Inside the train, I was more than comfortable. I had a private room and a good supply of books and music. After dinner, I decided to sit in the lounge car and socialize. I bought a drink, and looked for a seat. There was one empty seat in the car. A man, an older woman, and a young woman were sitting at a table for four. I joined the group, and was welcomed by two of them. The young woman (girl, I realized, once I had a chance to look more closely) ignored me. I chatted amiably with the two adults, who had obviously been in the lounge car for a while. Introductions were made, and the man looked over at the girl. "This is my antisocial daughter, Amy." She rolled her eyes at him.
She looked at me for the first time since I had arrived at the table. She was pretty, slender, with light brown hair that hung loosely about her shoulders. Her attractiveness was offset by the air of snobbish ennui she affected. She wore no jewelry, except for a simple string of pearls around her neck, and had on a white dress with a light floral print on it. I figured that she was probably a real heartbreaker at her high school. Her attitude as she looked at me was one of complete boredom, and I felt that she was trying to act older than she was. She rolled her eyes again as the conversation turned away from her. Amy stabbed quickly at the pack of cigarettes in front of her, pulling out a Virginia Slim 120. Yup, eighteen going on twenty-eight. She jumped as I provided a light for her.
"Thank you," she said. There was a brief pause and then her snobbish façade collapsed. "I am sooo bored. We’ve been on this damn train since two, and we’re going all the way to Chicago. I wish we had flown, but..." She glanced nervously at her father, still absorbed in semi-sober conversation. "He likes the train." I spoke with Amy for a while, trying to alleviate her boredom. Her father interrupted us by going to get another drink. Three times. Amy was a high school senior, eighteen, and they were going to visit Grandma. I let Amy bitch (quietly) about the train being so slow, but pointed out to her that no other mode of transportation was moving at all. Her father got up.
"I’m going -- back to the car and take a nap," he slurred.
Amy pulled out another smoke. "I -- I want to stay here for a while," she hesitantly said. Her dad waved his consent to her, turned and left the lounge car. "God, how can you stand it?" Amy asked after he had gone. "You said you do this a lot."
"I have lots of books, some music..." I paused. "...And my own room." I showed Amy the book I was reading, but that wasn’t what had registered on her. "I can loan you a book if you’d li-"
"You have a room? On a train???" Her mouth hung open. I was amused by her surprise. Before I could say anything, she asked, "Can I borrow a book?" Amy’s voice had reverted to its earlier bored tone. "I’d better do something or else I’m gonna go fuckin’ nuts." I told her that the rest of my books were in my room. "Can I take a look at them there?" I consented; after all, she was still in high school and much younger than I. We headed for my room, in the opposite direction from her seat. And her father.
Amy’s arrival in my car gained a raised eyebrow from the attendant. No comment, just the look. I opened the sliding door to my room. "Cool! Do you get a bathroom and stuff?" I gave her the quick tour. "Where’s the bed at?" I closed the curtain, shooed her into the hall, and pulled the bed down to complete the tour. Amy gave me a push in the back with a teenaged giggle, forcing me to vault onto the bed to avoid its metal side. Amy came in right behind me and slid the door shut.
"I thought you wanted a book," I said as she climbed onto the bed. Amy studied the door for a moment, ignoring me. She figured out how the latch worked, then kicked off her shoes. Smart girl. I caught a whiff of her perfume. Expensive, and probably bought with Daddy’s gold card. Daddy who was only four or five passenger car lengths away.
"I wanted to pass the time somehow," she corrected. "I might as well have fun on this goddamned train." Amy edged closer.
"I hate to be a spoilsport but --" Amy chose that moment to blow in my ear. "-- Your dad is about four hundred feet away," I finished with considerably less composure than I had started the sentence.
"So? He drank a whole bunch, and he’s out cold," she whispered, running her finger down my chest. Amy deliberately unfastened one of my shirt buttons. "You wanna make me remember my first long train ride?" She may have only been eighteen, but the delivery of that line, and the sentiment behind it were much older. Amy slid closer, removing any space between our bodies. It was getting hard to think. Down below, it was just getting hard. "I’m not a virgin," she said defensively. I never would have guessed, I thought sarcastically. Her lips caressed my left ear.
"While I’d like to, I don’t have a rubber. I don’t expect this sort of thing on a train y’know, and I’m not about to make any little brown babies," I declared, lust notwithstanding. I thought that I would feel relieved, but I felt oddly -- frustrated. Maybe because it had been a long time since I had had sex. But it hadn’t been long enough for me to even consider the possibility of offspring. Especially not with a eighteen year old.
Amy rummaged around in her purse; compact, wallet, cigarettes, matches all hit the floor, followed by her purse. She triumphantly held a foil packet between her first two fingers. I looked at her strangely. "Does your father know about that?"
"Yes, and he doesn’t want to," was her quick response. "C’mon, let’s do it," she urged, sounding eighteen again. I had run out of obstacles, so I did the only thing I could: I unfastened her dress and watched her wiggle her firm, teenaged butt out of her panties. She set to work at removing my clothes. I unhooked her bra, then went to kiss her. Amy resisted, turning her head. "No kissing," she said, "I only kiss my boyfriend." I snickered to myself at that. She handed me the rubber, which I put away for later use. "Wha--?" I kissed Amy on the neck, then dove straight for her pussy.
"Don’t make too much noise now," I cautioned her playfully. She shot me a surprised look as I scrunched into a bed made for one (well, three-quarters). My hands gently exposed her young hidden treasure. I ran my tongue lightly down her clitoral hood and circled her pussy.
Amy gasped. "My -- boyfriend -- doesn’t do that," she breathed. I delayed my assault for a moment. She continued, "But I give him blow jobs." I felt her hand and breath on my cock. Blood moved quickly.
"Amy, relax," I said. I raised my head to look at her questioningly. "Did you ever stop to think that that might be --" I searched for the right word. "Unfair? I mean, what’s good for him should be good for you too, right?"
She blinked. "Well, it’s different for him," she equivocated, apologizing for her absent beau. Amy quickly said, "I mean, you don’t have to do it. I’ll give you a blowjob anyway." Her tongue touched my cock, sending an electric thrill through my body.
"No, that’s OK. Trust me, I like to do this," I explained and dove in, leading with my tongue. I painted circles just inside her soft outer lips, using my hands only to hold her slender, firm thighs. I patiently licked around her clit, easily avoiding for now the still-hidden button. Amy tasted wonderful. As her lips swelled, and her clit popped out, she began to sigh repeatedly. I dug deeper with my tongue, using it with long scooping motions. She was very wet after a few minutes of this. The muscles in her thighs tightened. I stopped, and let her body vibrate for a few seconds. "Shhh..." I said, and plunged the scoop back in.
Amy stuffed a pillow in her mouth. I tongued her, sucking at the nectar that flowed from her inner depths, slurping loudly, as deeply as I could. She went nuts. Her legs scissored abruptly, almost trapping my head before I could hold them apart. Mmmf-ing sounds came from the area where her head was. I drew her clit slowly into my mouth and sucked on it. Amy had an orgasm. She bounced and thrashed as much as she could, any noise muffled by the pillow she clutched to her mouth for dear life. Her stomach and hips jerked stiffly while I sucked on her pleasure button. I stopped before the curl came out of her hair, only to resume my exquisite oral torture of her engorged slit. Her body’s movements became smoother, and the experience had left Amy breathing heavily. She had let go of the pillow.
I flicked her clit with the tip of my tongue. "Oh!! Gawd!!!" Amy’s head snapped to one side and she buried her face in the other pillow. I carefully lapped around the magic button, wanting Amy to return slowly to the peak. The train lurched suddenly, and my mouth scored a bulls-eye. Amy’s body went stiff as a two-by-four. She came again, her butt clenched, thighs taut, while her stomach rippled against my chest. By then, I was almost fully erect, but content to let the young girl come all the way down. I heard her almost hyperventilating as her face left the pillow. She would have to move before I could, since it was such a tight fit in the bed.
Her tongue touched my cock after a few minutes, and I became very hard. "Amy, scoot over as much as you can so I can lie down," I instructed quickly. She plastered herself against the wall while I rolled onto my back. "Now kneel and put your knees on either side of my hips."
Amy straddled me as instructed, facing me. "Like that?" she queried. "I’ve never done it like this before," she panted quietly, excitement in her voice, her father completely forgotten. "Where’s the rubber?" I pointed to the pouch over my head, and she ripped the packet open as she carried it towards my waist. Amy put it on me in a big hurry, and immediately began to slide my rigid cock between her wet pussy lips. It looked as if no further instructions would be necessary until the train stopped.
I grabbed her to keep her from moving. "Shhh," I cautioned. Amy slowed down, but continued sliding along my covered cock. I turned the fan on high, and opened the vent all the way. Amy’s breathing was barely audible over the fan, even in the still train. She stopped grinding so hard, just using enough pressure to keep us both ready. A jolt, rapid rocking, and noises signalled the passing of a freight. Our train began to move shortly thereafter. Amy immediately positioned my rigid rod at her soaking wet portal, and lowered herself with a quiet moan.
"Let the train --" I gasped involuntarily. Amy’s pussy was extremely tight, and had molded itself to the contours of my cock. "Do some work," I managed to finish.
Amy let the rocking and bouncing of the train take over. The external motion made me stir her insides like a spoon, for Amy’s tight, young pussy clung to me almost like the rubber did, and there was no sliding in and out in spite of her lubrication. Her inner vise did not relax its grasp at all. She was breathing loudly, and her eyes were shut as the train’s vibrations became our fucking. Amy shuddered and threw her head back, gasping. I pulled her upper body against mine before her approaching orgasm got loud. Suddenly, my cock was pumped frenziedly; Amy thrust her hips sharply down in short, hard stokes, and she poured her tongue into my mouth.
She whimpered into my mouth as her hips snapped back and forth, stirring her fibrillating cauldron, and grinding her clit against the top of my pubic ring. Amy kept driving her clit against me, only stopping her hungry kisses long enough to breathe before working more magic with her tongue in my mouth. This orgasm subsided slowly; our kisses became slower, deeper, with longer pauses between them. "I thought you oh-ohhhh... only kissed your boyfriend," I gasped in her ear.
Amy sat up, then slowly leaned forward, her eyes half-lidded. She kissed me, very wet and very deep. The contour of her pussy expanded a little more, still fitting like a second skin. "Shhh," she whispered while I tried to recover from her previous kiss. She put her hands on either side of my head, and started thrusting, rolling, and pumping her hips. Amy was a fast learner. My cock began sliding inside of her, her lubrication overwhelming the velvet grip of her pussy. "Uhhh-uhhh-unhhh," she whimpered at me. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close and holding her tight. Amy gave me another lust-filled kiss as her hips continued their smooth, steady, forceful pumping.
My hips began to move, almost imperceptibly at first, then faster and stronger as our fucking increased in intensity. I felt my butt clench and grabbed Amy’s head. She responded by giving me another powerful kiss, which triggered a forceful wave from deep inside my groin. I thrust up at her one time, viciously; flame shot into the barrier between us. My hips quivered for an eternity, all sound muffled by the sweet tongue that threatened to suffocate me. I stabbed senselessly at Amy as another line of fire shot into the rubber.
The eighteen year old woman squeezed my shoulders, flailing at my mouth with her tongue. Random fingers began to massage the beginning of all sensation crazily through its thin sheath, and that led to the explosion that scattered me all over the room. I kissed Amy, who responded eagerly after we had returned to our bodies, holding her, stroking her face and hair tenderly, not letting go until after the train had departed Canton, Ohio. We made no sound until the train had picked up enough speed to cover our conversation as it had covered our fucking.
I unlatched the door, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. "Please don’t step on my cigarettes," Amy said. I turned and she smiled, "otherwise I’ll have to -- borrow -- yours’." It was time to put the bed up, so she carefully got out of the bed, and stood in the hall, behind the room’s curtain, allowing me to put the bed up without exposing either of us, except for our feet. Amy started to put her things back into her purse, pausing to open the toilet and flush the spent rubber onto the tracks, to be left behind as our fucking had been. Still naked, and seemingly unconcerned, she sat and lit a cigarette.
I opened the sink. "You’d better wash up," I suggested, "before everybody on this train knows what you’ve been doing." I sat across from her. Amy put her feet in my lap, and took a long, leisurely drag on her smoke. She gave me a eighteen year old’s "come hither" look.
"That was fantastic," she purred. "I’d like to do it some more with you." Amy picked up a washcloth, and fiddled with it, still not moving from her seat. "My --" She paused and lowered her voice, "boyfriend --" She appeared to search for the right words. "He doesn’t last as long or know what to do like you." I just looked at her, feeling awkward. Amy stood up and put her cigarette out. "Maybe I need a new boyfriend." Amy washed herself quietly, dressing slowly, watching me watch her, possibly hoping that I would stop her. But, it was already after five in the morning, and the whole train would be waking up soon. I have little doubt that Amy had another condom available if I had decided to do it again. She applied her makeup, some perfume, then looked at me questioningly. I gave her a book, and a long, wet kiss before letting her go.
A few seconds later, there was a knock on my door. I opened it, and the car attendant poked his head in. "That’s a pretty little girl," he said, nodding his head to indicate Amy’s departing direction. I swallowed hard. "You know you wasn’t suppose to do what you jus’ did," he continued. I nodded nervously. "But it ain’t the first time that done happen in my car. So," he grinned, "I didn’t see or hear a goddamned thing." Returning to his professional demeanor, he looked at me with a straight face and said, "I’ll bring you some extra orange juice, sir." He closed the door, and earned a ten dollar tip for keeping more than the door shut.
I saw Amy and her father in the lounge car after breakfast. Amy waved me over to their table. Her father offered to buy me a Bloody Mary, since he was going to the bar to get another one. I declined, choosing apple juice instead. As soon as he was out of sight, Amy leaned forward and whispered, "He doesn’t suspect a thing. He woke up once during the night, but I told him I was smoking in the lounge car because I couldn’t sleep on the train." I smiled, relieved, and Amy stroked my hand for a couple of seconds. "Thanks for the book, but I’m not really into science fiction," she announced, squeezing my hand in a feminine fashion. She handed me the book I had "loaned" her, as her father returned with our drinks. Amy lit a cigarette, and turned her head to watch the falling snow outside the window. She had regained her air of snobbish ennui, in a performance worthy of an accomplished actress. I felt her bare foot run along my leg underneath the table. She didn’t look at me once.
After I left the lounge car, I only saw Amy one more time, when I walked past her and her reunited family in the station. I winked at her; she pursed her lips and blew me a kiss, smiling knowingly. The Broadway Limited had arrived in Chicago four hours late. I didn’t mind at all.