Art by Michael Kirwan  Story by Morgan


Originally published in Playguy magazine - June, 1992



All aboard for steamy nonstop action


Washington's Union Station was all but empty as I made my way to the first-class lounge. A bag lady shuffled across the floor in front of me, oblivious to anything going on around her. As I entered the lounge, the receptionist stood up from behind her desk. "Good morning, sir," she said. "How may I help you?"

"I'm going to New York on the 7:10 express," I replied as I handed her my ticket.

She took it and began to verify the information on her computer. "Your seat is 6A, Mr. Harris. Your car will be the first one outside the door at Gate Nine. We will start boarding in about fifteen minutes. In the meantime, help yourself to some coffee or juice from the counter behind you. Then make yourself comfortable. This morning's papers are over by the couch. Have a nice trip, Mr. Harris."

The receptionist returned my ticket and I made a stop at the counter for a cup of coffee. I then headed for a seat on the couch, across from the only other person in the lounge. He was a good looking business-type, with a tweed jacket, white shirt, blue striped tie and gray wool slacks. His hair was thick and black. A dark mustache complemented his chiseled, tanned face. But his most outstanding feature was his deep blue eyes. When this beauty looked up as I sat down, those beautiful blue eyes made me feel as though he was looking right through me. He gave me a brief smile, then returned to reading the newspaper.

It was exciting to be going home for the holiday break. It was the first time since I had started school at Georgetown University that I could visit my family. Since I had started the out-call service with my roommate, I had made so much money pleasuring the men along Embassy Row that I could afford to take the time off. Plus, I had finished all my exams, so I didn't have any schoolwork to look forward to until classes started again in January.

Never mind that I had a great vacation planned for myself. I lay my head back on the lounge chair, closed my eyes, and began dreaming about the time I was going to spend with Bart, a guy I had met in Washington during the summer when he was working as a Congressional page. This gorgeous blond hunk had shown up at one of the parties I had been invited to in one or the northern European embassies. It turned out that Bart's grandfather was an influential businessman in the country that was holding the party. I had been invited because one of my regular clients was the personal secretary to the ambassador. During the course of the evening we "discovered" each other, and wound up spending many pleasant hours together throughout the summer. Then Bart returned to school in New York.

When I told him that I was coming home for the holidays, Bart invited me to spend the time between Christmas and New Years at his parents' home on Long Island. Now I was looking forward to seeing Bart, curled up in a warm, cozy bed as the winds of winter blew across Long Island Sound. Just thinking about the blond hunk and the time we would share together got my imagination working overtime--causing a monumental erection to press against the crotch of my jeans.

As I opened my eyes and raised my head, I noticed that the businessman across from me was eyeing my crotch from around the edge of his newspaper. When he glanced up and held my eye, he must have known I had caught him in the act. He quickly returned to his newspaper, but would occasionally steal glances when he thought I was not looking. The longer I sat there, the more obvious it became to me that this man was interested in more than playing peek-a-boo.

One other man entered the first class lounge and was greeted by the receptionist. Then he took a seat on the far side of the room. I leaned against the armrest of the lounge chair, reaching into my coat pocket to take out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, then noticing that my seating companion was watching my every move from behind his newspaper. To kill time, I lit a cigarette and returned the pack and lighter to my jacket pocket.

In less than a minute, my not-so-secret admirer lay down his newspaper on the briefcase lying next to him and reached into the inside pocket of his coat to get a cigarette. From a side pocket he took out an expensive gold lighter. After lighting his cigarette, he took a long drag, then blew the smoke out toward the ceiling. With just a glance, he looked over to see my reaction. For a moment our eyes met. The unspoken message was intense, but nothing was said. Then the man returned to his newspaper.

Dreamily, I closed my eyes again and began to fantasize about this beautiful man in front of me. All thoughts of Bart mysteriously disappeared while I concentrated on daydreaming about having sex with the businessman across from me. Would he be like so many of the others I had been with? Or would he be something special? Would he wind up having a small cock hiding under a paunch of fat hanging down from his belly? I opened my eyes for just a second and stole a glance at his bulging crotch. He appeared to be thin, and perhaps muscular, but it was hard to tell with the clothes he was wearing.

Just as I finished smoking my cigarette, the receptionist came over to the two of us. "Mr. Harris, Mr. DiLia, your train is ready for boarding. When you go out the door, Gate Nine will be straight ahead of you. It looks like a light load, so feel free to sit where you would like, even though you already have a reserved seat assignment."

Mr. DiLia abruptly stood up, grabbed his briefcase, and was out the door before the receptionist could scurry across the room to deliver the message to the other man who'd joined us. I took my time getting to the gate. But to my disappointment, DiLia was nowhere in sight.

As I approached the car attendant, he asked for my ticket, then took the portion for New York and returned the rest to me. "Good morning, Mr. Harris," he said with a wide smile. "Sit anywhere you like; there won't be but three of you this morning. Would you like coffee, tea or juice right now?"

"No," I replied. "I'll wait for breakfast."

"Very good," was his reply as he waved me onto the car. Then the other man from the lounge came up behind me and the whole routine started again.

Upon entering the car, I saw my not-so-secret admirer sitting in a single seat to the left, near the middle of the car. I walked forward and took a seat two rows ahead of him. As I was taking off my jacket and putting it into the overhead bin, the third man entered the car and plopped down in a rear-facing seat at the end of the car. The car attendant served him a cup of coffee and returned to the platform while I sat and watched all the coach passengers walk down the platform to their cars.

The train pulled out of Union Station right on schedule. The first stop would be Baltimore, forty miles away. When the car attendant asked me if I wanted breakfast now or later, I told him I would rather wait. I then heard him go back two rows and repeat the litany. Though I couldn't hear what DiLia was saying, the sound of his rich, deep voice was music to my ears.

I looked out the window as we zipped along at a hundred and twenty-five miles per hour. At that speed, it is hard to focus on anyone thing. But I was hoping that the rush of the passing scenery would lull me to sleep. It must have worked, because I awoke when the train ground to a halt in Baltimore.

The stop was very short and the train left the station right on time. But as we chugged along, I heard the snaps of DiLia's briefcase open. The rustling of papers followed. Then I heard the briefcase snap shut again. Shortly afterward, the businessman got up from his seat and walked down the aisle toward me. As he passed, a note dropped into my lap. Then he continued down the aisle.

The note was written on a piece of paper torn from very good stationery. When I opened it, it took a second for the words to come into focus: In the handicapped toilet in three minutes. Knock once, then twice.

That terse message was all there was. I guess it was a take-it-or-leave-it situation. My gut reaction was to leave it, but I began to think about that beautiful face and those searing blue eyes. Then I waited what I thought was three minutes and walked forward.

Reaching the handicapped toilet, I looked over my shoulder, back down the car. The one other passenger was in his seat and the car attendant was nowhere in sight.

Nervously, I knocked once, waited, then knocked twice. Then the lock snapped and the door slid open.

As I stepped into the rest room and slid the door shut, I was not prepared for what faced me. DiLia was standing there with his shirt and tie open, his gray pants and underwear gathered around his ankles. His right foot was resting on the toilet; his left hand rested on his hip. He scratched his chin with his right hand, and I couldn't help but notice that his hairy chest and legs framed a big, thick circumcised cock. It was heavily veined and had a humongous head. Never mind that his balls hung down almost to the tip of his dick!

"Well? Are you going to stand there, or are you going to do something? Make up your mind. I get off at Philadelphia and I don't have a lot of time. Either get at it, or leave," the businessman brusquely sputtered, impressing me with his forcefulness.

After I had locked the door, he reached out with his right hand and I reached out with my left. It was as if an electrical shock had gone off when he pulled me toward him and embraced me. Almost without warning he presses his lips against mine. Passionately, he kissed me, his tongue pushing through my lips, probing my mouth. His hands slid down my back to my ass and he squeezed my buns as his tongue probed further. I reached down and took his big cock in my hand. Then his meat started to get hard and I stroked it lightly, not applying too much pressure.

Suddenly, he stopped kissing me, and with his lips still so close to me that I could feel his warm breath, the hunky businessman said, "That feels good. Don't stop."

I continued stoking his fat cock as he kissed my neck and the top of my left shoulder. Next I could feel his breath against my left ear as he whispered, "Suck on my cock. It's been so long; I want to feel your mouth around it."

As I knelt between his legs, the movement of the train threw me off balance for a moment and I fell against the wall. Using his left leg as a brace to straighten up, I faced the man's beautiful cock and licked the head of it, meanwhile smelling the sweet scent of his cologne. There was a very small amount of pre-cum on the head of his dick. So I wiped it off with my thumb as I reached down with my left hand and began to stroke his balls. But it only seemed to make his cock all the harder.

It wasn't long before he let out a long, soft moan from deep in the back of his throat. Opening my mouth as wide as I could I swallowed as much of him as possible. With about half of his cock in my mouth, I began to use my tongue to move slowly up and down the underside of his shaft. Then the businessman moaned louder and slumped against the wall of the lavatory.

My tongue worked furiously around the head of his cock while my left hand began to squeeze and fondle his big balls. Within seconds he started moving his hips in rhythm with my stroking action. Then little by little, more and more of his hot meat moved closer to the back of my throat.

I was enjoying what I was doing so much that I almost didn't hear him tell me that he was cumming. When I cautiously took his cock out of my mouth and rubbed its steely shaft, it didn't take more than four or five strokes before he shot a wad. Most of it landed on the wall behind me. But some of his jism dropped to the floor. Spent, he leaned back against the wall and breathed heavily as I continued to stroke his cock, milking it of every last drop.

As the train would lurch to the right and left, the pool of milky-white spunk began to run in different directions across the bright-red floor. I reached for a wad of toilet tissue. Then I wiped up what I could and threw the paper into the toilet, noting how drops of cum were still dripping from the head of his cock.

Mr. DiLia continued breathing heavily as I stood up and embraced him. He gave me another long kiss. But this time his hands were working to get my pull-over shirt off my head. After he pulled the shirt over my head, he hung it on a hook by the door. He then reached out and began to undo my jeans.

It didn't take him long to get through all the buttons on my fly. Pushing me back against the wall, he dropped to his knees and pulled my jeans down in one fell swoop. Then my stiff prong popped out with a "boiiing."

Not wasting any time, he rammed the length of my cock down his throat, nuzzling my pubic hairs with his nose. The next thing I knew, the businessman had reached around behind me with both hands and squeezed my ass so hard it almost hurt. Then he let my cock pop out of his mouth and looked up at me with those beautiful blue eyes. "Fuck my mouth, as hard and as fast as you can," he rasped in a low, sexy voice.

Using his tongue and lips to trap my cock, he pushed it as far as he could down his throat. At the same time, he began squeezing the cheeks of my ass as hard as he could. It didn't take me long to pick up his rhythm, and soon I was fucking his mouth like a madman. With every thrust, I pushed as hard and as far as I could. But I never heard him gag, nor did he ever try to push away.

I began to breathe heavily and my thrusting gained momentum. Never had I experienced anything like this and I wanted to take advantage of it. First I pulled my cock out of his mouth so that the tip was all that remained. Then with all the force I could muster on a moving train, I plunged the length of my shaft all the way into his warm wet mouth.

Soon the pressure began to build in my balls. My cock felt as though it had grown bigger and harder than it had ever been before. The urge to cum grew so intense that my breaths started to come in quick, shallow snatches and a sweat broke across my brow.

Somehow I managed to murmur, "I'm cumming!" But the rest of what I wanted to say was lost in my lust. When I repeated my warning, the corporate hunk still didn't pull away, nor did he give any indication that he wanted me to stop.

I couldn't hold it any longer. Even after I had exploded in his mouth, Mr. DiLia, cock-sucker extraordinaire, kept squeezing my ass to keep me going. I felt as though he was draining every last drop of cum out of me. Then, to my horror, I wondered if there was going to be any left for Bart?

Sweat ran down the middle of my back in big drops, my cock still jerking and dumping cum into the businessman's mouth long after I'd cum. The next thing I remember, he stood up and thrust his right hand between my shoulder, he reached into the side pocket of his jacket and took out a tube of lubricant and a packaged rubber. The next thing I knew he was smearing lube around my asshole, his greasy middle finger reaching into me. Then he bagged his boner and I felt his hard dick pushing into my smoldering butt.

It was a good thing that he waited a bit once he was fully inside me before he began to thrust. Grabbing hold of my hips, he started lunging his hips with an increasing surge of passion. After he got his rhythm, he reached around with both hands to pinch my nipples. A shot of electrical pleasure ran through me as he did this, causing me to spring yet another erection. Then, almost as quickly, his right hand moved down to my cock and the corporate cocks-man began to stroke it in rhythm with his thrusting.

It wasn't long before I actually began to enjoy having him in me. I loved the feeling of being powerless and out of control. Each thrust of his dick in my ass and every stroke of my cock by his hand was bringing me closer to orgasm. But after the one I had just had, I didn't think it was possible.

A minute or two later and the stud began to make noises in the back of his throat and his body jerked wildly. I could feel his cock swell to heroic proportions as he unloaded his jism into the rubber. Then all of a sudden I shot my load into the sink in front of me.

In his typical hurried fashion, Mr. DiLia pulled his dick out of my ass and yanked the rubber off his dick, then threw it into the toilet. Peering into the mirror, I watched as he smeared his cum all over his dick and balls. After that, he reached around and gave me a squeeze. He then buttoned his shirt and tied his tie, quicker than you could scat a cat. Then, in one sweeping motion, he pulled up his underwear and pants, then tucked in his shirt and buttoned the fly, pulling up the zipper in an exaggerated manner.

I had started to splash a little cold water from the sink on my face when he reached over and slapped my ass, saying, "That was great, kid." Then Mr. DiLia slid open the door to the rest room, stepped through it and closed it with a bang.

I stood motionless for a minute, trying to take in all that had happened. Locking the door, I moved over to the toilet and pissed on the rubber floating in the bowl. As I finished, the train came to a stop and I flushed the toilet, then put my clothes on--staying in the rest room until the train started moving again.

As I walked to my seat, I was thinking about how quick it had all happened. I also thought about the risk the strapping young businessman had taken swallowing my cum. So much for safe sex. Then it occurred to me that Mr. DiLia took risks not only in sex, but in everything he did, including business. When I looked back through the car, DiLia was gone. And I suddenly realized that last stop must have been Philadelphia.

When I reached my seat there was an envelope lying there with my name, Mr. Harris, written on it. Perplexed but pleased, I lit a cigarette and slowly opened the envelope to reveal five, crisp one-hundred dollar bills. On the first one was written, "Thanx." What a surprise! Now I would be able to do a little extra Christmas shopping for Bart.

Before I could recover from the shock, the car attendant approached and asked if I was ready for breakfast. I told him yes, that I'd also like a strong cup of coffee with it. Then he nodded and walked back through the car.

With a smug grin tugging at the corners of my mouth, I sat there thinking about the great experience I had just had. Like a tornado, it had all happened so fast. But what a way to start a vacation!


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They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
used on another website or blog; posted to any internet or computer newsgroup, forum or media sharing site;
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