Strangers on a Train

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With apologies to Alfred Hitchcock….this story ends a lot happier than the movie.

Back in the summer of 1981, I was 22 years old, and was taking what is now called a “gap year” off college. Back then, we who did that were just called drop outs, and instead of being spotted a summer backpacking around Europe, had to get a job. I found a job as a bank teller in Manhattan, but also, as what’s now called a “side gig,” would work for my mom, who was a trial lawyer for a firm on Long Island. This consisted mostly of gopher work-running things to the various court clerk’s offices in the New York area, picking up witnesses in trials, process serving, and so on. Occasionally, it involved something farther afield, which is how I wound up on Amtrak’s Montrealer, bound from New York to White River Junction, VT.

Mom was working on a medical malpractice case, and had prevailed on doctor at Mary Hitchcock Hospital in Hanover, NH to testify as an expert in his particular specialty. Rather than have him come to New York, she was going to go there to take a deposition. This was going to happen around Labor Day weekend. She was driving up during the week, and I would catch up to her after work on Thursday evening, since I had managed to get Friday off leading into the weekend. The train departed Penn Station around 10 PM, arriving in White River Junction around 6 AM the next morning. Once I arrived, we’d drive over to Old Forge, NY, in the Adirondacks, where mom had recently bought a vacation home. We’d finish the weekend there, then head home to New York. I’d do most of the driving, which was fine with me, I always enjoyed a road trip, even if my mom was something of a pain in the ass to travel with.

The day came to depart for New England. I had dinner with my dad, who lived on the west side of Manhattan, a block from Penn Station, convenient to my trip and to work, which was on the east side. Dinner with dad was enjoyable, as it usually was. Dad was pretty relaxed and laid back; he also made a killer beef barley soup, and knew his way around a good steak. After a couple hours of quality time-good dinner and a half dozen Beck’s-we left for the station, dad coming along to see me off. The Montrealer was announced, and dad came down to the platform to put me on the train. As it pulled in, he noticed a blonde sitting midway down the car that stopped in front of us. Dad never missed a good looking gal, and he was on top of his form that night. We made our farewell, and I boarded.

As I made my way into the car, I caught the eye of the blonde, a young lady with wavy, slightly longer than shoulder length hair, and a pretty face, in a white summery sleeveless dress. Her blue eyes met mine, and she started to move her bag from the adjacent seat. The open seat next to her must have been vacated on arrival at Penn Station, as there was a man getting luggage from the overhead rack when the train was pulling in. She had moved quickly to block the seat, perhaps hoping to keep it empty-not likely, I later found out the train was sold out-more likely to have some control over her seatmate. It looked like I was going to be the winner in that derby.

I took her moving her bag, and big smile, as an invitation, and sat down next to her. As I settled in, I could see dad looking on approvingly from the platform. I waved, and explained to my new companion who that guy was out the window. She waved and smiled at dad, a greeting he returned cheerily.

We started moving shortly, heading into the East River tunnel, then on through the yard complex in the Sunnyside section of Queens, and on up to the Hell Gate Bridge, during which time we introduced ourselves. She was Christine, from Wilmington, Delaware, and also headed to White River to spend a month or so with family there while she sorted out a troubled marriage.

“I’m Tom,” I said, and explained my situation. She thought that was cool, that I’d get to spend some time with my mom, and she was looking forward to doing the same up in Vermont.

I mentioned to my new friend that the view from the bridge of the New York skyline at night was stunning, and to look out the window next to her as we crossed into the Bronx. She did, and was thoroughly impressed by the view of New York late on a Thursday night from the high up vantage point of Hell Gate.

“That was amazing,” she exclaimed as we now moved on to the urban blight of the south Bronx. “I’ve never been to New York before. That was really pretty.”

“Yeah, New York can be a beautiful place seen from a distance-and the skyline at night will make anyone fall in love with the city. Living here is a bit of a grind, though,” I said, with all the jadedness of a native New Yorker.

We rolled on through the Bronx darkness, up through Hunts Point, and through Pelham Bay Park, then into Westchester’s suburban splendor, and farther on, into Connecticut. Our conversation flowed easily as we shared life stories, how we got where we were in life, hopes and dreams. It seemed we were building as much of a bond as two people Ankara Rus Escort thrown together by circumstance can get in a short time. Finally, between Stamford and Bridgeport, Christine allowed she was getting tired, as she’d been up early getting ready for the trip, and it was now pushing midnight. I suggested she grab a nap for a little bit if she wanted.

Christine thought that would be welcome. I offered my shoulder to rest her head on, but that turned out to be a little bumpy on Northeast Corridor track, and she shortly wound up leaning against the window, using her bunched up sweater for a pillow.

“Too bad you can’t get a sleeping car on here,” she said, unaware such things existed.

“They do carry a sleeper on this train,” I said. “Let me see if there’s any space available.”

“You’d do that?? Do you mind sharing??”

Well, this was a turn of events. I’d have ridden all the way to Montreal to share a sleeper with Christine.

“No, not at all. The question is, do you?? I mean, we just met here. It’s not exactly like we know each other well.”

Christine smiled. “I feel like we’ve gotten close, as much as we can in a 90 minute ride. I think you’d be fun to spend the night with.”

Well, OK then!! I flagged down a conductor to inquire about sleeper space. He said to check with him after we left New Haven, so he could see if there were any cancellations or no shows. Christine nodded off, and we rode on into New Haven.

Christine was jolted awake during the service stop at New Haven, feeling the bounce the train took as the diesels that would pull us the rest of the way coupled on.

“What was that??” she asked, groggily.

“Engine change. We go from electric to diesel power here. Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, OK,” she said sleepily, turning back to the window. “Where are we??”

“New Haven. We’ll be underway shortly.”

Christine gave me a sleepy smile and dozed off again. A few minutes later, we were moving once more. As the conductor came around to lift New Haven tickets, I asked again about sleeper space. He told me the sleepers were sold out, but he’d confirm and get back to me, which he did a little while later. Meanwhile, Christine, who had now finished her power nap, had awakened. I told her what was going on as far as sleeper accommodations, to her disappointment.

“Too bad. It would have been nice to relax with you.” She kissed me, short and sweet. I returned her kiss, longer and deeper. She met me with equal ardor, kissing me back hard. We broke, looked at each other, then went back for another long, lustful kiss. When the conductor had taken all the New Haven tickets, it was lights out, as it was now past midnight. I took Christine’s face in my hands, and kissed her again, holding her cheeks gently. I reached over, and undid two buttons on her dress, then reached in, working my hand into her bra, gently squeezing her left nipple. She giggled at first, then sighed quietly as the electricity from her tits flowed through her.

I continued to play with her nipple, gently kneading her breast as I steadily built her arousal. I unsnapped the front closure on her bra, letting it fall loose under her dress. I soon felt her shake, and her kiss intensified. I pulled away, and she caught her breath.

“Wow, that was hot!!” she said in a subdued whisper. “I don’t usually cum from my nipples being played with.”

“Well, let me give the right one equal time. I want to make you feel as good as I can, given that we’re in such a public place.”

Christine smiled. “Hang on a sec,” she said, reaching around to her left side. She pulled the left bra strap out from under her dress, sliding it over her elbow and off, then did the same with the right side. “Reach behind me and pull that off??”

I did as requested, handing her the white padded bra, her B cup tits now free. I opened one more button on her dress, and reached in to play with her now unbound right breast, kissing her as I played and tweaked the nipple. It didn’t take long, and she was soon breathing hard as she had a more intense orgasm than from her left tit. We broke our kiss and caught our breath.

“Now I’m going to really make you feel good.” Christine looked at me slightly puzzled. I reached under her dress, caressing her right thigh til I reached her panties. I could feel some stray curls outside the leg band. I felt all over what seemed to be a pair of plain cotton panties, giving her labia a good feel through them, making her moan gently as her pussy responded to my touch. After going up and down her cotton clad crease, I moved to the leg band, getting my finger inside, feeling what must have been a nice crop of presumably blonde pubes.

I worked my fingers through the thick hair, finally settling on her now open labia. I felt up and down the outer lips, then slowly dragged my middle finger up her inner labia, lingering on her clit for a quick moment, making her jump, then sigh. She kissed me hard, and Yenimahalle Escort I felt the first wave of juice from her insides as she had a short orgasm.

I started playing in her wet cave, getting first my index finger inside her, then adding my middle finger, spreading her nicely, rolling over her clit, finger fucking her deep, but slowly. I didn’t want to bring her off too fast, as I wanted the feeling to last for her, and also because I didn’t know how she was going to react when the final climax hit. If she was a quiet cummer, no problem. If she was a screamer, that might be a little more attention than we wanted on a crowded train.

A few minutes into my assault on her pussy, Christine stopped me. ‘Crap,’ I thought, ‘she’s having second thoughts about this now.’ I needn’t have worried. She kissed me, and reached up under her dress, pulling out her panties, which she stuffed in her purse. She kissed me. “That should make it a little easier for you.” she whispered, giving me a smile.

By Hartford, I found out. My gentle fingering started a slow burn in Christine’s pussy, and she was soon riding a pre orgasmic wave. Then, after I’d played on her clit a few moments following a good massage of her G spot, her thighs clamped down on my hand-it felt like she was going to break my fingers-and her pussy soaked my hand. She buried her face into my neck, biting on my shoulder as she came. I heard several muffled moans as she let go, more juice flowing from her insides, her hips shaking. I stayed still, just letting it wash over her.

After a few minutes, though it seemed like a half hour, she finally relaxed and kissed me gently. “That was amazing.” She kissed me again. “Nobody ever made me feel like that.” She smiled at me. “I can’t believe you made me cum that hard.” She let out a short, intense sigh. I kissed her.

“The turn on is the turning on. I wanted to make you feel as good as I possibly could.”

Christine looked at me, her eyes searching. “I wish I could do the same for you. Too bad the sleepers are sold out. I’d take you back and do you silly.” She kissed me, giving my crotch a slow pass with her left hand, then started rubbing up and down. “Maybe we can still do something.”

We were pulling into Hartford, and people were getting up to disembark. “Might want to wait a few minutes, til the crowd settles down,” I said, noting there were also quite a few people on the platform as we rolled into the station.

Christine kissed me again. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said, laying her head on my shoulder, but still gently rubbing my cock.

The train did its station work at Hartford, and we rolled on. Springfield, Mass was next in about 40 minutes. Once we were clear of the station and people had settled, Christine looked up at me and smiled, then slowly opened my zipper, and pulled my cock out, something of a task given our sitting position, and that I was extending past the top of the zipper. We’d have undone the button on my jeans, but didn’t want to be too exposed to anyone walking past. She looked up and down, and after a few slow strokes, looked at me, smiled, and went down, taking the head of my cock in her mouth. Her mouth was wet and warm, and felt incredibly good on my swelling erection. She knew her way around a cock, and slowly, gently, steadily, went up and down on my stiff dick, occasionally looking up to see if anyone was about in the darkened car. She had a wonderful way of getting me to the edge, then holding me off. At one point, she almost sent me over the top, grasping the base of my dick to keep me from cumming, though she sputtered for a moment when a large drop of cum escaped the head, spilling into her mouth.

Thirty minutes later, we were arriving at Springfield, and people were starting to stir in preparation for detraining. Christine pulled off me, licked her lips and smiled. She tucked me back in my pants.

“We’ll get back to him after we get done here.” She was picking up quickly on the idea that we’d be interrupted periodically on the way to Vermont.

Springfield was, as I expected, a busy stop. One of the things about many of Amtrak’s longer distance trains is that, with a once daily frequency, even 0-dark-30 stops can get busy. I’ve seen crowds at places like Grand Forks ND, or Dodge City Kan, in the dead of night. Springfield, a major population center in western Massachusetts, saw a good crowd for the one train a day that went up the Connecticut River valley and into Canada, even if it was past midnight. I hoped the passenger traffic would slow down some, now that we were getting out of the more densely populated parts of the northeast, and that the likes of Brattleboro and Bellows Falls would not inspire too many interruptions.

We finally departed Springfield, and rolled on into the Connecticut Valley darkness. Christine had to visit the ladies room, and I took the opportunity to move from the aisle to the window seat, anticipating that our surreptitious sexual encounter would resume once she got back. She returned a few minutes later, to find me in her seat. While she was standing in the aisle, I was able to see her fully for the first time. We’d been sitting since Penn Station in New York, and while I had an idea she looked sweet in the white dress, it was now readily apparent: long legs in a dress that came about mid thigh, white sandals, and enough buttons open to make me crazy if we’d been on an actual date. She looked a a little puzzled at my new position.

“I thought me being over here would be a little less obvious,” I said.

She thought a moment. “Yeah, good point.” She kissed me, and, after a quick look up and down the car at mostly sleeping riders, she started to unzip me, releasing my cock once more, pulling it through my fly, letting it stand straight up. She stroked me for a few minutes as we kissed. She broke the kiss, smiled at me, and licked her lips. After another quick look up and down the car, she leaned over and took my cock in her mouth. As earlier, the feeling was exquisite, her warm, wet mouth on me, getting me soaked in her saliva as she went up and down.

Christine sucked my cock for about five minutes, getting me good and hard. I was starting to feel the inevitable build up to the final surge, and was fully expecting I’d be unloading a huge wad in her mouth before long. Christine had another idea.

She pulled away from me, holding my cock in her hand, and leaning over to kiss me. She looked down at my dick pulsing in her hand, then at me.

“I want that in me,” she said, looking at me, as if to say, ‘how are we going to make this happen??’

“We could try to make it work in a bathroom,” I suggested, not really wanting to do this in a cramped Amfleet lavatory, but not seeing many other options in the absence of a sleeper.

“Yuck,” said Christine. “Have you seen those bathrooms?? Gross!!”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that. Besides, there seems to be a steady stream of people making their way to them. Us screwing in one might draw some unwelcome attention.”

I thought a moment, then held my fingers to my lips in a ‘hush’ sign. “Where’s your sweater??” I asked in a whisper. She had been wearing a white cardigan when I got on. It was in our seats somewhere, I thought. Christine had a look of realization, then stood, and pulled it off the overhead rack, folding it lengthwise, and holding it in her lap. I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Very quietly, and stay down as much as you can, step over me.” I moved so she had a place for her left leg once she was in place. She did as instructed, and, catching on quickly, got in position over my upward pointing dick, pulling her dress up for better access, allowing me a view of her shapely ass. “Now, sit on me slowly.”

Christine didn’t really need instruction at this point. She lowered herself, taking my dick in her hand, stroking me as she guided me to her blonde paradise. I felt her pubes on the head, then her very wet labia, then that familiar, welcome push as the head of my cock spread her, then the wet, hot, depths of her vagina as she slid down on me, taking me all the way inside her, the head of my cock coming to rest poking her cervix. For a moment, I wished I’d pulled my jeans down to my knees, so I could feel Christine’s pussy on my balls, not to mention the added pleasure of feeling them mash against her clit as we rode. My sensible self didn’t want to risk the exposure if someone noticed, so I had to settle for what I could get with my cock sticking up out of my zipper. It was still pretty good!! Christine looked over her shoulder and smiled, and reached around to kiss me, a somewhat contorted kiss, but I loved her for the effort, especially in a crowded car, as we were.

As she pulled away from the kiss, I whispered to her, “Just ride. Let the train do the work.” Fortunately for us, the seats on the other side of the aisle were not directly opposite us, so the people riding across from us were either too far forward to see exactly what was going on, or too far behind us to see. Either way, it appeared they were all sleeping anyway. But stealth was going to be the better part of carrying off this sneaky fuck in an open coach. Also fortunately for us, the condition of Boston & Maine’s track was working in our favor, giving us a bouncy ride.

The ride, and Christine rocking gently back and forth on me had the desired effect, and we were soon reaching what I hoped would be a mutual climax. I could feel my shaft stretching her well oiled cunt, and the pressure was making me swell. A couple of good bumps, and I was reaching the point of no return.

“Gonna cum, Christine,” I whispered into her ear. My orgasm wasn’t imminent, but getting disengaged was going to be a slower process than normal, due to the need to keep our little event quiet. If the answer was going to be ‘Not inside me!!’ I wanted to be ahead of it, and not be saddled with the risk of an unintended pregnancy resulting from an accidental cream pie.

I needn’t have worried. Christine looked over her shoulder. I could see she was clearly well on the way to her own orgasm, her eyes were closed, and her breath was short. “Inside me. I want your cum,” she whispered. I could see her blue eyes sparkling in the dim night lights in the car. She bent around to kiss me.

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