3 comments/ 38403 views/ 8 favorites Amusing Train Ride By: Matadore I think that the scent of her hair caused me to first notice her. It had a clean, crisp, tang like the bright sunlight glittering after an early spring ice storm. She was young, very young, not yet twenty, maybe not even eighteen. I caught myself gazing at her where she sat beside me facing the empty seats across the aisle, her knees demurely together. Each time that I found that my eyes wandered back to her, I made an effort to look away. But I found my gaze fixed on her over my newspaper, past her to the countryside whipping by, the winter grays about to give way to the lush foliage foretold by the green haze that is each season's buds of promise to become billions of leaves in a verdant quilt spread over the now naked backbone of the earth. My thoughts wandered to my daughter who would be just a bit older than this slip of femininity nestled so snuggly against my hip and arm. If she had survived that is, for I long ago had accepted that of which everyone had tried to convince me. My little girl was gone. She simply vanished. One moment she was last seen turning onto the path that was a shortcut through the park and the next she was gone. Even her foot prints stopped in the middle of a sandy place near the creek. Some said that she had been carried off. Others opted that she had wandered off into the woodlands and had became lost. And still others had even darker theories. I shivered involuntarily and forced these memories back into the recesses of my mind where they would stay until fatigue or boredom allowed them to once again rise and lurk as shadows just below a murky surface. She must have felt my slight quake, because she was saying something to me. I turned toward her and nearly was lost into eyes of the bluest of blue. She repeated her request and I managed to catch "blanket?" as I drifted back to reality. "I beg your pardon, miss?" I managed to stammer out as my voice began to roll out of my throat before my thoughts became fully engaged. "You were shivering just now, sir. With night coming on, perhaps the porter might bring us blankets. This early in the spring the setting of the sun can bring a chill over the land and the trains are not always warm enough for comfort." "Yes. Why yes, of course." Where upon I turned to summon the porter. He was a strapping heavy black man, a bit past his prime with a thick gray mustache and sideburns the color and texture of steel wool. Everyone called him George because he hailed from Georgia although his given name was Floyd. In his youth he had been a prizefighter but now he was inclined to be stout. A man who took his job seriously and performed flawlessly as if he intuitively could anticipate each passenger's needs before the traveler himself. In fact, as I turned to request the blankets, I saw George heading toward us with blankets over one arm and pillows under the other. "I would imagine that Mr. Richard and..." he began, but the young lady sitting next to me finished the sentence for him by saying, "and Mr. Richard's niece, George. You may call me Miss Slayer. May I add that it is a pleasure to finally meet you as my thoughtful uncle has mentioned you on numerous occasions, always to your credit of course." George was professional and astute if not formally educated and so he contained his surprise except for the barely noticeable widening of his eyes. "Yes Ma'am, Miss Slayer, I am honored and have always found Mr. Richard to be most kindest of gentlemen." He smoothly replied as he placed the blankets and the pillows on the seat opposite us. "Mr. Richard, shall you be taking your dinner in the dinning car before you retire to your compartment this evening? For if that is your intention, I should remind you that the car will close at 9 o'clock." I dismissed him with "Very good, George, thank you." When he had gone, I spread my blanket over my legs and lap. As I did this mundane task, my mind was trying to put some meaning to what had just happened...but I realized that I hadn't a clue as to what had taken place...only that the event carried some odd significance. Finally I glanced toward my young fellow traveler and cleared my throat to speak. But no sound could I make. I again swallowed to prepare to speak when I felt a delicate hand in my lap, palm open on my leg high on my inner thigh. I must have failed miserably trying to conceal my shock. She tittered and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "You really don't know me do you?" I was about to say something like, "My dear child..." but all rational phrases seemed to evaporate in my brain and exit through my ears as steam from a whistle when I felt her hand locate my penis which was growing rapidly to its larger turgid state. She slid her hand down to the end and gripped the head, her fingers not quite meeting. "Oh My God!" I heard her hiss between her teeth. "You are so...big!" I could feel her fingernails dig into my hardening flesh through my pants...almost painful, but not quite. I experienced a thrill along my dick, through my asshole, and up my spine. I sucked in a breath and she giggled. A delightful sound. "Ms Slayer," I stammered. "I assure you that I have never met you before and although you seem a delightful young, ah, woman, your current behavior is quite unexpected. While I might anticipate such actions from a female person of a more rebellious class, you are obviously not accustomed to the hardships and deprivation that one associates with the less genteel..." It was at that point that she leaned a little toward me and prevented my speaking another word by sealing my lips with a kiss. Not only a kiss, but struggle as I might, I was helpless to pull back or turn away. Then I felt her tongue begin to slip through my lips and after lingering against my teeth, flow over and into my mouth, searching for my tongue. I met her and gently pushed back. I recall how delicious and soft her lips were. I became aware that she was stroking and kneading my cock through the wool of my suit. By now I was at a rampant state, almost painful as the stiffness struggled to rise but was confined and bound by my garments to point toward my feet. In an effort to prevent her from acerbating my discomfort, I reached down my body to grasp and remove her hand from the task that it was so effectively performing. As soon as my hand touched hers, she flipped her hand over gripped my hand in hers, pulling it to rest low between her thighs and beneath her panties. When I felt the silkiness of the hair, I was lost for a moment. Her mound was covered, but her thighs were smooth and what down that was there had been neatly trimmed. This was not the coarse growth of a mature woman, but the thin strands of budding youth that carried the promise of a spring flower. She opened her knees just a bit, hardly enough to allow my fingers any access as she placed her delicate hand over mine and guided my reluctant digits to be coaxed further until I felt her feminine lips begin to separate under the pressure of my finger as it was forced by hers. I noticed her wetness immediately after my middle finger slid along between her inner lips and I marveled at how adroitly she pulled my hand back toward her navel. Back only to hesitate when the ball of my index finger touched that tiny caped protrusion that women have that so reminds me of the hidden charms of some orchids. She was holding my wrist in her dainty hand as she turned her sweet face to mine. Her thoughts were as clear as if she had spoken. I complied by letting my fingers go and as if they had a mind wholly of their own, the index finger settled into the groove made between the outer lip and the center (now swollen) hooded structure while my middle finger took up its position opposite that sensitive structure. Wetness bathed my middle finger almost immediately and in copious amounts. She sucked in a deep and shuddering breath, the air whistling through those full lips and brilliant white teeth. The very tip of her tongue pressed slightly between the top an bottom. Now the game became one of responding to her signals through from her though her hand on my wrist. I consider myself an adequate horseman and have learned long ago to ride using only my body and knees to communicate to the animal, thus freeing my hands to other tasks such as shooting or roping. Such was her skill with her hand on mine. It was as if she had in some way connected to me so seamlessly that where one of us began and the other ended was blurred. She seemed to enter my very mind and I had to but willingly surrender myself to her needs and lust. I felt my fingers moving ever so softly around and over the little elongated member, never actually touching the part unprotected tip, but riding over and sliding the sheath up and back, up and back...her breath quickened. I glanced at her face. Her cheeks were growing red, yet along her jaw from her ear to her chin and across her creamy forehead, her skin remained pale. Her thin nostrils flared and closed as her breathing grew more rapid and shallow. A pale sheen formed on her upper lip and over her brow, a few wayward strands of blond hair were plastered to her temples. Her eyelids seemed to have a bluish cast as they fluttered and opened to reveal only a sliver of white, the iris rolled nearly toward her eyebrows. She clenched her teeth and slowly her lips pulled back exposing her teeth...as straight and white as any ever seen on a magazine cover. I smelled a familiar sent...not of sweat nor even of the sea, but of feminine innocence. A musky sweetness headier than any perfume; a dulcet tanginess that issues not from the primary organs of reproduction, but from a much more subtle set of glands spread over the skin. Like the sweetness in the air following a rain carries the certainty of reproduction, these pheromones can drive one mad with a passion to fulfill one's creative destiny. I breathed in this heady mix that spoke of virginity begging to be offered upon the creative alter of sacrifice. This was a force of nature. A force as mighty as the power of the tides and as sweet as a stamen. She began to make little noises in her throat that spoke more of doves than horses. I felt the largest muscles in her legs begin to tense and tremble, her back arched and she pushed her shoulders against the seatback. She relaxed and moved both my ring finger and my middle finger into her vagina. My index finger was soaked with the flood issuing from her vagina. I slid it down and around between her legs as she raised those beautiful knees nearly to her tiny breasts and braced her feet against the opposite seat. I felt the softness of her anus, wet and inviting, but though I circled around that opening with the tip of my finger, I hesitated to penetrate, yet. Her thighs were now quivering with such violence the seat was shaking. She pushed my fingers into her wetness and forced them out with the muscles inside...again and again. She did this until she was bucking against my palm. The muscles in her legs continued but settled into a rhythm, still shivering. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at me without focusing as she snaked her free hand around to grasp the back of my neck and pulled my lips to hers, kissing me repeatedly, forcing her tongue between my lips, sucking my tongue into her mouth. Suddenly she stiffened and then, just as suddenly collapsed...large tears brimming under those blue-white lids and filling the gap, quietly over flowing her bottom lids, splashing down from those bottomless blue eyes. Her head again resting on my shoulder. "What? What?" I whispered confused. She sniffed and looked up at me from where she was slumped down into her seat snuggled against my side. "Nevermind," she said. "I sometimes just get all so...emotional when I feel this good! And thank you," she whispered," you are really good! You know just what to do to let a girl feel like a woman." "Now I'm sure that you aren't satisfied by that and I'm no teaser. We will do somethin' about your condition, but I need a little rest." Then she said something that puzzled me. She said, "Now you think about what all of that meant." And went promptly to sleep, her head against my shoulder, both of her hands clasping my hand. I again watched the shadows grow longer as the sun followed the train, my mind a logjam of facts, stray bits and pieces of emotions, the sparks flashing from the occasional collisions of random ideas. My slight discomfort in my groin dissipated slowly, the pressure and pain unwinding to be sopped up into my stomach, buttocks, and thighs. The ache and tenseness left my back, but I could not relax. The light from the windows dimmed as the day faded and the interior lights flickered on casting their orange glow onto the polished wooden panels of the car. I must have dozed, because I awoke with a start and for a moment struggled to recall what my circumstances were. I glanced to my side. She was gone. My neck was stiff, but my cock was limp. I stretched and twisted, feeling a "pop" as the muscles relaxed and I relief flowed through my sore shoulders. I leaned forward slightly and brought my hand up to my forehead. As I did, I smelled my fingers...her scent lingered. Not at all unpleasant, but musky and thick as a remnant of rich wine or clam sauce might remind one of a heavy meal. As memories of her came flooding back to me, I was aware of a stirring in my trousers and my undergarments began to bind and constrict. I decided to explore and see if my tiny, youthful, and aggressive companion was about. Besides, my bladder was signaling with a certain urgency a more basic function of my stiffened anatomy. Glancing at my watch, I also realized that if I hoped to dine that night, I had to make haste. I stowed through the swaying car and unfortunately found the water closet at its end occupied. I was about to open the door leading to the platforms outside between the cars when I felt my coat tail pull. Thinking that I had snagged it on some part of the train, I turned to see in the dimness a thin, pale hand reaching through the crack in the partially opened door of the toilet. I let her draw me in and pushed the door shut behind us, giving the lock a twist. Amusing Train Ride Ch. 02 As I rotated the brass bolt of the toilet door and felt it click into place, she smiled up at me, her childlike face inches from mine. I felt her sweet breath on my cheek like the first spring breeze. A few thin whips of downy, flaxen hair escaped from the silver hair clasp at the base of her neck and lifted to tickle my temples. She wasted no time, but began to unbuckle my belt and deftly slipped each black polished trouser button through its matching hole, never taking her eyes from mine. A small grin played about the corners of her mouth, yet in contrast, she had a melancholy aura about her eyes. Her mouth held my attention more even than what her hands were doing. It was a wonderful feature, soft, full lips with sensuous curves, wide hiding even milky teeth behind which lurked that warm insistent tongue that I had so recently experienced delving into my mouth. I so longed to cover her mouth with mine and so to let her feel the hunger for her that spun my head again. To have my response acknowledged with her whole being was knocking my knees from with under me. The temptation to taste her lips again was strong. I had to place my hands behind me and grip the lavatory edge to steady myself against the swaying of the train. My lethargic phallus was beginning to stir, sniffing life as to if to recall its duty. She deftly slipped her hand under my shirt and down into my underwear, pushing the waistband down in the process while with her other hand, she grasp my privates and levered them up and over, exposing me to her downcast gaze. "Ooooh! Well, well now! This is more like it! Ample, but still a bit flaccid though don't you think? Maybe we can do something about this before dinner, even?" She said this looking directly into my eyes as she held my testicles in one hand and moved her other hand slowly to the tip of my pineal shaft, encircling the knob with her fist and twisting, her thumb and middle finger not meeting. She sank to one knee and placed a feather kiss under the glans followed by a very wet lick. I looked down at her. She licked again to soak the tender under glans so that the ball of her thumb slicked up and down, around and around. I swelled to bursting; my breath came in gasps. I felt as a trout out of water. "Yes, Oh dear Lord, yes!" I sighed. Thinking that she couldn't possibly open her mouth wide enough to take in the girth, I placed one hand under her chin, hooking my thumb behind one side of her jaw and my middle finger behind the other side and with a firm grip, palm beneath her chin, I pulled her upward. She followed, but with a slightly puzzled look on her face. Her blond hair cascaded down to her shoulders beginning as tight curls on the sides of her head and opening into long spiral coils. She smelled of lavender and lilac. Yet I couldn't let her continue, not then, anyway. Instead, when she was standing her full height up on her tip toes, I spun her body about and held her close, my chin over her shoulder, my ear against hers, feeling the softness of her cheek against mine, the roughness of the stubble of my beard digging into her face. I kissed her cheek with the corner of my mouth and pulled back to take her earlobe into my lips. She arched her back and hung her head back over my shoulder, her eyes closed. I found my hands across her front, one on her hip the other cupping a small, but very alert breast with erect nipple. The nipple lodged out resting between my index and fore fingers. I squeezed it and moved my fingers together. I whispered to her, "I have an entire compartment for this trip my dear. I would be honored if you could share dinner with me now and then share my accommodation later. If you see your way clear, that may be much more suitable than stolen moments in toilets and under blankets. " She giggled. "Sir, the honor would be mine, but what leads you to think that I do not also have a birth?" I simply shrugged. What was the matter with me? I wanted her so badly. I needed a release. She was being eager not demanding, youthful, but not young, certainly not a child. I had had younger women in my past during drunken debaucheries. I could still rent them by the dozen delivered to my door should I choose. Once I recalled I fancied I wanted a harem which led to my pleasuring eight deflowered virgins at once. (That is another story for another time and was more an exercise in logistics than romance.) She was in her quaint and charming way, an innocent. I, on the other hand, was an old goat. I no longer had any marriage to be concerned about. My only child had disappeared into the nothingness of the night many years before. My business and family fortune, while not immense, had left me comfortable and able to indulge in such excursions as this one that I was now enjoying although I rarely gave myself that permission anymore. I was in danger of becoming a recluse; sleeping days and pacing nights. The winter had not been kind to me. I had suffered a series of minor ailments that plague the ageing, a signal that from now on life would be a cascade of declines the recovery from each destine to take longer than the last until as each set of organs failed, death would finally overtake us and our corporeal beings would be recycled into the great, churning, mix this particular arrangement never to be repeated. I was depressed, befuddled, and hopeless. I felt a twisted, dried husk of a person. An aimless, pointless, and drifting hulk who was good to no one, indeed, with my temper, had I been a ship, I might have been considered a menace to the seas. I could have afforded anything, but wanted nothing. I had tried many of the suggestions from well meaning friends as well as advice from those who had their own agendas. I escorted many beautiful women to numerous lavish affairs and shared the beds of all sorts from slatterns to nobility, married, virgin, hopeful, and adventurous. I was not immune from the wiles of pretty men and combinations. For a time I devoted myself to other sports. Never reaching any level of proficiency except in riding and shooting. I dabbled in Eastern Meditation and philosophy. I anonymously funded groups to help free people of color to become established in their own businesses. I was touched by the arts and found sculpture to be to my liking, a passion in fact, but then that too, at last faded and my focus blurred. It seemed that as soon as one thing would catch my interest, I tired of it and cut loose until I drifted into another diversion. My needs became more simple until, my one remaining discipline had been to keep a journal, yet the entries became shorter and less meaningful until for weeks it was a string of dates much like the tally marks on a prison cell wall to track the date. I wanted out, but suicide was not an option that I was prepared to accept. I had made some preparations and left instructions to the small household staff concerning the family property and booked tickets west. I had thought of reserving a private car, but I was not seeking isolation, just a little privacy, therefore; I chose a double compartment with the toilet and double bed that First Class offered. I needed a new start. I rearranged my clothing and stepped from the room, across the enclosed platform and into the dinning car where I used that toilet to wash my hands for dinner. Not more than a few minutes later, she entered the car. She had changed out of her dress and now was wearing baggy purple velour trousers with a lavender silk waist sash and a navy velvet vest with gold buttons over a white lace blouse. In her ears she wore long fine chain earrings of gold. How she had managed the time to redo her hair I would never know, but there are some mysteries of the female sex that are just beyond my ability to learn. She was very becoming and exotic in this attire, even if it were not entirely appropriate for evening; however, as we were traveling, most passengers were also nominally underdressed. I stood by as the waiter seated her at our table. I had ordered an '02 Merlot and a dozen oysters on the half-shell. I nodded at the waiter, a slim young man with a pencil mustache and a complexion of anthracite coal wearing a spotless white jacket. He spun the wine carafe in the ice before he spilled a dash into my goblet. I sniffed the rich bouquet and felt my mouth flood in anticipation. As the deep red liquid washed over and around my teeth and tongue my entire mouth awakened. I sat the glass down and he filled her goblet to one third of the brim before he in turn filled mine. She lifted her glass and uttered in a low throaty voice, "A toast to performance and success in our future?" "No matter what the endeavor, how big...or how small." was my response. We raised our glasses and touched the crystal rims together. She wrinkled her nose. I raised one eyebrow. She had a greens with asparagus spears and tomato salad with wine vinaigrette and olive oil dressing. She poured a drop of oil and a little vinaigrette into her side dish, she stirred them together adding a dash of salt. When her salad arrived, she speared a ripe cherry tomato with her fork and rotated it in the mix of dressing picking up a thick coating and placed the fruit into her mouth onto her tongue. She pursed her lips until the tomato peeked out between her lips, her gaze fixed on me. As she bit down and her lips pursed to contain the fruit, I could hear the muffled "pop" when the skin broke and the pulp exploded into her mouth. The six oysters that I had ordered arrived and they were huge, sitting on the Railroad plate nestled in a bed of deep green lettuce. I had a fleeting mental image of six sea nymphs lounging nude on the tidal rocks in kelp beds. The candle light played a glittering elegance over their wet surfaces like the early rising morning sun on wet beach pebbles, fresh washed by the passing surf. She swallowed and pulled her lips into a little lopsided grin, showing me her teeth. She chewed each spear of asparagus separately after dipping it with deliberation into the dressing. Her lips made little "O's" around the shaft when she sucked the dressing from the head bit of the tips. After she had removed the liquid from the tip, she pulled back those luscious lips and bit cleanly through the head with her teeth exposed. I love to inhale the aroma of freshly shucked oysters before I gently pluck one from its shell and let it slide into my mouth where I can feel the cool moist flesh give between my tongue and my palette. The light salt liquor oozed between my teeth. Occasionally her nostrils would flare as if she were a predator eyeing her prey as she attentively never allowed her gaze to leave my face. I was mesmerized. I could imagine how a bird must feel before the strike of a viper. One doesn't sink one's teeth into an oyster so much as one squeezes it until it bursts, flooding one's oral cavity with a nectar of the sea and the raw flesh forms a delicate taste sensation and texture of smoothness and slickness found in warm clotted cream. Flavors are released as the warmth of one's mouth heats the delicate flesh of the oyster. For her main course, she selected the Cornish hen stuffed with green peas and sautéed mushrooms. The dish came surrounded with small new potatoes and carrots tossed with lightly steamed clams. She shucked each clam with her fork and stacked the shells aside, each cupped inside the former. I always linger to savor the experience allowing each sense in its turn to fully be expressed to perfection, thus to fully and slowly enjoy each unique bouquet. Each species has its own complete set of attributes that delight the tongue, nose, and palate. My favorite is from the southern most islands of New Zealand; however, these were from the coast of main and were delightful in their way as any other. For a moment I thought to change my entrée, these fragrant jewels of the tide were so large, but in the end I chose to keep my order of the 16 oz porterhouse bison steak, chuck wagon fries, green beans, and squash. I prefer my venison rare, but with a seared crust on the exterior; very little or no fat; grilled, not fried. I knew the chef's work well and anticipated another totally satisfying dining experience. This was done to my taste. I later had to struggle to manage even half of the entree although it was excellent. She deftly dismembered the bird, removing first its wings and legs, eating the morsels of flesh as she went, neatly stacking the bones to one side. Before she finished the last thigh, she offered it to me! I was taken aback and refused, but amused when she placed the whole piece into her mouth to strip the meat from the bone as she pulled it out through her teeth. I stabbed my fork into the two inch thick slab of meat and slid my blade across it feeling little resistance. The blade opened the dense tissue and a long, thin, blood red ribbon rolled away from the main. Using her knife and fork, she opened the carcass and lifted off the tender plump breasts, setting the smooth, white, succulent slivers aside until she had picked up her spoon and scooped out the moist, sticky stuffing. She sat to devouring the remainder of her dinner between draughts of wine. I noticed that she had a bit of stuffing on the tip of her nose. I touched my nose with my napkin and nodded to her. She understood, but instead of removing it with her napkin, you can imagine my shock when she licked it off! The woman had a tongue like a lizard! She giggled, I assume at my expression. Her eyes seemed to turn from the innocent pale periwinkle blue to a fiery yellow orange. It was at this point that she suggested dessert. I preferred a only a Drambui while she chose raspberry sorbet. I found myself pleasantly lightheaded after the second carafe of wine and in a rather exuberant mood which was radically different from what I'd been struggling through for the last year. I was against my usual custom of retiring to the smoking car for a time to be a waste tonight, but she insisted that I go saying that she needed some time to herself, alone and without distractions. I ordered a bottle of brandy and a single red rose to be sent to my compartment and then I strolled to the smoking car. Amusing Train Ride Ch. 03 Evil sometimes wears a pleasant face I have found. I strolled across the smoking car to the bar where the woman behind the bar smiled at me, her gold incisor gleaming from her mahogany face. She could have been any age, I suppose, from thirty to seventy. I'd seen her before, but not on every turn. She was polishing immaculately clear heavy tumblers, each with the etched RR symbol and the flutes at the bottom. "Your usual smoke, Mr. Richard?" "That would be very nice, Francine, thank you." Without waiting for me to reach the polished maple of the surface, she placed the humidor down and flipped back the lid. I smiled back and liberated three of Havana's best tobacco, long, dark, and deliciously aromatic, from their moist protective prison and inserted two of them into my stiff leather case, igniting the third from the match Francine that was holding. Sometimes I amused my self by pretending that different members of the crew had developed deeper personal relationships than apparent, but seldom was the case. Francine and George were the exception that proved the rule. They had been married and divorced to each other three times. Propping my elbow on the bar and leaning back, sipped the sweet heady drink and turned to survey the car. The smoke was layered through the car and the scent of cigars mixed with stale beer oozed from the hard wood walls and the stamped tin ceilings. I dipped the tip of my cigar into my drink and drew another mouthful of the thick richness in, to allow it to flow out through my nose. There were the usual and expected; salesmen, stockmen, a couple of military officers, a man of leisure. My curiosity became piqued when I noticed what I assumed from their complexion were two Indians. These were not turban wearing Sykes but neither were they Cherokee, Lakota, Navaho or any other native nation. While seeing Indians in the smoking car was a first, seeing them dressed in formal European attire was so unusual I caught myself staring and jerked my eyes away, but not before one noticed. I turned back to the bar and continued my idle inspection in the mirror behind the bar. A card game of chance was occupying five men in the far corner and jugging from the size of the winnings, one fellow was a bit luckier by nature than the other four. Professional no doubt. Opposite the card players but still in the same end of the car, I finally noticed a tall man dressed in black, a somber enough color even for men of the cloth, but this gent was absent a collar. He also wore an ankle length leather duster with an unfashionably wide brim black felt hat low over his eyes. A dark mug of beer sat in front of him. He was so unusual, I thought it a bit odd that I hadn't noticed him first. I took pains not to hold my attention on him. No one paid him much notice either. "Interesting mix you have tonight, Francine." I intoned between puffs. "Yes sir, I suppose so." "Know anything about Mr. Death over there in the corner?" I shifted my eyes slightly toward the man that already I had begin to think of as "the dark stranger." "First time that I've seen him was tonight." "You aren't much help to me tonight, Francine." I smiled. "Doesn't pay enough." she flashed a brief grin back. "You want a refill on that?" "I don't think so." "Anything else, then?" "Tequila might be nice. Neat." "Double, Mr. Richard, on me." "Why thank you, Francine. How kind." and I dropped a fiver into her jar. "Thank you, Mr. Richard. I'll keep my eyes open for you." The liquor stung as it crossed my palate and departed leaving a kaleidoscope of changing flavors in its wake. I dropped my cigar into the mirrored brass cuspidor as I turned to leave. Francine glanced away from me toward the front of the car as the tall man shifted and unfolded up out of his seat. He swayed with the movements of the railcar as he moved toward us and the center of the space. He hid his eyes under the brim of his hat, but as he passed me, I thought that I caught a peek of the most handsome, yet strangest face imaginable. The man had pale pink irises. From the distance of three feet his thin mustache was more obvious and set on his upper lip like the spring remnants of the last snow of winter just before it slipped from the eves. His expression was as blank as a snow bank. I felt chilled at his passing, but my oh my, he was good looking. Waiting until the liquor had thawed my blood, I followed in the direction of his departure back through the dining car and on to my sleeper compartment. I passed George, the porter as he was finishing his duties in the passenger car. "Your compartment is ready for you, Mr. Richard." He said, "and your niece asked to wait for you there?" He asked, indicating that he was assuming he had been correct to allow her entrance. "Oh yes, thank you, George. Please accept this for your daughter." and I handed him a five dollar note. He accepted without hesitation, but protested that it was not necessary. "You're not like some folks." "Oh? Have you been having trouble with any passengers, George?" It turned out that George didn't have a very high opinion of my "Mr. Death" citing his curt attitude, brusque manner, and habit of not tipping even though he was demanding. I sympathized noting that sometimes we can't choose our companions. At first thought that I must have been mistaken when I entered my compartment and locked the door. But a moment later my "niece" stepped forth from the bath. On the small side table sat the single rose that I had requested placed in a milkglass vase. She was wearing a calf-length deep blue riding skirt and a loose white long-sleeved silk blouse with lace cuffs. Her hair was held loosely at the nape of her neck with a filigreed silver clasp that used a motif of two galloping mustangs. Beside the bed sat her tall riding boots of hand stitched and tooled leather. In two steps she was across the space and had her arms about my neck, her mouth against mine, lips open, tongue moving over my teeth. My blood began to rise as did all of the self-doubts. She stepped back holding my shoulders her arms straight. "You are not going to do this again! Now just stop it! You call to me; you want me; you need me; and then you pull away! I am here for you! I have always been here for you! I will always be here for you. You are being a bastard. I am fed up with the games, the lies, the self-delusion. Everyone knows what you are capable of except you. Now lets do what it takes to get through this and move on!" And with that outburst, she caught me totally off guard when she swung from her waist and planted an open handed, ear ringing slap that stung my face from chin to temple. As I stood there, stunted, my cheek rapidly blushing deep red, she wound up and walloped my other side equally hard. I watched her draw back to layer another slap over the first before my head cleared enough to catch her wrist in mid strike and spin her around pulling her arm up behind her back. She staggered and bumped into the bed. I tore off my jacket and ripped my trousers loose to let them drop to my knees, shoving my underwear down atop them. I turned her to face away form me and forced my knee between hers. With little pressure from me she separated her knees. I opened her legs still further by tapping her ankles outward with the toe of my shoe until her feet were slightly more than shoulder width apart. Then I pushed down and forward on her lower back at the base of her spine until her knees bent to rest against the mattress. I released her hand and she toppled forward. She was forced to catch herself from falling by throwing her hands out to the back wall of the bunk. She began to lower her head but I reached over her back and grasp a hand full of shining curls and the silver hair clip with the dancing horses, pulling her head up and back to force her chin to jut forward. I slid my hand under her skirt finding a smooth white leg. I swept my hand up the leg and over her hip to rest atop her thigh, the ball of my thumb dropping into the depression that defined the separation of the largest muscles of her body. The tip of her tail bone sat under my thumbnail, only a sheer layer of silk between nail and soft skin. Now it was her turn to tremble. Curling my fingers into claws and hooking the tips under the lace of the waistband of her panties, I pulled back and down, feeling the material slip back, stretching it over her buttocks, still downward I pushed until I could catch the back edge of her pantywaist with my thumb and reach between her legs with my fingers to grip the crotch and the front of the pantywaist, thus I was able to push the garment down to her knees and expose that beautiful ass to my gaze. I was a gorgeous hard, toned ass. I drank in the view for a long moment. Lust over came me. I wanted her. I needed her. I must have her. I would have her, again and again. The skin of her ass was so smooth beneath my burning cheek as I ran my chin and cheek over those hips raining kisses. With small bites, I teased the tender flesh at the top of the valley. Goose bumps formed as she felt my tongue begin to explore this groove and saliva ran down the space between those twin globes of firm muscle. Ahead of the flood, I found a place of extra softness that yielded to my gentle probing and swirling tongue. The goose flesh spread over her ass and spilled onto her thighs. A tight moan escaped her throat when the very tip of my tongue teased into the ring of muscle at the center of her anus. She was very still, not moving at all. Panting in shallow bleats she shivered as I released my grip on her panties and slipped my thumb under the waist of her skirt and blouse, bunched together at the small of her back. I followed the groove of her spine up her back with my wrist, pushing her garments ahead of my hand to grasp the strap of her bra. She arched her shoulders back thus loosening the tension of the garment that was supporting her breasts. Between thumb and index finger I squeezed the catches and the ends slipped away around her ribcage to either side allowing her breasts to spring free. My hand continued exploring up her back, tracing her spine until I felt my fingers and thumb grip her neck. I released her hair from the constraints of her filigreed silver clasp. Hair cascaded down. The clip dropped onto the sheets. My dick was tight, bloated, the head swollen, the rim of the glands standing out, the skin stretched slick. I rested it on her back at the top of her crack above her tail bone. I gripped both of her cheeks and pulled then apart, displaying her puckered wet anus and the downy fuzz below that hinted at the beginning of her maiden hood. I leaned back away from her and pushed my dick down along that valley until the knob fell below her and then I leaned forward to her again, fitting my pelvis against her buttocks, my penis beneath her, pressing her velvety, fuzz covered mons, its crown nestled lovingly against the spot above which hid her nub. She tried to move her legs together, but I kept my knee between hers. I pulled back an inch and stopped. She followed back to place her bottom against my thighs again. I felt a warmth of moisture begin to seep onto my fleshy rod as her folds began to open. She was wet. She was more than wet, she was on fire. I hesitated thinking of her youth, her innocence, the possible consequences that would only be known in the future... "Oh please, please, don't tease me like this. Take me. Fuck me! Fuck me for both our sakes!" she breathed hoarsely so quietly that I could barely hear. "You will be the death of me, I need you. Don't you understand? More than you know!" But I didn't care if she want it or if she would die or if I would die. Nothing mattered now. She reached beneath her belly to grip my slick, sticky, shaft and guide it to her tight opening. I placed my thumb on her anus and swiveled the ball about, not penetrating, but feeling the soft, delicate tissue ease gently and then tense again as waves of arousal swept over her nubile body. She pulled at my shaft until the head slid along her sacred valley, bumping against and scooting over the mound at the top where hid the center of pleasure. After several dozen passes she pushed the head upward at the same moment that she rotated her pelvis up to align her warm grotto with my seeking shaft. The head did not ride over her love button, but lodged between her hungry, stretched, spreading lips. I pulled back only to feel her dig her nails into the slickness that was my stiff manhood. A groan passed my lips and I thrust forward to ease the pain, to gain entrance, to give her pleasure. "Oh God! Yes! Finally!" she cried out. I was inside her and in another sense, she was inside me. I was a meat puppet. The length of my cock seemed endless as I slid into her past rings of muscles gripping me as tightly as her fist had. With difficulty I pulled back until my dick nearly broke free from her hold only to feel her power suck me back into her stomach again. Repeatedly my balls slammed against her clit with an audible splat and rivulets of her lubrication streamed down my legs. She reached back between our legs to grip my balls and control my thrusts with firm tugs of her fist. Rolls of the sea crashed over my body as huge storm waves smashing on a headland. I could smell the awakening of the earth from the beginning of time. We soon picked up the rhythm of the wheels as the train carriage trucks passed over the rails in our thrusting. It was as if we were a part of the train, the rails, the Earth. We were raw and primitive, a part of creation, out of time and place. Removed from the moment, but dissolved into the Forever. My body and my mind merged. I could no more think about a single thing than I could about everything. All synapses in my brain seemed to be firing at once. Thoughts and images tumbled and soared and flew inside my skull, flashing at me out of a fog. I could hear orchestras and see fireworks and feel the sting of sleet out of a maelstrom over my body in waves. My body was no longer mine; it had become but a tool, beyond my control. And it was a fabulous feeling. Amusing Train Ride Ch. 04 We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly. — Sam Keen * We both had been gasping to fill our lungs barely an hour before, our sweat drenched bodies slick with lust, minds and hearts as one, collapsed into ourselves. Now I stirred to find her removing my shoes and trousers. I feebly tried to wave her off, but she only smiled and continued her ministrations. Soon I was naked and washed clean, wiped down with an astringent from scalp to sole. She too was nude. She seem more comfortable without clothing than with it. I slid my body to the wall of the berth and stretched feeling for all the world like a great, tawny cat. "Who are you?" I asked. "Does it matter?" she replied. "Would you have behaved differently if you knew? Does your ignorance change anything now?" "But I have never..." she put her finger on my lips. "We still have more things to do before we are finished." She rolled over to put her face over my middle. Looking down at her upturned little face I was reminded of a baby bird sitting in a nest of spun gold for her mouth was open wide to take in the head of my cock and her hair spread like a halo. I could never remember my manhood ever being so large before, yet there I was, like another short veined leg ending in that wide, proud, throbbing mass of flesh. From side to side her head wagged to first cover the whole knob with saliva, shooting her amazing tongue back along the underside from tip all the way back to the base and dragging the tip forward over the sperm canal, encouraging the opening of all the passageways. I felt stirrings from my scrotal sac to the mouth of what had become my magnificent machine. The best was yet to come. It was with difficulty that finally, after she had rotated her lips and whole head, smoothing with her tongue that she managed to get the head past her teeth. She was very gentle and took extreme care not to allow those perfect teeth to do damage to the delicate skin beneath them. When she was not seemingly lost in an ecstasy of her own, she conspiratorially cast her eyes upward looking into mine unwaveringly with an almost unnerving passion. The pupils changed colors as she played on me. From that cornflower blue to violet to orange and yellow. It wasn't important. Every time I felt that I was about to abandoned all control and pump every drop of semen from balls, she would change and divert my attention just enough to help me regain my focus one more time. I realized after forty minutes or so that her turned up nose was pressed against my pelvic bone, nestled in the thick nest of hair that runs from my chest to my knees. All along the shaft and even the head, she was working the muscles of her mouth and throat in a firm but gentle wave or rhythm. The effect was both soothing and satisfying; incredibly erotic. Then she spread her fingers apart to gripped both of my butt cheeks in her small, strong hands; dug her nails in deeply and pulled my ass apart. My reaction was of surprise, but I had no time to marvel at the sensation before I felt her tongue run along the lower side of the shaft to dart between my balls and penetrate my arse. "She must have a tongue twenty inches long!" I remember thinking. "How does she do that?" This was not a simple tickle around the rim. I felt at least three inches snake past the tight sphincters into my bowel. A part of the same motion, the end of her tongue slowly thickened, swelling until I was filled beyond easy removal. The pulsing that she was doing with the muscles of her mouth and throat was intensifying along the length of my dick and began to echo in my anus and rectum with her tongue. Sweat began to form on my forehead and upper lip, spreading to my chest and underarms. I began the uncontrollable shivers and involuntarily my pelvis was thrusting. I could begin to feel my scrotum tightening in preparation for a gigantic release. It was then that, just when I thought I would burst, I felt her hands release my buttocks and slid around to my chest to reattach to the muscles of my chest. They clawed at my erect nipples. "Um hum! Um hum! Um hum! Um hum!" over and over, each time nodding her head and pressing on my prostate with that impossible marvelous tongue, urging me to spew into her ravenous depths. As I spasmed from along my genitals from anus to glans, I could hear and feel her coaxing me to give more to her with little noises from her throat. Great gushes of fluid poured through my man parts to spew out into the back of her throat. She retracted her tongue and pulled back to hold just the throbbing helmet in her lips but the volume and flow was such that cum splashed over her chin and down onto her pouty, pointed, upturned breasts. Her head thrown back, she put her palms onto her face and smeared the thick, rich liquid over the skin of her chest and cheeks like a lotion. As those long nails had raked across and dug into my nipples, I had felt all of the sexual frustration and energy begin to release, breaking away and washing through my system like the ice jammed rivers giving way before the spring floods. I was becoming free. I could flow again! Amusing Train Ride Ch. 05 "Change alone is eternal, perpetual, immortal" Arthur Schopenhauer I had had an epiphany. She was not so young as I thought. This fey-woman was like no one who I had ever known. She was clever and witty and wise far beyond her years. Her beauty surpassed not only my experience, but also my wildness imaginings. Transparent alabaster skin so soft to the touch she was more a work of art than a living being. The very air around her shimmered with the heady mix of fragrances that I had formerly associated with the nubile budding of youth; sweat, yes, but also a hint of underlying sexual buds about to blossom forth into the ripe fullness of womanhood. She was not the babe that she seemed. She refused to divulge her age, either by ignoring my question or returning every query with another, all based on how useless such information was to what ever it was we felt, one about the other. I had first assumed that she was emerging from her very early teens, perhaps fifteen, but a very precocious young lady of good breeding. Although she had done nothing directly to dispel such a premise, I gradually realized that her depth and breadth of knowledge and experience far exceeded that of any youngster of that age. In fact, I had begun to think of her more as one of twice that age. Of course, even at that age, I felt that the difference in years between us was of such that I was at an advantage. Her humor displayed itself as an infectious giggle or a lift of an eyebrow that brought to my mind how old and jaded I had become, but also reminded me that my life need not be lived like a gambler's, emotions held in close and tight, away from light, hidden, protected, and shielded lest some long ago vanquished enemy discover a weakness to exploit, an advantage to pursue at my expense or demise. My defenses evaporated soon after she made my acquaintance and we had had dinner together. I found myself inviting her to visit with me in my private compartment. That led to her playing coy and to my nearly savaging her. I was horrified at my behavior at first, but she soon put me at ease. We both had fallen asleep after lovemaking, but she awakened before me and had bathed. Her administering a sponge bath to me with lilac scented water and an astringent, which left me feeling very mellow, awakened me. I only wished to hold her and be held in her arms. I longed to have her sweet breath on my cheek and to lavish kisses over her face and neck. She had seemed impatient (after what seemed to have been a short time with her mouth sliding over up down and around my rapidly rising maleness) to straddle my face with her knees, placing her sweet lovely, succulent femininity directly over my face. I felt compelled to oblige her unspoken request and I returned her favor with ministrations to her sex. After we had finished that session, I was nearly comatose, but I felt more confidant, alive, and creative than if there had been a blazing fire, a miniature sun as it were, blazing within my chest. I had power that I had never dreamed possible and I knew at that point that none of this was due to me directly. "What can I call you?" I asked her as again I remembered that her only reference to her name was "Slayer" as her last name. "Oh you poor thing," she smiled. "Whatever you wish, of course." And she gave out with the tinkling giggle that I had come to love. "No, no, I mean it. What may I call you, really?" "Ah, ever the realist, the scientist with your need to catalogue, categorize, label, and fix in a display case with a mounting pin through the thorax. OK, my love, but do try not to make too much of just a name?" "Of course not!" I stammered confused by the sadness that had creeped into her voice. "Mel. It is a shortened version of Melpomene." I tried to recall where I had heard the name. "Greek, yes? From the creation myths is it not?" She pretended a slight pout and wrinkled her nose. "Oh my darling, I should have known that you would have known! Now can we be done with this silly game of guessing and have you rest so that you will have the energy that you may need to finish what lies ahead?" I understood her to mean that she wanted more sex. "Well I wouldn't want to disappoint you for anything, but what have you in mind? I assume that since the only place between the two of us that we have not been is your anus...?" "Ooh! No, that was most definitely not what I had in mind, but now that you have brought the subject up for, ah, consideration it is certainly worth the thought! Is that something that you would want to do with me? You might be surprised that in all my experiences, that has not been one in which I have indulged. I guess we could say that I am an anal virgin." And she laughed before she kissed me passionately on the lips. "Isn't that information funny, coming from a Greek? Before we go farther on this journey of exploration, I must be sure that you will be with me throughout. No second thoughts later. If you want to separate and each go our own ways, now is the time." I assured her that I was in for a dime, in for dollar come what may. She smiled a sad little smile and hugged me. I felt a tear on my cheek. I tried to see her eyes, but she had already turned away from me. When she turned back, she handed me a glass of wine and instructed me to drink. As I finished the wine, she explained that she had drugged it. I would sleep for a few hours and then awaken, fully recovered. Perhaps even I would be enhanced. She then took me into her arms and sang a lovely song, none of which can I recall now. I do remember having several dreams; I don't think any had anything to do with sex. Then I awoke. We were already engaged in the act. I was a fucking sex machine, my cock a huge, slick piston, rampant, plunging in and out of her tight flesh cylinder, pulling her nubbin into and out of her tight crevice like the drivers on the locomotive. She arched up her back to keep with me, but I pulled nearly away from her sopping sex before I again thrust hard forward again, spreading her legs wide with my thighs and driving her diminutive body upward over the sheets until her head slammed into the pillow against the headboard and she grunted, with pain or pleasure it had long ceased to matter to me. Each time I drove into her, she tried to open her carnal orifice to accommodate this new girth of mine that was giving me difficulty. Still she clung to me and dug her nails into my back, gasping into my ear about how she felt pleasantly stretched and then she would clamp tight with all the strength of every muscle inside the full length of her cunt as if she could hold me from drawing away and extracting myself, but each time, I would stop for only a moment with my cock buried into her before I would slide my hips away, drawing my vein cobbled manhood up her crevice and near to her pulsating bundle of nerves; indeed, sometimes sliding out over it and mashing it down, crushing it between my solid meaty rod and the high hairy mound that covered her pubic bone. "Oh God! I can't think," she screamed. "I can't breathe!" "I can't see," she moaned, "pleasure, pleasure me! Oh, Dick you are so beautiful! My mind is a blank slate, a virgin canvas! Paint upon my mind! Oh fuck! Oh the colors! Oh fuck!" "Oh, Dick! I feel as though a soft cloud has filled me as the pinkness of a spring morning heralds the sun with the promise of brightness. Fill me with your love, my dearest!" With that she flushed a deep, red and swooned beneath me, limp and slack, her beautiful expressive eyes rolled back into their sockets. "No! No! Oh no!" I howled. "You are not going to deprive me of my pleasure, too! I will have you bitch!" I scooted down her prostrate form and grabbed her slim ankles. With a firm and deliberate pull, I snapped her legs down between my knees as I knelt on the bed. Crossing one over the other, I gave her feet a twist and her body flopped over. One arm was trapped under her chest, the other stretched over her head. I flattened my hand and palm up, knifed it across her body under her at the hips. My forearm was under her pelvis as I lifted her back and up toward me. I felt the wetness of our lovemaking on the back of my forearm and inhaled deeply of the sea as her knees spread apart from the movement. A contented moan escaped her lovely throat. Into the void beneath her waist, I jammed a pillow, maybe two, I can't recall. I paused to again admire her perfectly formed derriere, symmetrical firm cheeks; unmarked by any blemish. Then I grasp her knees at a point above the joint and pushed up and out. This spread her open to reveal her steaming cunt, still swollen form my recent abuse, but that was not the orifice of my attention now. What an attraction her tiny anus was, too. Glancing down, I was again amazed at the size of my phallus. Even though the activities of the last several minutes had taken their toll on its peak of turgidity and enormity, it was still by far larger than I ever remembered! The bulb upon its end like the helmet on a medieval battering ram; all purple, the slit opening in the end was dripping and oozing out the clear, viscous fluid that prepares the way for the impending charge which, if this flow was a sign, was to be copious. I pushed my hair back from my eyes while I stroked the length of this mighty shaft. Each time that I reached the end, I covered the crown and twisted as if I could unscrew it. By doing this, I milked another dollop of the clear lubricant into my palm to spread over the knob and back along the shaft. My thighs were trembling with anticipation. I continued to stroke as I reached out to her, smoothing her back and buttocks, kneading each and massaging up along her spine. Her body began to respond. I reached for the flask of scented oil and removed the cork with my teeth. I tasted the sweet flavor of lavender on my lips. I tipped up the bottle and allowed a drop to glide into my mouth. Spitting a few more drops into my other hand, I again covered my staff by stroking and squeezing the pulsating monster until deep inside my groin I began to feel the floodgates preparing to open. I leaned forward kissing and nibbling on her tailbone and dribbled my mix of oil and saliva into the crack between her ass cheeks. I spit a little into my hands and slid my palms up along her sides so lightly she may not have felt my gentle touch. When I reached her arms, I guided my fingers downward and around her underarms until her slight swells of breasts and their pouty pointed nipples were between my fingers. I pushed the points of the nipples down into her breasts and let them pop back out when I slid my fingers off. Then I tweaked them between index and middle fingers while I moved her breasts around her chest using my thumb, ring, and pinky fingers. Soon she was breathing deeply and her nipples were tight and erect. I occasionally flattened my hand and whipped the rough palms over her breasts and nipples, which caused her whole body to stiffen. I slid my hands in a continuous stroking motion from her tits to her ass along her spine and stomach, each time sliding my dick between her ass cheeks, going deeper each time. About every fourth cycle, I would nod down and kiss or bite her ass, always getting closer to the tender crack until I finally spread her apart and ran my face up and down between that tender valleys. She was relaxing her anus more each time that I rimmed her until I began alternating my tongue and finger, pulling a bit with my finger tip to help her stretch and relax. She had not regained her senses but her body was hardly asleep! She opened her legs to give me better access to her bottom by hoisting her womanhood up and back. I inserted another finger and soon had three in to the second knuckle. I began oiling and smoothing my erection in preparation because even as open and loose, as she seemed, the head of my cock was massive. I began to rub it up and down her butt hesitating each time that I passed that tight portal. She soon began not to shift to move me down to her love locker, but to center my bulbous member on her tiny opening. Her buttocks and thighs were covered with goosebumps and she was shivering. Finally, I lost all patience and stopped rubbing her back. Instead, I grabbed her hipbones and shoved my cock against her resisting orifice. I felt some give, but I had no hope of getting the opening to envelope my deformed shaft without some serious pain for her. I thought for a second and began to progress more slowly. I poured half the oil onto her asshole and my cock head before I quite firmly added pressure, slowly, yes, but firmly. She must have felt her butt begin to stretch because she began to awaken. "Oh fuck, dearest, go easy, easy, you're splitting me like a faggot!" I assumed she referred to the pieces of fuel that were split and used to stoke the train engine before the coal caught fire. My dick was so sensitive now that I could feel the tickle of her cunt hair. "Just relax you little bitch and this will all go much more easily for us both!" I drew back and worked three fingers, then four into her tight space. Our reward was a relaxation and an easing of tension until suddenly, my hand slipped in over the knuckles. "Ahh, oh God, ahh, ah! Stop! I can't stand this. I'll suck your cock and balls, but not this anymore, please!" She was in tears, her words blurting out between gasps. I swung the head of my cock and brought it to rest squarely against her tender portal. Then I increased the pressure. She tried to reach back and grab it or pull it away, but I slapped her smartly on her buttocks several times until she stopped. The little minx then made an attempt to slip her hand beneath her stomach so that she could maneuver the head down and into her pussy. I caught the wrist of that hand and reached up to grab the wrist of her other hand. A swift motion wrenched them down to a spot near her tailbone where I was able to firmly hold both in one hand by keeping an index finger between them. "Ohh! Now that is hurting my arms! Please stop now, you son of a bitch!" "No, I don't think that you really want me to stop anything, yet. At least not until you feel this monster cock jammed all the way into your ass and my balls bouncing off of your pussy, you little bitch!" I could say no more because the turgid mushroom shaped flare at the end of my cock had slipped past the first set of muscles in her bottom. I breathed in before I heaved forward again and continued to push. It slowly slid through the second set. I kept up the pressure and soon my thick, coarse, curly pubic hair was filling her butt crack with my balls dangling against her pussy lips. I moved back and forth sliding my prick in and out of her tightly stretched hole. She whimpered and moaned with each movement. She began to struggle to get up or out from under me, so I let my weight fall forward onto her shoulders holding her pinned to the bed. The soft hair that floated around my face carried such a wonderful fragrance that I still become aroused when a bit enters my nostrils, even now. She wiggled and tried to extract her legs before I captured them and held them trapped between my knees. These movements added to my excitement and lust. Exhausted, she went limp again and sobbed into the pillow. I felt anger rising in my chest. I didn't want to fuck a corpse! I gently released her hands and my reward was her viciously quick clenching of her fists, digging those fingernails into the tender flesh below my stomach. "Either you let go or I will shut you out of here and you can wander the corridors naked!" Slowly, she relaxed her grip. My reward for her was to reach under her from behind and insert my thumb into her slit with my four fingers covering her clit. I felt around with my thumb until I discovered a spongy place about the size of a grape. I fanned my fingers across and about the area of her clit without putting any pressure on it at all. Soon she gasped for breath and pushed back to meet my thrusts as if to pull me as far inside her grotto as possible. Her back became covered with sweat and she grunted with each thrust. The noise came from deep in her throat and had a rasping sound to it. When she was trembling and her thigh muscles were jerking in spasms, I squeezed both her clit and her G-spot simultaneously. She screamed and clawed and my arms. Her head turned nearly half way around, her chin was over her shoulder, and she kissed me longingly and lovingly, but so filled with lust I felt the heat down my throat. I felt her wrap her legs around mine and brace herself to drive against me. I lost all track of time and space. I had nothing to connect with to compare reality to. My world imploded into my sex. Testicles drew up so tight they were inside my body. Great gouts of semen shot through my groin out my tube and spewed from my cock. This was as no other ejaculation ever; it lasted for twenty gushes or more. I withdrew and shot over her back. She spun around and caught two or three squirts on her face and tits before she managed to stuff the great spurting head into her mouth where she drank down cascade after cascade of the rich, thick, creamy fluid. "Come to me my darling! I love you. I want to be with you always. We can travel the world together forever. I want no other man but you!" I struggled to stand. She had to hold me or I would have fallen. "Easy, my love. Lean on me while we go to the bath." I stood in the small milky porcelain basin that served as a tub and she sat at my feet while the rocking of the train caused the water to move around her body. I felt as I imagined a horse must after it had cooled from being ridden hard and put away wet. My penis was tender to her touch, but she was gentle. I had carefully sponged her nubile form clean and washed her silken hair. We were both exhausted and exuberant. Our water was becoming chilled. Calling George, our porter was an option, but we lacked the energy. "I can't stay here in the bath any longer, Mel. I think that you will have to help me get back into the berth again." She stood up and finished drying my tired body. Then she guided me back to bed. Before she adjusted the lamp and settled in beside me, she leaned over me. "There is something that I must tell you, my dear." She whispered to me as she bent over. "Hummm?" Was the best response that I could manage. "This isn't an ordinary train." "Yeah, I know." I replied. "It has a few extra cars and it is an express-limited." "Well, yes. But beyond even that." Her eyes twinkled, but her expression was a bit grimmer. "Oh? What do you mean?" I asked. Now my eyes were wide open and she had my full attention. "You know that behind the mail car is a car with animals, right?" "Yes, do recall George mentioning something about animals. I have my horses in the rearmost car and he was saying that the scent of the other animals had disturbed the horses on the first leg of the trip. But that isn't a problem now." "No, you're correct, your horses are calmer now. That isn't our concern." She furrowed her brow. "There are strange animals on the train. These animals must arrive at their destination. These animals must not escape from that car." "Surely the handlers are capable of keeping them under control and preventing their release, aren't they?" "Under most circumstances, of course, but I have good reason to think that there are Others on the train who would benefit greatly from releasing the animals and it is those who we must guard against." "How do we recognize these other people who would turn loose the zoo and what animals are we dealing with anyway that their release would be so dire?" "You have studied your classics and remember the mythical beasts that populate those tales I am sure?" Amusing Train Ride Ch. 05 "I'm not an expert on the subject, but I do have a smattering of knowledge, as does every educated person. You are not now about to tell me that we have a hypogryph or an unicorn in the baggage car are you?" I chuckled. "Oh no! It is much worse than that; much worse I'm afraid." "Ah ha. I see. Then of course we must exercise all precaution possible." I was suddenly nearly sickened by the horrid sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My young lover; this perfect picture of brilliant feminine youth, my image of precociousness; was absolutely hatter mad. My expression must have betrayed my dismay because her next comment showed that she read my thoughts. "Dearest, you must trust me about this, as absurd as it may seem. With your help, we have little chance of success; out you, I have none." "OK. What is that you have in mind for me?" I had few options. We were on a train in the wee hours of a cold spring morning, speeding across the heartland. I had just fucked myself stupid with a partner who was likely underage or insane or both and about whom I knew very little. How could listening to her now worsen my situation. Little did I know. "Not everyone on this train is as they appear to be. You went into the smoking car after dinner, correct?" I nodded. "While you were there, did you notice anything or anyone strange?" "Every person was male except the bartender and I have known her for several years." "Haven't you frequented the smoking car every evening after dinner, both on this trip and on every other trip that you have ever taken?" Again, I nodded. I was trying to follow her direction. "Didn't you notice a very tall man dressed entirely in black leather? He had very pale skin and iris so pale a blue as to be nearly white. He had been sitting in the front smoking car nursing a beer when I saw him." Yes, I had noticed him and had thought him a strange one. And there were two dark skinned men who didn't seem to be comfortable, but these are hardly menacing evils. "The worse thing that we can do now is to underestimate our foe." "One more caution, my love. I am almost sure that we have a shape-shifter to account for. I mean besides me, of course." And she giggled as she kissed me on the tip of my nose. (To be continued, if you are interested, of course!) Amusing Train Ride Ch. 06 "Everyone chases after happiness, not noticing that happiness is at their heels."— Bertolt Brecht This chapter is short on sexual escapades, but I have to set up other action to let the sex happen. Please be patient and you will be rewarded my gentle readers. * I placed the palms of my hands against my eye sockets, fingers over my forehead, thumbs aside my temples and rubbed. She was still standing in front of me in all of her adolescent beauty when I removed them. "Fear? Foes? Sha-sha-shapeshifter? Is this another "game" that we are to play? I need some breakfast; a substantial breakfast if we are to continue with our sex play at the same intensity as we have been!" I stammered as distracting images of lush, sucking vaginas that talked and creaking leather coats floated through my weary and sleep deprived brain. "Oh, my love, this is as child's play, which is of course the most serious play of all. You need to know more, but not now and not all at once. I sense the imminent presence of George approaching with hot towels and our notice of the opening of the dinning car. I want fruit and fish, and you?" "Oh my usual I suppose, eggs, bacon, grits, fried tomatoes, and potatoes washed down with Columbian." "What! Not tea?" "Really! What do you take me for, a Limey? I never drink hot tea before three in the afternoon. It just isn't civilized!" She laughed as George gently tapped on the door, "Mr. Richard? You asked for an early call? It is six now and the dinning car will open in half an hour. Would you want that I call you again at five 'til?" "No, George, this will be fine, but you may make up the berth and replenish the toiletries." "Yes sir. I'll have it done before you return from your breakfast." And he handed me four steaming, rolled towels on a platter atop four white fluffy bath towels. "Shave, sir?" he asked as he turned to leave. "No, George, but when you have a spare moment, you might freshen-press this suit that I was wearing last night and check it for stains first. I had a bit too much of the grape, I'm afraid." "Of course, sir." "And George, don't we have a stop for refueling, supplies, and water soon? I think near Ft Riley." "Yes sir, exactly as you say, sir. Should be in six hours and we are to stay there for one hour, forty-five minutes. Will you be seeing your friend, Col Hamilton?" "Would you be kind enough to telegraph ahead and give my very best to the Col and my profuse apologies for not keeping him abreast of my travel? If he extends an invitation to visit, accept and prepare to off load the horses and uncouple the car." "Consider it done, sir." The old soldier replied. "Might you be requiring my service as well on this excursion?" "Only if The Old Man requests for you, only if he requests," was my answer. "Please see me after you get an answer." George nodded and left headed up toward the front of the train. "What was that all about?" Mel wanted to know. "You can't leave the train now! You promised me that you were going to stay and help me! Now you are about to go off for weeks hunting and cavorting over the countryside chasing buffalo up and down arroyos and riding horses fit to brake your damn neck, not that I'd care if you did!"" "You are welcome to accompany me, in fact, I insist, assuming that your schedule allows. We can have a great time! There are some fabulous rides and a large buffalo herd from which to hunt. We can supply the meat to the next train in a week. And the officer's club there is first rate with a first class wine cellar. The chef was trained at the Greenbrier. He oversees his own vegetable and keeps his own spice garden. His pheasant under glass must be tasted to be believed. It is like ambrosia—fit for the gods." "I doubt that." She pouted. "I can't tell you more, but this is a bad idea, a very bad idea. No good can come of you blithering off the train at this time." Of the many times that I have taken this trip, I have always met interesting characters on the way to the dinning car. Of those times, it seems like going to breakfast brings out the most interesting of these characters. This morning was to be no different except in the range of strange that I confronted. I twisted open the door latch for my compartment and stood face to face with the tall, pale man that I had seen in the smoking car from the night before. A chill trickled down my spine. He had shed his long black leather duster in favor of a short embroidered waistcoat and matching vest with at flat brimmed creamed straw hat. Panamanian was my guess. "Hello there," I said with as much cheerfulness as I could muster. "Are you thinking of sampling the breakfast, too?" His gaze passed over and through me as if he didn't have strength to focus and certainly not to answer. Then as if he thought better of not speaking to me, he did reply after clearing his throat with a voice so deep that it seemed to roll up from the soles of his tall boots, "Despite my thin appearance, I often have a substantial breakfast. Would you and your companion care to join me today? I understand the salmon is particularly delicious this trip." "I can only speak for myself, but..." I began until Mel interrupted me. "Of course we would love to have a bite of breakfast with you, Mr. ah, Thantos, isn't it?" A tiny smile flitted at the corners of his pencil thin moustache. "Err, yes. Thantos. Dred Thantos." He extended his hand. His grip was firm, but I had never experienced a more fish-handed greeting. His cool and moist fingers were long and thin and immaculately cared for with trimmed nails and smooth cuticles. I suppressed a shudder at his touch. In his eyes were depths of sorrow that I couldn't imagine and sent a chill through me despite the promise of warmth from the dawning spring day. His grip was so odd that I found myself glancing down despite myself. When I did, I thought that I noticed a slight bulge above his wrist on the inside of his forearm. That would indicate nothing less than a Derringer pistol. "Beautiful day out, don't you think?" I asked him. "It has been for the start I'm sure," was his reply. He motioned for Mel to move past him down the corridor toward the dinning car. I followed her and he stepped into line behind me. We sat at my accustomed table near the window where I could watch the passing of the high plains that lie west of St. Louis. The tall prairie grass reached nearly to the train windows and stretched to the horizon unbroken save for the occasional copse of cottonwoods that poked out of the washes. Now and again a settler's cabin sat at the bottom of a thin trail of smoke that twisted skyward in the early morning calm. The light haze of the dust of a large herd of bison on the move left a smudge on the skyline. There weren't as many as in the past years when the herds numbered into the millions, now a large heard was a few thousand. I felt a cool touch through my sleeve and startled. Thantos had laid two long thin fingers on my forearm briefly. "Sorry, didn't intend to startle you, but are you ready to order now or shall we wait a few more minutes?" I looked away from the window. There stood one of the two waiters for the dinning car. Aaron, a tall, thin black man with oiled hair straightened and combed smoothed to fit against his skull. He sported a thin mustache. He carried himself lightly, but stood straight, weight on the balls of his feet. He did not write anything down for the kitchen. I chose Virginia honey cured ham with eggs and hash-browned potatoes, biscuits and gravy all washed down with a cup of hot black coffee. Our tall companion ordered a salmon steak, grits, and a lettuce salad, no dressing and water to drink. Mel asked for hot cereal and cream, and tea with cream and honey. "Hummm, you are digging your grave with your teeth, you know?" "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, but it is my business, correct?" I was beginning to become irritated with him and now I saw what George had meant as him "having an attitude." "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but I think that she or he must surely be a very lonely person who believes that no single other life will be made less by their passing." "Perhaps many other lives would be made better by their passing?" I retorted. "But that is not truly the choice of anyone, is it?" He replied. "Of course it is, when one's life ends and for what reasons is the essence of the purpose of life. How could there be a more personal decision?" I was bored with the conversation by now. "When the continuation of creativity is at stake might be one such moment." He smiled quietly. "Well my, my, my! I do declare I have never had such a deep conversation so early of a morning. If you gentlemen are finished with this partaking of nourishment of for our bodies, might it not be wise to move on with our plans for the day?" Chimed in our petite feminine firebrand. "Ah, yes, of course. And I believe that inspection of the horses was the next item on our list?" Thantos intoned as he placed his folded napkin onto the table by his plate. We trooped again back past my berth and through the passage way between the cars. These platforms were small but gave protection from the wind and weather as one passed through. We were on the second platform when I felt the brakes tighten and the train began to slow to a stop. I turned to my two fellow travelers and raised an eyebrow; both of them shrugged. I freed the door that opened to the steps leading down to the ground and I leaned out to peer toward the engine. I saw what had caused us to stop; over a thousand of the giant furry bison were milling about or streaming across in front of the engine. "Hey, look at this!" I said, pointing. Mel took one quick look and waved Thantos back to my berth. "What, what?" I was confused. Did she want to have sex in a buffalo herd? "Please, just go as quickly as you can, Dick!" We all three slipped into the space and, granted it was designed to accommodate two passengers; we were a mite crowded. I was surprised to find two of my rifles out of their cases and lying on the berth. There were other armaments on the other berth I started to ask for an explanation and was met with the information that the situation was critical. Mel gave me silver-jacked bullets for my derringer, pistol, and Drilling all of which were .44 cal. She insisted that I wear riding boots and slip a throwing stiletto into the top of each. I hung my Bowie knife under my coat on my left side and slipped the holster of the pistol onto my belt fastening the buckle under it so that it lies across my stomach within easy reach. As we went, she turned and reached out to lay a delicate hand to my cheek. Tears well up in her eyes; "Let me touch your face once more before we leave to remember you by. I want the feel of your stubbly beard, the wrinkles of your eyes, the curl of your locks fresh in my mind before we part. This mortal thing called love is so strange to me." I felt her fingertips brush my lips and smooth the sides of my moustache and float over my eyebrows as fleeting as the wash from a single butterfly wing beat. I opened my lips and she entered with her fingers. I bit down gently on her nails. She opened her eyes wide in mock terror and pulled back her hand to touch her own lips in a kiss, which she then returned to my mouth. "Let us keep this moment between us like a perfect pearl saved from the sea floor so that we might take it out at some later time and recall our love from now in it's glow." Going out the compartment door, I tucked a 'hawk under my belt behind my back as an afterthought. "Would one of you tell me where we are going and what we might find when we get there?" "Be ready for anything is all that I can be sure of telling you." Whispered Dred. ****** (I know that this chapter may disappoint some because of the absence of sexual situations, dear readers, but "things" are about to get interesting very quickly when (or if) this story is posted with a red "H". Your comments help and thank you for your suggestions so far; you are wonderful.) (To be continued) Amusing Train Ride Ch. 07 Chapter 7 Bullets for Breakfast; Swords for Lunch "Sexual intercourse is kicking death in the ass while singing." - Charles Bukowski * We arrived at the end of our Pullman car and paused before exiting onto the enclosed platform that separated it from the passenger car that was next in line. I noticed that Mel had remained in the sleeping compartment but gave the fact little thought, my attention being directed at our more immediate activity. Mel had given me silver-jacked bullets for my derringer, pistol, and Drilling all of which were .44 cal. She insisted that I wear riding boots and slip the long thin leaf-blade of a throwing stiletto into the top of each. I hung my Bowie knife under my coat on my left side and slipped the holster of the pistol onto my belt fastening the buckle under it so that it lay across my stomach. The butt of the huge pistol rode near my right hipbone, its muzzle nuzzling the left. "You by now have surely realized that either you are in a very strange dream or an equally strange reality. Either way, many events will come to pass in the immediate future, which will change much that you think and believe; far too many for me to guess, let alone explain and since each of these may be predicated on the other, I would have to alert you to thousands of possibilities." "But you know more than you are telling me!" I hissed back at him. "Infinitely, to be sure," again with the ambiguous smile, "but therein lies the conundrum, doesn't it?" "Fuck you!" "Perhaps," he grinned, for the first time showing teeth and a sparkle in his eyes, "but you must ask in a much nicer tone and at a more appropriate time." "Look my young friend, this is a train to Hades and it is your lot to play your role to see that it reaches its destination, in tact. To accomplish that considerable chore you will have to draw on all of your reserves of charm, skill, physical stamina, and plain puck. So loose your license-to-whine certificate and realize that this is a death-dealer's train that is out of control." We had been wending our way through the length of each of the cars on the train toward the rear. Dred listened at each door, for what I couldn't fathom. He wouldn't say. He was a strange fellow, indeed. He indicated by a motion, that I should precede him through the door. The only sound was the seemingly ever-present present wind of the prairie. After turning the latch, he jerked open the door and I stepped through, not knowing what to expect, but ready for anything, shotgun at the ready and feeling quite the dunce. I found myself standing on the small platform between the cars. This was an enclosed space that was the width of the train and about six feet long surrounded by the end rails of both cars. He opened the door that led from the inter-spatial area above the coupler of the train to the interior of the car. I would step onto that platform and open the door that led to the next car. After listening, he would kick the door open for me to leap through. After repeating this asinine behavior three or four times and finding no one, I wanted an explanation. Instead, my partner pointed behind us where to my amazement, I saw a huge bitch mastiff padding along. The beast had a quizzical look upon its face and the saddest eyes of any animal I could remember seeing in my life. The great beast sniffed the air at the door that led out of the passenger car in which we were standing. I felt an eerie tingling near my anus (not at all erotic), much more of the gallows than the bedroom, creeping up to my spine at the sight of this fierce animal, trained to fight and bred to kill, standing with the hair on it's neck bristled like a bottle brush. A low pitched and nearly silent rumble vibrated from its throat as it approached the door, legs stiff, every muscle ready to attack. Dred knelt and took the animal's muzzle in his long, cold hands and looked deeply into its eyes. "It is time. The abomination awaits." He opened the door into the space between the cars and I stepped through. As my foot hit the platform, I caught the scent of death and heard the sound of hooves on the hard surface of the interior of the next railcar. It was as if some great hoofed beast were pacing and stomping just on the other side of the door that I faced. My stomach had turned into ice and my throat was dry. I had a nearly irresistible urge to urinate. I felt as though pure fear was radiating through that door. Dred stepped beside me and gave me his little grin and added a wink for measure. "Keep moving." He said. Then he kicked in the door and I stepped through into the darkness of the interior. Now the stench of death washed over me in waves, threatening to over power me. I choked as nausea welled up into my throat filling my mouth with a bitter taste. I swallowed bile and waited for my eyes to adjust. "Keep moving." Dred yelled to me. I stepped my right and forward just as I saw movement in the far end of the car it was something big, big and fast. Carnivore? Grizzly? Maybe? I dodged to my left and lifted my rifle to my shoulder. It raised its arm and hurled something at me. "Nope, not a griz," I recall thinking just as the glint of light streaming through a crack in the side of the car glinted off the smooth, wicked looking spear point. A spear point headed directly at me! Spear was hurled with such force that when it struck me in my midsection, I was lifted from the deck and carried backward for several feet. I owed my survival to the fact that one of Mr. Colt's finest Walker pistols had been in its path and caught the point. I had no time to reflect on the philosophical irony of the situation because with a roar, the monster commenced its charge at me. I was in no position to protect myself. I was being swept by successive waves of nausea caused by the crushing compression of my diaphragm when it absorbed the force of the spear. I was spewing my breakfast out onto my front. I lifted the spear and pointed the heavy, blunt, butt end at the monster's chest while at the same time digging the razor bronze point into the oak deck planks. Up on contact, the horror's momentum caused the shaft to shatter and the sharp spine penetrated the center of its chest until it protruded from its back. It continued to reach for me and swung its massive horned head to and fro attempting to impale me on its horns. Its actions imbedded the spear point deeper into the floor. Scrambling, I managed to retrieve the shotgun from the corner where it had stopped skidding over the deck. I cocked the hammer just as the barrel-chested beast backed off the broken end of the spear and looked at me, shaking it's deformed head. It bellowed and turned away from me to walk to the far end of the car where it turned again. I realized that it was preparing to charge! Was it immortal? Bright red gushed from the hole in its chest spattering the deck a crimson wash. My nostrils filled with the sickening stench of fresh blood. It lowered its head and again bellowed, scraping the floor with its hoof, searching for purchase. Suddenly it found a solid sticking place and lunged toward me, a bloody froth spewing from its nose and mouth. I imagined what a matador must feel like as the full two thousand pounds weight of the beast roared by me when I turned and stepped aside to let it pass, its horns missing my face by the thickness of a shadow. It skidded to a stop just before crashing into the far end wall of the car. My face felt sticky-slick. I whipped my forehead and eyes, glanced at my hand to see smears of bloody foam. I knew that I might bring it down as I had the Cape Buffalo who's head hung on my den wall, with one very fortunate shot. I also know that I might not and that might be catastrophic. What else to do? This beast had hands! And then I saw why it had sparred me so willingly. From the far wall it had plucked two weapons, a shield and a sword. "Can we talk this over before you kill me?" The creature stopped cold. A deep rolling laugh rumbled up from its great chest. A combination of the laugh and the wound with the internal bleeding must have caused it to choke because it gagged and fell to its knees, dropping the thick round shield until the edge rested on the deck boards. Slowly the tip of the mighty sword dipped until it too rested on the floor. A new flow of blood and froth poured from the wounds and from its nose and mouth. It coughed, spattering me with flecks of bloody bubbles. "Would you stop that?" I admonished. "Now I can still kill you or do you damage, but why? Except for scaring the bijous out of me and trying to skewer with that monstrous toad sticker that you hurt yourself with, I have no beef (pun intended) with you. Who put you up to this anyway?" "You poor human fool; think of what you know of me! I am Minotaur; the product of the unnatural union of a human woman and a sacred bull." "My diet is of human flesh, even more so than yours does of beef. We are mutual enemies I must kill you to survive. Every so often I require food and that food is the tender, young flesh of human girls or boys. I stalk them until I find them, catch them, and toy with them, abuse them and then, eat them, sometimes alive. It's really simple, no?" " I have rested enough, now you die, and I feed, although you are going to be tough old piece of meat! But you know; I'm horny and want your ass, around my dick while you are dying, even with old farts like you make me feel good that way! The little ones scream, but I'm sure you will do fine!" It stood again and raised its shield and sword. I shot it between its eyes with the rifle. The .44 cal slug made the sound of a gourd being smashed with a sledgehammer. It staggered backward and shook its mighty head while swinging the sword blade in a figure eight toward me. It coughed again and began to advance one unstable step at a time. I had no time to reload, but I had two barrels full of shot. I blew its eyes out. It bellowed and charged in my direction, but I had leaped to the left and rolled managing to come up with my hawk in hand. It had stumbled and was on its knees, ears searching for me or any sound of my being. I threw the hawk across the railcar to have it lodge in the doorframe. It turned to the sound of the hawk and I cut its throat from behind with my Bowie knife. Then I plunged the 14-inch blade down through its back and into its heart. It slowly toppled forward to crash down onto the deck, twitching as it died. Dred was standing over it when I turned from retrieving my hawk. He placed his fingers on its throat and again on its wrist, before he looked up at me. "What was that that you were singing?" He asked. "Singing? Was I singing?" I asked. All that said he was, "It's dead." I cut off its head with my fighting knife. "Where the fuck were you, because you sure weren't covering my back?" "Now I had no idea that this was the abomination that you were going to find in here, but you can see why I hesitated to tell you?" "I am not at all understanding of your behavior! You knew this horror was here and you didn't warn me! And where were you when I was fighting for my life here? And just who the hell are you anyway?" "We will meet other dangers before we are finished with the train. What I cannot say which or when because I don't know. You are here for a reason, as am I." I gave up on that line of questioning and chose to pursue a slightly different course. "Is that thing really what it said it was? That is not possible!" "Then you very skillfully destroyed an impossible creature." "Oh now, really old chum, artificial insemination or bestiality with a bull and a woman, even if possible, will not result in a living, viable monster like this," and I nudged the now stiffening carcass with my toe. "We have other work to do now, and don't worry about me covering your back should the need arise, I'll be there for you." "But a bull copulating with a woman is a bit much to accept." You haven't been to Tijuana to see the fuck shows there, have you?" "Actually I have been to Tijuana and yes I saw the posters advertising "Women and donkeys and dogs", but I doubted that too. Still, a bull is so much bigger than a woman." "I'll tell you the whole sorted story some day, but as I have said, we have much to do and little time to do it in." He placed his fingers into his mouth and whistled a piercing blast. A moment later Mel strode into the car dressed for combat. "Nice to see that you could make it," he greeted her with more than a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "Now boys, let's be nice." The brakemen must have herded the buffalo from the tracks because the train lurched and began moving slowly forward again. "Ok, what's next on our little madcap tiptoe through this nightmare?" I asked because I knew that this was a hallucination or a vivid dream, I couldn't be reality and the trickery was too smooth for prestidigitations. "How are you feeling? That javelin thrust to the gut should have pinned you to the floor, but you handled yourself very well and recovered nicely afterward. How did you manage that, by the way?" "Just lucky, it hit Mr. Walker." "Ah ha, lucky indeed." "So what might be in this next car?" "Rumor was flesh eating horses, but I don't think so, shall we go in together? Or I could climb up and drop in through the vent port in the roof? Your call." I at him and then I pointed up. He nodded and swung up the ladder to the roof of the rail car. I checked my weapons once more and this time slipped quietly into the car. This car had three compartments on each side and an open isle running its length. Unlike the last car, this was rather pleasant. It was quite dimly lit and had a smoky or foggy atmosphere. A small brazier sat at the transept of the distant end and from it poured a thick blue fragrant smoke. Standing around the brazier were several stone statues in different poses, most seemed to be handsome young men. I reminded myself that this dream was Greek themed and many of the spas and bathhouses that I had frequented were decorated in such a motif. Then I became aware of the music. It was a thin willowy tune in the upper register played on a reed whistle or on panpipes. Under this was a sound reminiscent of the quiet hiss of snakes and the scraping noise of scales on the deck. I felt the hair on my scalp tingle and rise up when I saw the shadow of a hooded figure on the wall behind the flickering with the flames from the guttering torches near the brazier. It moved as if floating instead of walking. It turned and looked my way and I was overcome with a deep sadness and longing for company. I felt my self being relieved of all power over my own form and my feet began to take one halting, shuffling step after another toward this new menace. I began to feel an excitement in my groin, my penis became erect almost instantly and was much more turgid than ever before. As this stiffness grew, I began to become numb and heavy like a great weight hung where my proud penis had once been! Still I couldn't stop! As I passed the center of the car, I looked up for my friends to drop from the ventilation cupola but not only was there no evidence of them, I thought that I saw dozens of large snakes. Sure enough, unfolding and dropping from their hiding place above me, were several young women. Before I could do more than attempt a single useless shot, they were all over me and had removed my coat and shirt. They found all my weapons and then kissed and licked my body all over. I began to wonder if maybe I had misunderstood the danger. Then the game got seriously hard. They pinned my arms to the floor, spread-eagled, face up by driving my two stilettos, one through each of my forearms just above my wrists. Then one cut my belt and pulled my pants down to my ankles before she slashed through them at the crotch. I kicked at her face and had the short-lived satisfaction of feeling my boot heel connect with her nose with a sickening crunching sound as her nose collapsed into her face. "Ohh, you son of a mutant human pig! You will pay for that! I'll have you balls for beads, you son of Zeus! Have you any idea how long this will take to heal? You think I can just pop out a new nose, fucker?" Her voice had the congested quality of a person who has a bad case of adenoids. The two who were standing on my arms caught my feet, but one was leaning far enough forward to be off balance that I could swing her forward and send her sprawling. At this point, the one holding my foot and knee knelt on one knee by my head. I tried to kick her in the head and to sink my teeth into her thigh to hamstring her. She was too quick. She first secured my free leg by slipping her elbow through behind my knee, she methodically pounded on my face with her fist, hitting my eyes, nose, and jaw, with enough force that I could not stop my head from bouncing off the hard oaken floor of the railcar. Waves of darkness washed over me and I blessedly passed out. The respite was not long and I awoke thinking that I was drowning. They were pouring a steady stream of water into my nose and mouth. My eyes were swollen shut, but I felt my legs and feet had been spread wide, pulled over my head, and held to the floor. My buttocks were bear and when I had began gagging from the water in my windpipe, I heard a sweet soprano voice say in Ancient Greek something to the effect that "He is coming around." A moment passed and my ass felt pain like never before. I first thought I was being branded, but then I heard the "swish" of the whips just before the pain. I screamed or at least I tried to, but my mouth was stuffed with a filthy rag and held in with a gag that worked like a surgeon's mask. I lost count after five more and lost consensus soon after, but I awakened drowning again. Whipped and drowned, whipped and drown until I would have begged them to just kill me. They didn't even ask me any questions. Finally I heard the soprano voice say that she wanted to have the first go now that I was softened up sufficiently. My wrists ached horribly. My ass was afire and my feet and legs were numb. I suspected that my neck was broken. What more can they do, I wondered? Much, as it turned out. I felt a cool sensation under my balls and realized that one of them was moving an ice cube or blunt icicle around on my pudendum a very cold hand lightly gripped my scrotum and pulled my testicles out away from my body, stretching them to the max. "Oh God! Here comes castration!" I thought, but I was wrong, at least for the moment. The ice moved upward over my limp dick to the head where it circled around the head until I was shriveled and numb. "Ah, what a lovely little whinny whinie. How boyish it is, so adolescent, so ripe for the plucking. I can't resist. Relax little one, you will love this part." With that she savagely jammed the dull ice rod into my asshole. Shivers coursed through my frame. She stroked my cock with one hand while she twisted and levered the inch thick finger of ice around eight inches inside my rectum. I whimpered every time she passed it over my prostate gland and I felt the surge of pressure. My ass was freezing numb. When the ice became small, she would snap it off and replace it with her finger before she would begin with another piece. Water ran down my butt crack and pooled on the floor under my lower back and up my under my spine. I managed to open an eye enough to see her. At first I thought that it was Mel, but with black hair that seemed to be in constant motion. I almost spoke to her, but I couldn't hold my head up any longer, but my cock seemed to have a mind of its own. It slowly began to enlarge and as it grew, it became more rigid. I was as hard and smooth as marble. She had been squatting with one hand in my ass, her other in her pussy. She appeared to be frigging herself with the hand on her pussy. She had begun with one finger and over a short time, she pushed in another and then another until she had four fingers in to their last knuckle. As she pushed her hand into her cunt, she also shoved her other hand into my asshole. I was stretched to the max; my ass seemed to scream in protest. Amusing Train Ride Ch. 07 "Now then, enough foreplay you little slut," she bellowed at me. "Time for the real deal!" I tried to open my eyes again and she roared at my attempt, "Don't look at me, bitch!" She was fiddling with something near her waist, but I couldn't see well enough to see what she was doing. I finally managed to open one eye again enough to see her waist down to my navel. She was adjusting a huge dildo, a double dildo it appeared with her half already inserted and the straps buckled to her hips. She was coating the other end, my end, with some sort of lubricant. I relaxed not defeated, but waiting for an opportunity to present itself that I might use to my advantage. She was fairly gentle with the next step, working the end against my abused sphincter until she had spread me open enough to "pop" the head into my ass. She rode me for what seemed an eternity before she orgasmed and slid back and out. Then she exchanged the heads and shafts of the dildos for larger ones and went at it again. This procedure was repeated three times more. I was numb around my asshole and my once proud staff of manhood was shriveled from the repeated lashings received each time it became hard and stone like. "I said don't look at me, slut!" She drew me to her by pulling on my scrotum, but even with my wrists "nailed to the deck of the car and her grip on my testicles, I still was sliding away from her. Frustration crept into her voice. "Look you little slime, you are doomed anyway. Quit trying to escape and I will make your end quick! Keep this resistance up and you will learn what suffering really can be to the human body." My shoulder blades were being pushed down from the weight of the two women holding my feet and legs. My arms and wrists were aching and numb from the pressure against them from her thrusting. Between the strain of the knives in my wrists and my torso pushing against my shoulders, I felt that I was coming apart. At last she realized and instructed that I be held by my shoulders to prevent all of the strain from being taken by my arms and shoulders and wrists. To keep me from sliding up from the thrusts of fucking in my asshole with the largest dildo yet, she calls out a name that sounds like a bleating goat trying to hiss-speak to a snake. I hear the sound of hooves on the deck and smell the pungent scent of goat overwhelmingly strong wafting down to envelop my head. I manage to twist my head from side to side and I rubbed against a warm, furry, well-muscled leg—a goat's leg! But it was the biggest goat that I could have imagined. Looking up was a struggle, but I managed to see a strange goat-like face, pointed ears, and short horns. The monster knelt at my head and braced my shoulders with its bulk. This put its genitals against my face. I was nearly overcome with the strong scent of musk. Still she continued to hammer at my ass. By holding my shoulders and supporting my body against her pounding, the monster actually helped to make my ordeal less painful. After a bit the satyr began to idly stroke its cock and scratch its balls. All the while I am getting repeatedly butt fucked. It then rubs the head of its large phallus around over my nose and lips. Finally, it pulls apart my lips and tries to force the head between my clenched teeth. When I refuse to cooperate, it open-handedly slaps me three times across my face and repeats its efforts. This continues until the beast keeps stroking itself and shortly thereafter, spews semen over my face. I try to relax but it chuckles and levers open my jaw from my neck, then places the tip of its dick into my mouth moving it in and out, it fucks my face. I gag when it becomes excited and forces me to suck the entire length into my throat. This goes on until I feel its dick become huge and stiff and just before more juice shoots into my mouth than I can possibly swallow, the beast trembles and throws its head back in a loud laughing, bellowing, bleat. As I am about to drown, it pulls out and again shoots a half-a-cup of rich semen over my chest and face. Then as if in an afterthought, it farted. "Oh, but the Gods human, you are good! Was it as good for you, too? You are the first man that I have done! I may never go back!" Then it looked up toward my ass. "How much longer are you going to pork his ass, Meddy? He won't shit for a month as it is now and his hands will be useless for a week. Have you gotten off, yet?" "OK, Ok, cut him loose and toss him from the train, but brake one of his legs first, I don't want him to be able to walk after us." I felt the daggers ripped from my wrists, the pain shot up my arms into my armpits. My arms and hands were useless weights. Cum was caked into my hair and on my face. My eyes were swollen shut; my lips and face were bruised. I had been violated. Abused. Mutilated. I tried to sit up with little success. I managed to turn my head to my side before I vomited. "Well, well, well, can anyone join this party or are reservations required? Now don't do that, just step away from the boy and no one dies." I heard a swishing sound and a thud. "Damn! I hate it when they do that!" A deep contralto growled. I heard the neigh of a horse, hoofs prance, and wings flap. At this I felt both legs turned loose and the satyr stepped back from where it had been kneeling. My legs flopped back down and I assumed the cruciform position, every part of my body ached. I got myself onto my stomach, but couldn't quite get onto my knees. I tried to push my shoulders up, but was too weak. Into my limited field of vision came a blurred image of a female sandal clad foot—size 14. A hand and arm like a derrick gripped my arm above the elbow and hauled me up to my feet. I collapsed like a sack of beans. "Oh, alright, I'll carry you little twerp," and I had the impression of being lifted by a huge woman, easily 300 pounds and well in excess of seven and a half feet in height. As my stomach did flip-flops, I mercifully drifted back into the darkness.