Night Train Girls

I'm one of three men riding, and she's a one-at-a-time kinda gal. I sit quietly and don't look anxious, so she leaves me for last. She knows we're all customers, from the looks on our faces I guess, so she's not shy about anything. Maybe it's her way of hooking the next guy in, lettin' us all see the action the way she was. Or maybe she just gets off on showin' off. Whatever, it was take no prisoners fuckin' under the florescent lights. You want a public sex show on a moving train? This is your car, and this is your girl. Just ask for Skye, and tell her Webb sent you.

If Fat Walter was right, and these are wives out doin' the dirty in the night, I kinda wouldn't mind being Skye's hubby. Yeah, she's older than me, and yeah, she's had more peckers up her smooth-hole than you can probably count, but damn, the girl knows how to have fun.

Nobody else rode with us, and she took her good, sweet time. As she finished each guy he disappeared at the next stop, leaving her all to me for the last hour. She seemed to have a sixth sense about whether anybody was gonna board and put a damper on things, going so far as to roll in and out of one of the stops naked as a red-haired jaybird. I gotta say, it was pretty fuckin' wild, pounding her slippery slot sideways with one smooth leg up over my shoulder as the lights of the platform flickered across us. I didn't let up and she had a crazy wild smile as her big excited eyes scanned the windows and doors. The train wheezed back to life and we were gone, back into the darkness.

"You're fun, baby," she said, all breathless and excited. I could almost see the tingly electricity in her skin.

As I fucked her my mind went to physics. Ask me why and I'll tell you I don't know — why does anybody think of anything when they're fucking? I started thinking about the velocity of the train, and the movement within. You didn't know I was such a fuckin' intellectual, did you?

So the train's going sixty-miles-an-hour, and my cock's inside that train, moving through time at about double that with each thrust and not moving through time at all on the pull-back. Or something like that.

"I'm fuckin' you at twice the speed of light," I say, exaggerating a little. A streetlight flashes in, like a strobe.

"Take me to the moon, baby!" she says. "Take me to the moon!"

At the end of the line we get off and step onto the platform, Skye holding my arm like it's a date. I see Nora get off the car ahead of us. She looks at me and waits, not sure if she should interrupt. Skye kisses my cheek.

"Next Wednesday?" she says. "I'm here every week."

I give her a 'yeah baby' look because I mean it and she walks off. Nora wanders over.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," she says.

"Did you see Amanda?"

"No. Didn't see her," Nora says.

"Me neither," I say.

"Nice night for a train ride," Nora says.

"Yeah, nice."

Nora's wrap dress doesn't look right. Not as right as it looked when the night started. I don't say anything about it.

"So what did you learn?" I ask.

"Learn?" she says, smiling like she feels good. "Men are pigs, and I got a newfound taste for pork."

I smile too. Nora tugs at her dress, trying to straighten it a bit, and closes the trench coat around it.

"Chilly this time of day," she says, looking at me a little sideways. "How 'bout you, you learn anything?"

"I worked out a physics problem, about velocity and motion," I say.

"The angle of the dangle is equal to the heat of the meat?" she says as she takes my arm. I laugh, and we buy a ticket back to the city.

—

I show up at the office about noon, and Nora's already there. She brings me a cup of coffee, looking relaxed and happy.

"You ridin' tonight?" I ask.

"Nope. Wouldn't wanna make a habit of it. Unless you need me," she winks.

"No, you're off the hook, doll," I say.

"This'll be four nights in a row for you, huh Webb? I never knew you had that kinda...gumption."

"Yeah, well..."

"I'm impressed. Maybe I should commit a crime so you come look for me."

"Where do you think I'd find you?"

"In the pork section," she smirks. "Hidin' under the salami." She turned on a spiky heel, and wiggled her cute ass out of the room.

The phone rings right before I'm heading out for dinner. It's Walter Ningsworth, calling from Chicago, checking to see what kinda dope I'd scraped up on his frau.

"You were right, there's some wives turnin' tricks onboard, but no sign of Amanda yet," I tell him. "If you got any clue as to day of the week or anything like that, it'd help."

He tells me he travels for business, a lot, so she's often got a free schedule to do her thing, whatever that thing might be. It wasn't much help, and I tell him I'll keep at it.

"It's not cheap. Expenses are piling up," I tell him. "To get the girls on my side I basically gotta pay 'em their regular fee, if you know what I mean."

He says that's fine. I don't tell him that since I'm paying the fee I take whatever goods they're offering, just to make sure the girls don't get suspicious. No need to spill all the methods that a good dick uses in his job.

After dinner I get some shut-eye on the office couch, and make my way to the station. The old ticket biddy shakes her head in disgust when I ask for Schoolsgate again.

When the train pulls in I do a quick walk-by, looking in the dirty windows, hoping for a glimpse of Amanda. There's only a minute or two to spare. The best I come up with is the back of a head with similar hair, so I jump inside just as the doors are closing.

I walk past the dame and see the front of her — Amanda Ningsworth, in the flesh. It's just the two of us, on the northbound tracks, racing through the night.

"Want some company, honey?" she says.

She's not pushy. Doesn't even get up out of her seat to join me. Her dark-red lips curl at the corners, with just a hint of welcome.

"Sure, doll," I say. "It's a lonely night."

She rises from her seat on those slim legs of hers and saunters over. She slips off her long coat, puts her foot on the seat next to me and bends to fix the strap on her high heel, giving me a nice look inside the top of her dress, and the bottom of it too.

"Mind if I pay for your ticket tonight?" I say.

"Sure, hun," she smiles.

I hand her a couple crisp hundreds and she stashes them inside the top of her stocking. I think for a moment about Fat Walter, and the ethics of fucking a clients wife. Thing is, I have no idea if she's really turning tricks unless I see her do it, and there's nobody there but me. Fate seemed to put us together, and on that night fate had a hard dick.

"Stand up, Hun," she says. "Let me get a look at you."

I stand and take off my coat. She leans me back against a shiny chrome pole and runs her hands over my shirt, feeling my chest and my stomach through the silk.

"Nice," she says. "I'm tired of fat guys. You got a nice body."

"You too, sugar," I say, looking down at the way the fabric of her dress drapes over her tits. "You too."

"We shouldn't waste time, huh?" she says. "Two Benjamins is a whole lotta fun."

She slithers down to a squat, her dress opening up as her knees spread, showing off bright-red crotchless panties and her big pussy lips. My poker was in her mouth in a flash and I had the goods on her. Busted. A bored housewife doin' the nasty for cash. I could stop right there and report to Big Walter and collect my dough. Or I could give him a more thorough report — just what, pray tell, was his sweet wife Amanda willing to do out there in the dark of night?

She was willing to give a man a blowjob. A nice wet one. She was willing to tell him all about his cock, and how good it tasted. She liked to suck it deep, too, telling the man it was the biggest one she'd seen in a while, gagging on it and making her eyes water as she sucked it like a hungry girl.

She was willing to strip off that pretty dress of hers, flashing through the dark night in nothing but high heels, thigh-top stockings and bright-red crotchless panties, little lace ones that you could see right through.

She was willing to ride a rail car with a mostly naked man who she'd just met, and let him slip his cock between those big pussy lips of hers, the ones Fat Walter used to love.

She was willing to squeal like a schoolgirl when the stranger in the night fucked her deep, and she was willing to tell him all the dirty things she wanted to do.

"Pull my hair, baby," she says. "Pull it hard and I'll let you put that big cock in my ass."

I gather up her raven tresses and use the leverage to fuck her even harder.

"Harder!...Harder!" she cries. "Fuck yeah! Put it in my ass! You'll be my biggest. I always wanted a big cock in there."

I pull out and crouch behind her, licking my wet tongue through her snatch. She's got a perfect little pucker-hole, bright and smooth, like a teenage girl. I slippery it up as best I can and stand up, ready to gather some more evidence for Big Walter. My cock's still greasy and I press it in.

"Oh, fuck yeah!" she grunts. "The hair! The hair!"

I gather up the silky stuff again, with both hands this time, and pull it tight as I thrust my way home. I'm deep in her dark hole and the train is deep in the night. Sleek, slim Amanda is hangin' on for dear life, cummin' like a motherfucker, growlin' like a beast. Lights flash through the windows like a strobe and I cum too, as far inside the dark night as I've ever been before.

———————

"You look whipped," Nora says when I straggle into the office the next day.

"Case closed," I say, tossing my notes on her desk.

"Amanda? You catch her?"

"Red handed," I say.

Nora smirks and picks up my notes. I watch as her eyes scan the pages.

"She does anal, huh? Dirty girl," she says, still reading. "Sounds like Walter's got a fun wife. She look as good in person as the pictures?"

"Yeah, she's a real doll. She'll make somebody happy, if she settles."

"Gaggin' on a blowjob, huh? It takes a big cock to do that," Nora says, glancing at me slyly as she re-reads the good stuff. "You see that first-hand?"

"I did."

"She good at it?"

"Yeah," I say. "Lots of practice probably, right?"

"Yeah," Nora says. "A girl needs practice to get good at that shit."

There's new ground being broken in the dusty old office. Nora and me, we'd never talked about sex before. Sunlight streams in through the blinds. Nora's red high heels seem to glow in a shaft of light.

"New shoes?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah," she says, happy that I noticed. "You like?" She lifts her ankle up onto her knee to show me. It puts her in a nice posture, back arched in the old wooden chair, with her thighs apart. She's in a tight, boldly pinstriped pantsuit. The stripes converging at the crotch look like a pussy. That's the way my sex addled brain sees it anyway.

"You know," she says, noticing where my eyes are, "I could use a little, now and then."

"A little?"

"Yeah. Practice. You know. After a long day of paperwork and stuff."

"Yeah," I say. "That's not a bad idea. Kinda like, to keep from gettin' rusty and whatnot, right?"

"Yeah. A girl likes to get good at stuff around the office," she says. She looks at the notes again. "Crotchless panties huh? I wonder where she got 'em. And three orgasms? Real ones you think?"

"I'd put money on it."

"How many guys did that take?"

"Just one."

Nora lowered her foot to the floor, but kept her thighs wide. Her eyes seemed to have an inner light.

"I'll type up the report," she said. "When I'm done maybe you'll let me have a sip from that bottle in your desk drawer? We can blow off...a little steam."

I smile and walk into my office. My head hits the pillow on the couch and I doze off into dreamland. Nora's there. She and I are ridin' on top of a train, the wind in her hair on a moonlit night. She's got a crotchless pinstripe pantsuit on, her tits bouncing free under the open jacket. I'm on my back and she's ridin' me, with my cock way up deep inside her. When she cums she opens her mouth and the train whistle blows. She's a night train girl, and she's blowin' off steam.