An Eventful Train Journey

The pressure from those fingers is intense, and it's all I can do to stop myself yelling out loud. I lower my head and bite hard on a coat sleeve, sinking my teeth into the soft fabric, and clenching them tight.

Unable to keep silent any longer, I let out a muffled yelp of ecstatic delight, and I shift my gaze warily to my left, thinking that someone must surely have heard me. At the far end of the carriage, though, there are raised voices, and no one is looking this way. I think someone must have tried using a mobile phone in the "quiet" carriage, and that's led to an argument. That's good news, for me, just now, as it's all I can do not to yell out loud.

Moments later, as I happen to glance to my right, I realise, to my outright horror, that just a few inches away from me, the staff-only door is open. Just inside is a man in dark navy uniform, peering out. He's a small man, and although I'm wearing very high heels, I'm bending well forward, and so our eyes meet, on a level, directly.

Oh, holy fuck. If I didn't have two stout male fingers stuffed full-length into my asshole, I would just shit myself, right here.

The man holds his gaze steady. I grip the seat-back I'm holding, even more tightly, as I sense that my legs could be about to give way completely. Perhaps my over-active imagination is misleading me, but he appears to be stifling the urge to burst into uncontrollable laughter.

I've no idea how long he's been there, but it could be a while, as I didn't hear the door open. Unlike the passenger door, this one makes no sound at all. I imagine that he heard the raised voices, further down the carriage, and thought he should take a look for himself.

I console myself with the realisation that he can't actually have seen much. I've got a large coat on, and the man with his fingers inside my anus is almost completely hidden behind me. That said, the onlooker will have had time to put a picture together, and unlike me, he's evidently seen some humour in the situation.

Once he's sure of his composure, he smiles politely, and says, "I thought I'd just mention that my colleague will be commencing a full ticket inspection shortly. Please be sure to have all your travel documents available for examination". Then, before he can let his sense of humour get the better of him, he steps back, and the door closes.

This is dreadful. Never before have I let a situation get away from me like this. My partner has slid his fingers out of my asshole, and he's swung round into an ordinary sitting position, doing his level best to look as though none of this had anything to do with him.

What a bastard. I can't believe he'd behave like that. Then again, I suppose I might have done the same, in his situation. After all, he didn't ask me to shove my naked cunt into his face, while he was leafing through The Economist, and quietly minding his own business.

In the midst of all these thoughts, I realise that I'm dying for a piss. That was quite a large coffee that I had earlier, and now I'm going to need a toilet fast.

If I can get back to the sanctuary of that tiny cubicle, I can start to salvage something from my situation. As I said, it could have been worse. Dark Navy Uniform Man took it all very well, evidently seeing the funny side, and he didn't give me any hassle.

As for my appearance, I can usually handle looking like a totally-trashed slut, with no problem at all, but not in circumstances like these. There's still one disaster that could befall me, even now, and that would be to run into the impeccably-outfitted Dark Navy Uniform Woman, while I'm in this state. That must not happen.

Her colleague will be on his mobile phone, at this very moment, bringing her up-to-date on events in Coach 'A'. That should give me just enough time to straighten my coat, grab my handbag, and dash to the toilet. I just have to hope that it's not engaged, when I get there.

I sit down for a second, to reach for my handbag, which is on the seat by the window, and as I do so, the worst happens. I hear the familiar clunk of the door at the far end of the gangway. I don't need to look, to know who has entered. A shrill voice carries easily down the length of the carriage.

"All tickets and passes please".

*

Submitted July 2012

Did this really happen - or was it all a dream, that started as I nodded off, while looking out of the carriage window, and ended when the ticket inspector appeared?

Any genuinely constructive comments would be greatly appreciated.