Message-ID: <4506eli$9710021140@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: dafydds@hotmail.com (Dafydd) Subject: My private train car [MF, rom] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <34340453.738804@news.detroit.mi.ameritech.net> This is a work of fiction depicting multiple acts of sexual intercourse between consenting adults. The kinkiest thing in here is oral sex (which seems to still be illegal in a few backward, repressed states of the U.S. and some other nations). If you are offended by such fictional depictions, or if you are not old enough to read such, or if you are in a repressive society where reading such is illegal, then PLEASE DON'T. If you will be offended and you go ahead and read it anyway and get offended, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT. This story is completely the product of my own imagination; no real person, living or otherwise, is depicted herein. If there is any similarity between this story and your life, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THAT EITHER. (Well, actually, I do want to hear about it, but in the form of fond recollection from you, not a summons from your lawyer.) Needless to say, this story also takes place in a world where there is no need to worry about sexually transmitted diseases, including AIDS. About my copyright: feel free to keep this for your personal use. If you wish to post it to a web site, please ask me first at dafydds@hotmail.com About the story: About a year and a holf ago, I got into a kick of writing erotic stories. First I just did it for my personal pleasure, then I thought I might be able to supplement my meager income a bit by writing "letters" for magazines. Then I kind of lost interest. The last couple of months reading a.s.s.m has rekindled my interest, so I dug up this one and polished it a bit. It's the sixth one I wrote. If the response to this one is favorable, I might post a few more. (I also started a story collection with the Star Trek [TM] universe loosely tying them together, but it only got as far as a prologue and two chapters.) This is probably also the most romantic one I wrote, although there is another one that's close to it. Polite comments are welcome at dafydds@hotmail.com Dafydd BTW: while the narrator's method of acquiring his wealth is pure fantasy, the lifestyle depicted here is certainly within the realm of reality, although no individual is the basis for this story. AFAIK, Silver Planet is still in Mexico. My private train car by Dafydd Copyright 1997 by Dafydd I was walking through Amtrak's waiting room for coach passengers at Union Station in Chicago when I first saw her. There wasn't anything really special about her that caught my eye. Her blond shoulder-length hair was mostly covered by a knit cap, her breasts were totally obscured by her heavy jacket, her hips hidden by the newspaper that stuck up from her lap. Her face wasn't that of a supermodel, either, but there was just something about it that made me want to make love to her for hours. I sat one seat away from her and politely asked if she were through with the rest of the paper, piled on the seat between us. She locked eyes with me for a moment, then said to help myself. I shuffled the sports section to the bottom of the stack, then looked through the rest for something interesting, glancing up at her every few seconds. Once, I saw her looking at me with mild curiosity; when our eyes met again, she smiled briefly, and quickly turned the page to Dear Abby. I picked up the business section and started to read an article about something that looked interesting but wasn't. I kept glancing at her, though, and finally she put down Abby and looked at her watch. I took the opportunity to ask her where she was going. "Havre," she answered with a sigh and a friendly but tired smile. Wonderful, I thought, that means she's riding the Empire Builder like I am. She kept talking, apparently glad to have some company. "I lost my job here in Chicago and couldn't find another one, so I'm going home to live with my family for a while. Not that I want to. It's such a nothing town, stuck in the middle of nowhere." She sighed again. "So, where are you going?" I moved the newspaper to another seat and shifted myself next to her. "Portland," I said. "A railfan group out there wants to lease my car next weekend." She looked totally confused, so I explained. "I have a private car on the end of the train, an observation car from the old California Zephyr, named Silver Planet." Now she looked skeptical. "Really. I brought it back to the States from Mexico a couple years ago and totally restored it. Cost me almost a million bucks. It even has a dome." She still didn't seem to believe me, so I offered to show it to her. She looked in my eyes again and agreed. "By the way," I said, "my name's Steve." "I'm Julie," she said, standing. I also stood and helped her pick up her belongings, then led her out onto the station concourse. An attendant at the platform gate tried to stop us, but I told her who I was and she let us through. It wasn't far to the rear end of the train, where I had left the stairway open on my gleaming stainless steel railcar. I helped Julie up the stairs first, then came up after her and closed the stairway and the outside door. I produced a key and opened the door into the car itself. Leading Julie inside, I put her belongings on a shelf and hung her jacket. Then I started the tour. "Originally, there were five bedrooms here, but I made one into an office and two others into storage rooms. I kept one bedroom for visitors and the biggest one for myself. Would you like to see it?" I asked, my hand on the doorknob and a disarming smile on my face. "Maybe later," she said with a hint of a smile of her own. I led her down the stairs to the aisle under the dome and into the dining area. "I made this as close to original as I could, except in the kitchen. It has all modern appliances, but with a vintage Forties look. Drink?" I asked, stepping behind the bar and pulling out a bottle of Vodka and two glasses. "Scotch and soda," she said, sitting at the table. I poured the drinks and left the bottles out, then joined her. "So tell me again why you're going to Portland." "Well, it costs a lot of money to keep a car this old operating, and I'm not that rich, so I lease it out to groups of railfans around the country to run on their excursion trains, and to people who want to travel in style. I don't get much business in the winter, but next weekend the group in Portland is running a trip behind a steam engine, and they want all the dome cars they can get. I go with the car to make sure nothing happens to it, and to fix things that break." "It sounds like fun. I wish I had something so interesting to do with my life," said Julie. We both finished our drinks and I stood to refill them. Just as I turned back, the train started up with a lurch and I spilled both drinks right in Julie's lap. "Shit," I said, putting the empty glasses down and helping her stand. She peeled off her slacks, revealing black tights underneath jogging shorts. "Don't worry," I said, taking her dripping slacks, "I've got a washer and drier, too." Some of the alcohol had also hit her sweater, so she removed that as well. Her medium sized breasts were encased in a large but tight white tube top. I stared at them for a moment, then took the sweater and left. When I returned, Julie was on the floor, wiping up the mess with paper towels. Her ass was pointed straight at me and there was a wet spot in the crotch of her shorts, presumably from the spilled drinks. I took the paper towels and put them in the garbage, saying "Don't worry, they'll clean the car before the steam trips." I helped Julie to her feet, and we looked at each other awkwardly for a few seconds. "How about that drink?" Julie finally asked. I looked out the window; we were just passing the last major rail junction where we were likely to be thrown around. I poured the drinks and carefully handed Julie hers. We each knocked back about half the glass. "So, would you like to see the rest of the car?" I asked. Julie smiled and nodded, and I led her into the aisle again, then stood against the wall to let her go first. As she squeezed past me, I said "Sorry the aisle's so narrow, but a train car's only so big." "It is kind of tight," she agreed, "but I'm sure its big enough." I thought I heard a little extra emphasis on "tight" and "big," and looked in her eyes. They were cloudy blue, but had a special gleam in them. She smiled again. Climbing into the observation lounge at the back of the car, I turned on the lights and pointed out the artwork on the walls. "I couldn't find the originals, so I commissioned a painter to recreate them from photographs." "Nice," she said, looking around the room. Dimming the lights again, I pointed up another set of stairs. "And this is the dome." Julie went up slowly, looking out at the city, which was rapidly falling into darkness. "Wow," she said, "the view is great from here." "It certainly is," I agreed. On the steps behind her, my face was only inches from Julie's butt. She looked down at me and giggled, then walked forward. The dome had one table on each side of the center aisle, then three rows of coach seats. A custom made sofa was wrapped around the front end. Julie sat on the sofa and looked back at the receding Chicago skyline. "I kind of hate to leave Chicago," she said, sipping her drink. "It has some great restaurants." "I know," I replied. "I always pick up a few frozen pizzas from Uno's when I go through. You like pepperoni?" Julie wrinkled her cute nose and shook her head. "Good, neither do I. How about a sausage and spinach deep dish?" "Wonderful," she said with another smile. I disappeared down the stairs and put the pizza in the oven. When I returned with the bottles to refresh our drinks, Julie was sitting in the same place, but her tights were no longer under her shorts and I caught a glimpse of blond hair through the leg hole. She had also adjusted her tube top so that her breasts bounced and swayed gently as the car rocked. I filled the glasses again and sat next to her, and we traded condensed life stories. She had left Havre at 18 to attend the University of Chicago. After graduating she had taken a job nearby, but the company had just folded. Two weeks of sending out resumes hadn't gotten her one phone call, so, now 29, she had packed everything up and shipped it to Havre, where she would live with her parents and younger brother and sister. Her older sister was married and lived next door. I'm 32 and had never made much of myself. I had a low-paying job that just barely paid the bills and nothing more. Then at 27, I won the Illinois lottery's Win For Life game, which gave me a guaranteed income of $2,000 a week for the rest of my life. That's not a whole lot of money, but I spent a lot of years living on the cheap, so I kept doing it and socked away two thirds of the money each year. When I had a quarter million, I formed a holding company and bought the Silver Planet, paying for the restoration with business loans. I live in New Orleans now, mainly to keep the car out of the harsh winter weather. The car manages to pay for itself, and the state of Illinois covers all my other expenses, so I live in comfort if not luxury. By the time we got through all that, we had eaten the pizza and drunk a bottle of wine. The train was pulling out of Milwaukee. Julie said "You know what you didn't show me on the tour?" Confused, I shook my head. "The bathroom." Laughing, I said "Downstairs in the aisle, doors marked men and women." As she scooped up her wadded tights and padded away, I realized that her shoes and socks had been off for some time. I removed mine, then went down to the rear section and put on some soft music. I was sitting on the sofa when Julie returned to the dome. Her tube top had disappeared, and her jogging shorts as well, leaving her in only a white lace g-string that I was sure she hadn't had on earlier. Julie's firm 38C tits swayed enticingly above her flat stomach as she approached and sat on my lap. I kissed her, and her tongue pressed between my lips to swirl around mine. After a couple of minutes, we broke off the kiss. Without speaking, Julie lifted my shirt over my head to expose my own lean torso. I stood and dropped my blue jeans quickly but not hurriedly. Julie leaned forward and pulled down my underwear, then slowly moved her mouth over my rock-hard cock. I had to put my hand on the low ceiling for support as Julie bobbed her head up and down the length of my cock, running her tongue around the head and lightly scraping it with her teeth. She kept this up for several minutes, until I thought I would die of pleasure. When I felt the first stirrings of an orgasm, I backed away. Julie looked at me, and communication flashed between us without words or even conscious thoughts. She sat back and lifted her hips as I removed the g-string. Dropping to my knees, I buried my face in the most beautiful pussy I had ever seen, not that I had seen many. Beneath the thin, delicate blond hair, dripping with her juices, her outer lips were a wondrous, puffy mound. The inner lips were peeking out between them, as was a gorgeous pink clitoris. I planted a kiss on Julie's clit and she moaned. I pressed my tongue firmly against the lips and they parted to reveal a glistening pink slit. I licked from bottom to top slowly, lingering on her clit and making her shiver. Then I plunged my tongue into her hole and she gasped, shaking with delight. I kept licking and sucking Julie's pussy until she had a crashing orgasm, waves of ecstasy wracking her body. I kept licking and swallowed all of the torrent of juice she produced. When Julie calmed down, she put her hands on my head and gently lifted my face away from her pussy. Our eyes connected again and I knew it was time. I kissed a few tender spots on my way up her body, pausing to give some attention to her beautiful breasts. They were shaped just the way I like them, creamy white and just at the large end of my preference range, with pretty, dark pink nipples that stiffened under my touch. Then I moved my face up to hers and pushed my tongue into her mouth, letting her taste herself. Julie wrapped her arms around my back and held me tight. Somehow my cock found its way unaided to Julie's pussy, and I pushed, sinking in the whole seven inches on only the second stroke. I began a slow rhythm, sliding in and out of the greatest ecstasy I had ever felt. Julie seemed to know just how to wiggle, just when to tighten the muscles in her cunt, to keep me as excited as I could be without making me come. Finally, though, it was too much. I grabbed Julie's tight ass and pulled her hard against me as I flooded her pussy with spurt after spurt of sticky white love fluid. Julie felt me shooting into her and came again herself, screaming in raw passion. I collapsed on top of her, spent. After a couple of minutes, I looked out the top of the dome. Standing at the window in the door at the end of the two-story Superliner car was a kid who may have been as old as 18. I had no way to know how long he had been there, but when he saw me looking at him, he waved and disappeared. I reached under the coach seat for a blanket I kept there and spread it over us. Julie and I went to sleep in each other's arms. I awoke to see the moon shining over the Mississippi River. Without waking Julie, I rose and headed down to the front of the car. I called the Amtrak train chief on the intercom and spoke to him briefly. When I returned to the dome, Julie was sitting up, with the blanket around her shoulders; she watched my limp dick swing as I walked. "Where are we?" asked Julie. "Approaching St. Paul." "How long until we get there?" "About ten minutes." "Just right," she said, and slipped out from under the blanket and onto the floor. She reached for my dick and licked it. It sprang to life in record time and Julie proceeded to give me the best blow job I could imagine, not caring that someone might see her as we wound through the city. Ten minutes turned out to be accurate, and just as the train bumped to a stop, I flooded Julie's pretty mouth with another torrent of cum. She swallowed it all. Suddenly there was a pounding on the side of the car. While Julie looked confused, I slipped on my jeans and headed for the door. The Amtrak baggageman handed Julie's suitcases up to me, and I slipped him a twenty for his trouble. Julie had put her g-string on and come to see what I was doing, and she was pleasantly surprised to see her bags. She dove into one and came up with a silk camisole, which she slipped on. We went to my bedroom and slept the rest of the night. We slept late in the morning, then talked some more over breakfast in the dining area. While I cleaned up, Julie went to the rear of car and stood looking out the back door window as North Dakota zipped by at 80 mph. I slipped up behind her, gently pressing my nearly naked body against her back and reaching under her camisole to caress her breasts. Julie let out a warm "Mmmmm" and put her hands on the door for support as she leaned forward. I slipped my cock out of my underwear, past Julie's g-string, and into her soft, warm pussy. We started slowly, but then I noticed that the train's speed was dropping. Outside, the wide open spaces had given way to houses and shops. "We're pulling into Minot," I said. "There'll be a lot of people on the platform when we stop." "Well, we'll just have to finish before then," replied Julie. I grinned and doubled the speed of my thrusts, reaching a fever pitch. The train stopped hard, throwing us to the floor. I managed to keep my dick inside of Julie's cunt, and the excitement of the moment triggered both our orgasms. As soon as we could stand, we retreated to the bedroom and put on some clothes. While I went outside to inspect my car, Julie used my cellular phone to call her parents' home and tell them not to pick her up; she was going to Portland. Three months later, we passed through Havre again, and again Julie was wearing white in the dome. This time, however, it was a wedding dress. The minister and Julie's family had boarded one stop earlier, and the ceremony concluded just as we arrived. Then everyone filed out and waved as Julie and I stood alone in the dome, locked in a kiss, while the train pulled away. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /