Dave Rides The Rails

Through the fog of rapture, I heard him say, "Wow, it just keeps getting better and better."

I chuckled and managed to croak, "Yes. Yes, it does."

Again he tried to kiss me. Again I recoiled, this time fanning the air to dispel the miasma of stale Marlboro that enshrouded him. Ernie saw and became self-conscious. I smiled at him as kindly as I could. His discomfort eased but thereafter he started popping Certs breath mints between smokes. Somewhere, stock prices soared.

Ernie's pleasuring of my cock became my calendar. I marked the days not as Tuesday or Thursday but as the day Ernie touched me this way or the day Ernie sucked my cock that way. It was on the last day of our calendar week that things stepped up a notch.

The caboose was rocking me into a revery. I watched Ernie jack his cock as he played with mine. He was at the point in his routine when he would begin the slow sink to his knees. A primal passion rose in me.

"It's my turn," I said as my head plunged into his lap. I felt the soft hardness of his cock between my lips. My tongue swaddled the plush tenderness of his crown and lapped at his leaking juices. I had no idea how to give him the pleasure that he gave to me. I was just careful with my teeth and tender with my lips and tongue. His cock fit easily into my mouth. I lavished myself upon it. Apparently, I was doing something right because I could hear Ernie's moans and recognized the lust in his throat as he called out my name. I felt proud when he quickly trembled and lurched and his cum filled my mouth. As much as I could, I savored it before swallowing. Ernie deserved that much. I discovered it wasn't revolting. I took it in with gusto and afterward licked my lips.

Ernie chuckled as he recovered. "You really got turned on, didn't you, Dave? You really went to town on my dick. Do you like my dick, Dave?"

"Yeah, Ernie, I really like your dick. I like your taste, too."

Ernie rewarded me by sucking my cock like a champ.

I didn't get called in over our days off so I actually got some downtime. Not that I could do anything. I still had to sit by the phone.

I thought a lot though. About the way Ernie tasted, the way his cock felt in my mouth. I didn't feel gay. I didn't feel like shouting down the avenue, "Look out men. Here I come." I just felt like I'd had a new experience and it was exciting and fun. I felt strangely noble that I had reciprocated the giving of pleasure. Ernie and I were in a weird, new place, no doubt. And it was especially titillating to be engaging in sexual acts in the workplace. Not that we were inflicting ourselves on anyone's delicate eyes or hazarding discovery. No one was hurt by what we did on the slow ride around the airport. It just felt good.

We started swapping blow jobs during our downtime of the night. I started paying attention to Ernie's technique and emulating it. We tried to 69 but the only spot in the caboose that afforded enough space was the floor. We quickly discovered that the percussive clatter of the wheels while lying on oak planks was like being pummeled by a Louisville Slugger.

We also discovered that timing was crucial. One night Ernie gave me a slow-building blow job that culminated in a massive climax from my cock. I tried to replicate the experience for Ernie only to have us arrive at the first switch of the next industrial park before he had cum. I quickly hopped off the caboose and threw the switch while Ernie composed himself. We spent the next several hours hopping on and off railcars, doing our job with Ernie in the agony of fellatio interruptus. Finally, there was enough time for me to drop to my knees and finish him off. It was fast and sloppy but I made sure the happy ending was worth it for Ernie.

Then the next night, I was the first in line for fellatio when Ernie abruptly pulled his exquisite mouth off my cock.

"You can fuck me if you let me fuck you too."

My euphoria-drenched brain ground its gears while shifting from delirious hedonism to the rational world. "You thrusting your cock up my ass? Nope. That's not my thing."

Ernie went back to performing a magic act on my phallus. Then, "You've said that before."

I roused quickly this time. "What?"

"You've said before that something wasn't your thing, then you tried it and found out it was your thing."

With my hands in his hair, I urged his lips back to my cock. "This is different. Now let's just stay focused."

The rest of the night he took every opportunity to revive the issue.

"Have you ever tried it?"

"You know I haven't Ernie."

"Then how do you know?"

"The notion seems entirely unappealing to me. Blow jobs I understand. Butt-fucking I don't"

"It's better than pussy. I know. I was married for three years. And I was perfectly happy with our sex life until I had anal with a guy. I ain't never looked back."

"You didn't tell me you cheated on your wife."

"I don't consider what I did cheating. I was discovering my true self. I would have been cheating myself not to try it." The look in his eye reflected an anticipation of rapture, conveying the forbidden pleasure he yearned for. "You're cheating yourself, too."

He let that sink in. "Man oh man, Dave. It's so good."

I deflected, "I've got a switch to throw. Let's just drop it."

The next night Ernie brought a magazine filled with pictures of men having sex in myriad ways including anal intercourse. Porn was different back then. It was sketchy, not entirely legal, and even the best of it had a sleazy look to it. All the more for gay porn.

"Look," Ernie said, "These guys are really into it."

I leafed through it quickly. We didn't have much time before we got to our first switch.

"It looks like one of them is enjoying the experience and it ain't the guy with the dick up his ass."

"No, he's loving it. I promise. Look he's moaning ah, ah, ah."

"Looks to me like he's saying ow, ow, ow, get that cock out of there."

"Just take the magazine home over the weekend and think about it. Just look at how much they're getting off."

"I won't get in trouble having this in my possession, will I?"

"Naw. Just don't cross a state line." We both broke out laughing over that. When we settled down, Ernie said, "No really. It's a felony to take it across a state line."

I did take it home and promptly stuffed it among my personal things away from my cousin's eyes.

A call to dispatch clarified my status. I was now high enough on the totem pole that I probably wouldn't be called in for a shift. Probably. I still had to stay near the phone. That meant no nightlife. No trying to get laid.

That was fine by me. I had sleep to catch up on, and books, and thoughts. Lots and lots of thoughts. While my cousin headed out into the Saturday Night Windy City scene I was just having breakfast and beginning my nocturnal day. He had a night ahead of him filled with live bands, drinks, pot, and chicks. I had a long night ahead all to myself and my imagination. And a phone that hopefully wouldn't ring.

It occurred to me that I wasn't crazy horney. Ernie was seeing to it that my balls got drained every day. In fact, I was having sex on a more regular basis than ever before. An extremely regular basis. You could set your clock by it.

But it was different sex. With a guy. Before Ernie, I hadn't even imagined that I would be getting off with a guy. Not that I had shattered some barrier into another dimension. It wasn't like that. It seemed more like I had been introduced, albeit with some reluctance, to a new way of experiencing sexuality. And humanity. Gradually, I was exploring new ways, manners, and techniques of satisfying myself and another, of sharing pleasure. Ernie had been slowly and steadily opening doors for me to realize the breadth of my human experience as well as his.

I had been seduced. Goddammit, the little fucker had seduced me.

And it had mirrored a natural adolescent progression. First, masturbatory experimentation. Then, oral gratification. And now the little fucker was trying to deflower me, to pop my cherry. The sly, weaselly little bastard.

I pulled out the magazine. I looked at it and read what there was to read in it. Six months before, I would a viewed the photos as abhorrent even though I have never been a judgmental person. It's all cool, was my innate viewpoint. But to American society in 1970, homosexuality was not only verboten, it was deviant. Not that I personally saw things through a lens tinted with stigma and puritanical condemnation. I was literally a child of the Sixties. I viewed decadence as a proper healthy pursuit. Still, pictures such as these were seedy at best. At worst, don't cross state lines with them.

But once they lost their shock value, I viewed them differently. After all, I had had Ernie's cock in my mouth a dozen times. I had felt it with my fingers. I had tasted it upon my tongue. I had explored it. I knew the tender spots that thrilled him. I was learning how to tantalize his cock through a sustained thrum of rapture then incite it into a wanton eruption of ecstasy. I had held it and admired it and appreciated its beauty.

This magazine wasn't artful. It didn't portray the beauty of love-making. The pictures were crude depictions of brutish sex. They were raw, almost guttural snapshots of men sucking and fucking each other in the most rampant postures with the sole purpose of spewing cum. They were primitive. And man did they make my cock hard.

I flipped through the pages, leering over one photo after another, imagining the sensation and the visceral roaring compulsion in each one. I was cranking away on my cock all along. And finally, with the photo of one sweaty guy buried balls deep in the ass of another, each of them grimacing in a strenuous moment of abandon, I shot a stream of jizz through the air and onto the very image. More and more cum splattered the glossy page and a stain spread. I came and came. The magazine dripped with my splooge.

As I gathered my breath, I heard the front door open. Outside my closed room, my cousin was bringing home a chick and they were both higher than a kite. I waited until I heard the stereo crank up before making my way to the bathroom, giving them a quick wave along the way.

I took a piss and threw cold water on my face. The mirror revealed a man I recognized as me and I spent a minute with my reflection. It was basically the same as a week ago, a month ago, or a year ago. All the changes were on the inside.

My cousin called for me to join them. We smoked a joint and drank some beer. I put the Cream album on the stereo. Man, what a great album. And the music played through that McIntosh tube amp the way rock was meant to be heard. His chick had long auburn hair. She was stunning without a trace of makeup. Her breasts swung freely, outlined beneath her peasant blouse. She was voluptuous, and sensual and inviting. I lusted for her. Kudos, cuz.

I bid them goodnight and retreated to my room. It wasn't long before I was serenaded by the sounds of them balling.

My efforts to clean up the magazine were not entirely successful. An apology would be required upon returning it to Ernie. I looked at more pictures as my cousin's chick was making sweet, sweet sounds through the wall.

I was once again aroused thanks to my youthful, virile cock. I wished I was the one balling her in the next room. I wished I was the one balling that guy's firm hot ass in the magazine. I really, really wanted to fuck.

I'd had my fair share of sex with many, many women. Yet not once had I had the urge for one of those women to strap on a fake cock and fuck me. Believe me, I'd known a lot of kinky women who were into a shocking variety of things, yet not once had the prospect of me being the one getting fucked been suggested. If it had, even by most far-out, banging hot chick, I wouldn't have been down with it.

But both the magazine and Ernie's insistence had convinced me that there was pleasure to be had by a cock up a man's ass. As I looked at more pictures and listened to more sounds through the wall, I jerked off, devoutly wishing I was fucking that guy or that chick. It didn't matter. I just wanted to fuck someone. Anyone. Her. Ernie. Anyone.

The next work night, I sheepishly handed the magazine to Ernie. "Sorry about the cum stains."

"So you liked it? You must have, right?"

"The evidence is right there on the page. Yeah, I think I get it. I'd really like to try it with you."

"Man, that's so great 'cause I really want to fuck you."

"Okay, there's the rub. I still don't think I'm down with being the fuckee, only the fucker."

"No. That's not fair. Come on, Dave, you can't imagine how much I want to fuck you. I've never wanted to fuck anyone as much as I want to fuck you."

"Well, I'm flattered. But what would be unfair is if I weren't upfront with you. That's not gonna happen."

Later, Ernie was pouting as we made the long slow trek to the other industrial park. He sat in sexual exile on the bench across from me, obviously not wanting to partake in our usual dalliance.

"Don't be like this, Ernie." I got on my knees and did a kittenish crawl across the hard wooden floor. I urged his knees apart and stroked his inner thighs. In a campy voice, I teased, "Please, Ernie, let me suck your dick. I want to suck it. I need to suck it." My eyes pleaded with his. "Please, please let me suck it."

He tried to remain stern but suddenly burst out laughing and was already hard as I opened his pants. I gave him a makeup blowjob that surpassed my best efforts up to that point and he came harder than ever. I slurped up every last drop. He reciprocated with exuberance. I stroked his hair as his lips played with the pillowy flesh of my crown and said, "What you've taught me about sex has made me very happy."

He pulled his lips from my cock and smiled up at me. "It's made me very happy, too."

He rose from his knees with pursed lips. I averted my face but pulled him into a deep hug. His lips found my nape and I let out a sigh before gently urging him back to my throbbing, slick cock.

The remainder of our shift was busy. Ernie stuck close to my side whenever the opportunity arose. After the last switch had been thrown, we sat in the dark caboose with my arm cradling his shoulders. As always, the engineer was like a draft horse smelling the barn, racing the cars on Interstate 90 back to Proviso. After uncoupling, Ernie stayed by my side on the walk to our cars.

"I really like you, Dave."

"Cool. We have developed an interesting friendship."

"A special relationship, I'd say."

"Okay. Cool. See you tomorrow, Ernie."

"You mean you'll see me tonight, Dave."

"Yeah, right. Okay, cool."

The next shift Ernie didn't bother playing with my cock at all. He was on his knees in a flash, rampantly sucking on my cock with an unusually juicy mouth. I was loving it when he pulled off.

"I want you to fuck me tonight, Dave."

"Really? Okay great."

He went back to working my cock with a ravenous hunger as he somehow shed his boots. When he had me teetering on the highest peak of carnality, he handed me a tube telling me to rub it all over my cock as he half-rose and kicked off his jeans. Then he lay back on the cushioned bench and raised his knees to his chest.

"Get it good and slick. That makes it much better."

"Right," I gasped. "We're gonna do it like this? You on your back?"

"Yeah. Missionary is best for a first time."

I knelt on the cushion. He reached around and positioned my cock. "Just push in real slow till you're all the way in and then give me a minute to stretch out."

"I'm not gonna hurt you, am I?"

"No. I fuck myself with a dildo every day."

"Oh. Okay."

I leaned into Ernie once and then again to no avail. I was about to ask if I was doing it wrong when my cockhead burst past his sphincter. Ernie gasped. So did I as I paused there, uncertain about the clench around my manhood. I pushed slowly forward feeling a firm, warm sheath engulf me, resist me, yet acquiesce to the urgent, engrossing need that engulfed Ernie and I. Slowly, I penetrated deeper. The tightness seemed to entrap my cock, suck it deeper like quicksand. The tightness drove the breath from my chest and when I was into the hilt, Ernie's voice sounded from far away, entreating me. "Give me a second," he moaned. "Good God, you've got a dick on you."

Part of me was concerned I might be hurting him. Part of me didn't care. The clench of his ass was exquisite. My cock made demands that my restraint couldn't bridle. "I can't."

He gasped in protest as I slowly withdrew and then hunched deeper into the irresistible allure of his ass. "Oh yeah. Oh, yeah. Fuck me now."

I hunched him slowly and deeply. As he loosened, my need became more urgent. The music of his moans and grunts suggested the heat of his passion was rising, too. Abandon overcame me. With one arm braced across the window sill, the other on the cushion beside Ernie's chest, my manhood withdrew only to penetrate again with a will all its own. My consciousness collapsed into my cock. I breathed for my cock. My heart beat for my cock. My mind was focused only on my cock and the wonderful, engulfing sensations that washed over me.

I looked down. Ernie's eyes burned into mine as he gripped his core in concert with my thrusts. His face was flushed and his breath was hot. His hand clutched the back of my neck and pulled me down to his mouth. His tongue lashed at my lips. My tongue sprung from my mouth to meet his. We kissed deep and long, fueling the heat of our loins. I felt my passion rising and with one last great thrust I spewed my seed deeply within the catacombs of Ernie's delicious ass.

Then I collapsed. Ernie clutched me to himself with legs and arms encircling me and lips leaving traces of kisses atop my neck. My sense of the world slowly returned and my breath calmed.

"Holy fuck, Ernie." I managed to rise to my elbows and look down at him. There was grace in his eyes, fulfillment. I kissed him softly, deeply. "Give me a minute to recover and I'll finish you off."

He whispered, "You already did."

"What?" Then I realized the pool of splooge pressed between us.

"I came before you did. You fucked the cum right out of me. You and that amazing dick of yours."

He pulled me in for another kiss. I kissed him back.

Ernie didn't mention his desire to fuck me ever again. We had found our natural roles and we were both fine with it. He continued teaching me about manly love. He bent over the caboose desk for me. He rode reverse cowboy with his shoulders pressed against my chest as I reached around and jerked him off. He laid flat on the desk with one leg around my waist, the other thrown over my shoulder. He lay face down against the cushion as I pounded his ass, pinning his smaller body to the vinyl. If he didn't finish as I fucked him, I would gladly finish him with my mouth. It was heavenly but Ernie's favorite position was missionary so we could lock eyes and kiss deeply as he made a mess between us and I buried my jizz in this core.

Whenever he stood close I took to cupping his ass and I missed the voluptuous mound of it over our days off. When we were in the shadows of the industrial parks, we would often kiss. We laughed and talked and fucked like bunnies on the long, slow trips from one industrial park to the next.

After two weeks of this, the Station Master stopped us as we were boarding at the start of our shift. He handed Ernie and the Engineer thick envelopes.

"Negotiations have concluded, guys," he said. "Here's the offer. The union reps want us to take it but it's up to the rank and file to ratify or not. Look it over. Talk about it. But I need your votes tomorrow night."

That night, Ernie sucked my cock for a long time then I fucked him hard and fast. We both knew it was either a new contract or a strike. Either way, our time would soon be over.