****** YMCA by Trainman ******
===============================================================================

YMCA


I've had a fascination with trains and train travel ever since I was a
youngster. In my youth, long-distance trains were in their heyday, and every
day you could see the multi-colored streamliners rushing from depot to depot
with their human cargo.

As a boy, I rode on several. And I used to sneak away from the house on a
Saturday sometimes and climb aboard the electric interurban that ran from
downtown Chicago to Milwaukee. I loved to stand in the front of the car,
watching the scenery as the heavy old steel cars traveled at 90 mph, making the
trip in less than 90 minutes, a feat not to be matched these days.

A little later on, when I was about 16 or so, I had discovered certain things
about my nature that dovetailed quite nicely with these clandestine train
rides. Saying that I was staying over with a friend gave me the opportunity to
hop the train to Milwaukee and then to stay at the Milwaukee YMCA for a night.
I had discovered by accident that the Y was often the place to be for the
action that I craved. I could have found the same action in Chicago, of course,
but I didn't know that then, and I preferred to be far enough away from home to
play safely.

One day in the early 1950s, those innocent days of the early Eisenhower era, I
decided to take such a trip. Carefully crafting my excuse and receiving a quick
approval, I left the house in the afternoon and made my way to the "El"
station. I would take the "el" downtown to the Loop, where the North Shore
trains could be boarded. I could have gone to the other end of the line, at
Howard Street, and boarded there, but I wanted to do the entire trip on the
North Shore, so downtown it was.

In those days, one of the main stops along the way was the Great Lakes Naval
Training Center, and so the train was always filled with sailors and recruits.
By this time I had abandoned my station in the front car, facing forward, to
sit near the center, facing as many of those young men as I could. I had all
kinds of fantasies about what I would do with them, and some of them even came
true (but that's another story). Most, of course, got off at Great Lakes, so
that gave me 40 minutes or so to think about the pleasures that awaited.

I had timed my arrival so that it was dark when I got to Milwaukee, and walked
the short distance from the train depot to the Y. I'm not quite sure how they
worked things in those days, but I never had to provide any ID when I checked
in there, not since the very first time. I could have been 12 years old or 20
and they wouldn't know. Maybe it was an early form of "don't ask, don't tell."
This time I had the same check-in dude as my last visit, so I registered, paid
the one night advance (was it $7?) and a $2 key deposit, went upstairs and
settled in. They were tiny rooms, of course; single beds and a small bureau of
drawers, a miniscule closet and a couple of hooks on the walls. One picture, a
nondescript landscape, adorned the otherwise bare walls. Well, you weren't at
the Y for luxury, after all.

The bathroom and shower were down the hall, and part of the excitement of a
trip to the Y back then was walking down the hallway, clad only in your towel,
and checking out the rooms as you went by. Many of the occupants would leave
their doors open, or slightly ajar, and you could stop by and check out the
action inside. Often you'd find men of all ages displaying themselves in
various nude postures on their beds, sometimes actively engaged in masturbation
or other kinds of self-abuse. If you stood at the door long enough and made
your presence felt, there was often an invitation to enter.

I preferred the group setting of the shower, though, and continued on down the
hall. Sometimes nothing was happening on your floor, and you would sneak down
or up a flight of stairs to the next floor and check it out. On this occasion I
didn't have to go elsewhere, since there were five or six guys already in the
shower room and several others hanging about.

The shower room, an open area with several faucets and controls all around the
perimeter, was warm and steamy as I entered. In those days, you didn't look
directly at other guys (or at least I didn't), so you had to check them out
with furtive glances and peripheral vision. As I entered, I removed my towel,
and my semi-hard uncut pride and joy flopped about enticingly.

At 16, I already had my adult quota of 81/2 inches. It was pretty thick, too, 7
inches around, and when I was semi-hard as then, the foreskin covered only
about half the fat head. I always had a big cock. Even at 12, I remember, when
I discovered my sexual nature and the fun I could have with my body, I already
had more than 6 inches, and it was growing about an inch every year. I quickly
became known in grammar school as "Big Jim," a nickname I retained now in high
school. It wasn't because of my stature, although I was 6 feet tall by then and
weighed almost 180 pounds, but because of that lovely big thing between my
legs. Sadly, though, it stopped growing somewhere between my 14th and 15th
birthdays, and even though I wished for more, everybody else seemed impressed.

When soft, my dick was normally about 4-5 inches long, which was clearly a
little above average. But one of the best things about it was the ability I had
to display myself at will and for long periods of time in what I called a "soft
on," a state of semi-arousal in which the old tool was thick and full and
almost as long as it got when completely aroused, yet floppy and malleable so
everybody thought it was still soft. You could tell they wondered at the
enormous size it would grow to. I guess I disappointed a lot of people with
that trick, now that I think of it. I mean, when you see an 8-inch soft cock,
you expect it to be a monster, right? Mine never grew more than another half
inch or so when it was in that condition, but it did get hard and stood proudly
out in front of me when fully aroused.

So, the thing about the showers at the Y: you actually had to take one. Back in
those days people would have been shocked if you came into the room just to
check out the other guys, and, besides that, nobody who stayed at the Y was
homosexual, for God's sake. In the 50s, everybody I know was in the closet, and
I was no exception. So I dutifully soaped up and carefully washed every part of
my youthful body.

Of course, in the process, one could turn around and see very clearly what else
the room had to offer. One such prize was a young man of about 18 or so, an
American Indian from the look of him, with long black hair cascading around his
shoulders. That, believe me, was a sight to see back then! He had a lovely
uncut dick, too, and he took some time in cleaning it carefully, skinning back
the foreskin and paying close attention to hygiene.

There were two gentlemen in their 20s there, one with blond hair and a lovely
body, the other dark and hirsute, nicely built and with a heavy hang. Another
guy was a paunchy older fellow, perhaps in his 40s, with lots of hair and a
small but thick cock. There was an old guy, too, in his 60s, from the look of
him. As I turned back to the shower, I saw another guy enter, a 30-something
number who went to the faucet right next to me.

Being the youngest in the room, I figured I might be the focus of interest, and
I took full advantage of the status. I soaped up carefully, rinsing and
caressing those parts of my body that called attention to my charms. Many times
as an adult I've asked myself if the kid I was cruising at the time had any
idea how beautiful he was; I can almost guarantee he was very aware, and used
his charms to the fullest. At least I did, and I was doing so in that shower. I
turned and preened, making sure everybody could see everything I had to offer,
what a nice ass I had, and how big my cock was. I even flopped it about a
little, stretching it out and displaying it to all.

I was delighted to note that they were all staring at me, and I made eye
contact with the Indian kid and the two young guys. The guy who just came in
was cute, too, and I smiled at him when he turned toward me, his dick obviously
on its way to a boner.

And instantly, the shower room became something else entirely. Not only was the
guy next to me getting hard, so was everybody else. The Indian kid had at least
8 inches and it was sticking out, now, the foreskin behind the large, angry-
looking head. The blond 20ish guy was playing with his dick, and the dark
haired guy turned his ass to me and started fingering it, while clearly jerking
on his dick. The old fart, too, was trying to get into the spirit of it, and
the 40-year-old was drooling off in the corner, dick hard and quite a bit
bigger than when I first looked.

The guy next to me moved closer. I could see his dick now, hard and long, out
of the corner of my eye, and then he just reached out and grabbed for mine,
which, by now, was also completely hard. This seemed to be the signal for the
others. The blonde and the dark-haired guy turned to each other, the blond
taking the other into his arms and kissing him on the lips. The Indian kid was
shocked, I could see, and perhaps a little upset that he hadn't got to me
first. He held back a bit and then I saw him mouth a word or words to me. I
didn't know what he said, but he turned and left, disappointing me more than I
could say.

However, at the time I was busy, my friend next to me having knelt down and
taken me into his mouth. The 40-year-old came over and I let him run his hands
over my chest and around my face, while the old guy was furiously pounding his
pud. I had to admit that the hairy guy, who was now playing with my tits, was
kind of sexy, with all that hair and that cute little paunch. His dick was
about 7 inches and very thick, thicker than mine, with an enormous red head
that looked about to spurt. He leaned toward me, and I let him kiss me, his
scratchy beard almost cutting up my smooth mouth and face.

I took his cock in my hand and started jerking on it. The guy between my legs
was an expert cocksucker and soon had me going. Then the old guy came around
back of me and slowly knelt down. Soon his tongue was in my ass, licking for
all he was worth. The blond and the dark one, having a passionate meeting in
the middle of the room, drew closer to the four of us. If anybody had come into
the shower at that moment, I think he would have found it impossible to say who
was doing whom at the moment.

I knelt down and took the blonde's cock in my mouth, and then the dark-haired
one. He turned around, presenting his hairy and sexy ass to my eyes, and I dove
in between his asscheeks. God! I loved to suck asshole!! I alternated between
the blonde's cock and the dark-haired guy's asshole, while they were taking
turns with the 40-year-old. My fellatio partner was true to me, however, and
was slurping my hang all the way down. I knew it would only be a matter of
seconds before I would cum at that rate, so I backed up a bit, pulling out of
his mouth.

In doing so, I must have knocked down the old man behind me, because he laughed
and when I turned I found him sitting on the floor with a generous hardon and a
big grin on his face. I pulled him up, took a swipe at his dick with my tongue,
and let my hands rub over his body, which was in pretty good shape for an old
guy. I smiled at him, and-with all the arrogance of a 16-year-old-thought about
how he'd remember the day this beautiful young boy sucked his dick and caressed
him.

By the time I turned back to my group, they were all heavily involved with each
other. The dark-haired guy was fucking the 40-year-old, and my cocksucker now
had the blonde's equipment ramming down his throat. Not to be discouraged, I
entered into that twosome by approaching the blonde and licking his tits and
working my way up to his luscious lips. We kissed, passionately, and he wet his
fingers and put them in my ears, a move I found so sensuous and provocative I
almost came.

I heard a groan from the 40-year-old and turned just in time to see him lose
his load, spurting at least eight feet across the room while the dark-haired
guy continued to fuck for all he was worth. This was back in the pre-AIDS days,
so nobody thought anything about condoms. The guy sucking the blonde's cock
finally came up for air, and I went down on him for a while, as he took my
place in the blonde's face.

The dark-haired young man who was fucking the 40-year-old popped his load next.
It was obvious from the look of pain and delight on his face and the vigorous
reaction from the 40-year-old. Since this wasn't a porno movie, you shot your
load into your partner's asshole or mouth, whatever the case might be, and
that, obviously, is what happened here. I turned in time to see the old man
lose his load, jerking himself off while playing with the blonde's asshole.

We soon lost our loads, too, the three of us who were left, and the orgy room
turned back into a shower at the Y. We cleaned ourselves up and, one by one,
left to towel off and return to our accommodations, such as they were. I wanted
to get it on again, but not with anybody here. I was going looking for the
Indian boy.


Comments? Trainman4835@aol.com

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