college stuck in the middle of a Midwestern state. (Which is probably why my mom let me go away.) I was ready to be back in civilization; ready to spend some time in a place where I could decide I wanted to be social or hungry at 3 am and have a chance of finding someone to talk to, somewhere to eat.
It was gonna be hell to avoid laughing at my mom when she tried to regulate me again.
***
Have you ever been on a train? One of the long haul ones, not a commuter train, on and off in an hour or two. No, the big ones, the ones that Amtrak wants you to take no matter where you're going, the ones with two levels and a skylight lookout for those clear nights when all you want to do is get away from the noise of the kids in the next sleeper cabin down...
They have bathrooms on those trains. They have to -- you're going a few hundred miles, and even at 70 miles an hour they're not going to stop every time someone has to go pee. And they're not doing 70 except on the really new tracks.
Space is at a premium on a train; each car has to be a regulation size, and each one has to fit so many people in the rest of the space for it to be profitable to spend fuel dragging it about.
Those bathrooms are small. Maybe smaller than airplane bathrooms, which doesn't really make sense to me, but there it is. You'd better not have big thighs, cause you can't spread your legs enough to get your hand down there to wipe between them.
The coach car was dark -- no sleeper car for me, I was lucky I wasn't on a bus -- but I couldn't sleep. This was the first time I'd been on a train, and the motion excited me, kept me awake, even as my mind raced through all the things I'd do, who I'd call first, when I got home. We were an hour out of Kansas City, on our way to Chicago, change for points east.
He was sitting up the aisle from me and all I could see was a one-quarter profile: fair skin, dark hair pulled back in a pony tail, dark beard clipped close to the skin. One arm, in a black sweater-sleeve. One leg, faded jeans. Brown boots, no fancy needlework or tooling. I could tell he was awake cause he kept sitting up, looking around, and then slowly slumping by degrees till he curled back against the seat, looking around, only to start the sequence again. It was just enough motion in my peripheral vision to keep me aware of it as I tried to read.
Finally he got up and headed toward me, towards the back of the car -- the end with the bathroom. I glanced up at him and our eyes met, my generic brown doing I don't know what in the darkness, his cat-green, flashing in the subdued lighting as he looked down at me. He smiled with half his mouth, aware without a blush that I'd been watching him, and gave a small, ambiguous tilt of his head towards the back of the car.
I'm sure my eyes widened, startled. While I'd had some lovers, I was enough overweight that I never had random people trying to pick me up; at best it was a slow discovery of 'oh, she's ok even if she is fat' that led them to my bed. This pattern had continued in the Midwest, so I had no real reason to think that farm boys were any different. I decided that I'd let my weakness for green eyes delude me, and with a sigh went back to reading.
A few pages later, a slight sound over the rhythmic noise gave me enough warning that I didn't jump out of my skin when I felt the hand on my shoulder. I looked up and there he was, green eyes flashing color through the drifting smoke of his unbound hair. He held my gaze for a moment, and then very obviously motioned with his head toward the back of the car, and stood, waiting, the warmth of his hand soaking into my flesh through my t-shirt. When I finally nodded, he walked back. I put my book down into my bag and followed. There was more light back there, in the little hallway between the two bathrooms. There was also a bit of distance from the other passengers, two large racks full of sound-deadening luggage behind the last seats before the wall of the stall. He was leaning against the wall, watching me as I walked up. He patted the wall next to him, and I mimicked his pose, back to the wall, trying for the nonchalance he projected.
"You're awake, too." It was a statement, not a question, his voice barely audible over the constant rumble of the train.
I just nodded, and shrugged, feeling tongue-tied. Then I took a deep breath, and found my bootstraps. "College exams have me running nocturnal."
He just nodded. "There's something we can do about that." He turned and looked directly at me when he said it, capturing my gaze again with the bright dark green of his eyes. After a long moment when I thought my heart would be audible over the rails, he dropped his gaze down the length of my body, lingering at my breasts pushing against the T-shirt, and at my hips. I'd never had a man look at me that way, look and *like* what he saw, look and then rub a hand against his thigh, drawing attention to the hardened twitching cock beneath his jeans.
If there's one thing I'm a sucker for, then and now, it's the sight of a man who wants me.
It wasn't until I realized that I was staring at his crotch that I realized I'd dropped my own gaze too, had done my own assessment of his body. He didn't seem like muscle-builder, but he moved with a smooth grace, his shirt hugging close to his skin. I nodded, realizing my breath had caught when I had to consciously take a breath to say, "Where?"
He tapped his head against the wall to the bathroom. I'm sure I looked astonished. He shrugged. "There are two. And we'll be quiet. I looked -- no one else in the car is awake."
I couldn't say no. A man -- clearly a man, not a boy -- who wanted me, semi-public sex, sex in a train; how could I refuse?
I slipped into the stall first, and sat down in the obvious place. He slid in, closed and locked the door. It was an amazingly small room. I have no idea how we both fit into it. There was no way I could do anything *but* have my face in his crotch, and he promptly unzipped and pulled his cock out.
It was larger than anything I'd seen before. While I didn't have a statistically large sample set, I'd seen more than a few, and this was Large. I felt my nipples wake up, my insides pulse, as I took up the challenge with tongue and lips.
I worked my best on it, never able to take more than half his length into my mouth before gagging. He tasted *good* -- musk and heat and sweat and just a hint of whatever soap he'd used last. His hands rested on my shoulders as I bobbed and licked, spit slipping from my lips and tracing down my chin.
I have no clue how long I did this; cocksucking is so primal for me that I completely lose track of anything but the bliss of cock in my mouth. But his touch shifted on my shoulder, and I pulled my face back and looked up. "I can't come standing up," he said, his voice a bit ragged. I looked around, and laughed softly. "How do you propose we shift?"
I can't describe what we did; I think it included the fourth dimension. But we got ourselves situated such that he was sitting down with his pants down and I was standing in front of him, similarly unclad. I tried straddling him, but couldn't get my hips far enough forward. He had to keep sh!-ing me cause I kept breaking into giggles. We finally turned me around and I sat back on him, and had to put my feet up on some piping that was running around the edges.
Ye gods, he felt good inside me! It was all I could do to keep my moans quiet as we worked together. I leaned back against him, my feet braced to take most of my weight and to provide the leverage. He held my hips and rocked me against him, filling me over and over, more than I'd ever been filled before, stretching me into a delicious tightness that never quite made it to 'too much'. The random jostling provided by the train kept throwing the rhythm off just enough to be exquisite in its frustration, for him, too, judging by his muttered groans.
Without any warning from my body I was suddenly coming, my body jerking in time to the train. My insides were pulsing and I could feel every ripple, the bas relief of him sliding through me, peaking me over and over. I must have gotten louder, cause his hand was suddenly over my mouth, holding me back harder against him. I stiffened, startled, and then he groaned and started twitching. I could feel his cock pulsing inside me, spraying my insides with his lubricious heat, and I came again just from the feeling, the power of his release.
We both recovered, and he ducked out to the other toilet to clean up. When I was done I peeked out, but the other stall was empty. Moving back to my seat, I could see he was gone, no more bag in the footwell of his seat. I settled back into mine and dozed off before I got more than two pages further in my book.
Later on, I got woken by the train stopping. Looking outside, I saw snow -- a beautifully fluffy snowfall had started during our fuck, unnoticed by me, at least. I went up to the club car looking for awake people, trying to find information, and maybe some food. Apparently the local tracks were completely snowed over; the train was stopped between stations, waiting for whatever clears the tracks. Wherever 'local' was -- I never learned.
I saw him there, in the club car, and he nodded to me over his sandwich, a cup of coffee steaming at his hand. Large, strong hands. But before I could get through the line with my own food I saw him duck out the door and go over the chain, off into the snow. I've never been sure where he was going, but he obviously knew where he was.
I spent the rest of that trip arguing the higher meanings of "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" with a kid even younger than me, eventually taking him off between two cars to give him his first blowjob. But that's a different story.
