Intimacy in the Age of Steam Pt. 12

It was as if Stan had something to say, he appeared at the glazed door to the compartment and opened it with an 'I've been thinking..." and then stopped on seeing two middle aged ladies in the compartment together with the usual four gentlemen commuters and the schoolgirl, Zephyrine. "Ah, yes, tickets please."

He examined all in turn. Season tickets and ordinary tickets, clipping the latter before departing.

It was annoying. The two ladies had been in the compartment when Hector and Frederick Trowse had arrived. The ladies had, of course, still been there when James Marlston and Tom Headman came strolling up the platform with umbrellas swinging.

Zephyrine too had appeared, at the trot, just before the off. She had pouted at the gentlemen just before opening the door. Hopefully the ladies had not seen that. It was rather a rude look, at least if the ladies thought they were the very reason for the pout. But how could they? How could they know there was a reason, a rather bad they would certainly think reason, why the schoolgirl did not want them in the compartment.

It was an oddly subdued journey. The gentlemen reading their evening newspapers, the schoolgirl sitting working at her homework, though she did ask Hector some questions about her Latin and indeed her English Lit. The questions, though, were not like some she had made in the past. There were no allusions to the sexual organs of the body or how to spell 'erogenous', 'cunnilingus' or some such word.

The mature ladies similarly sat, barely exchanging a word and reading. It was only after the schoolgirl had left at her station that one spoke.

"What a nice girl, so well-spoken and a delight. How sweet. Charming innocence. So studious at her homework. So good of you gentlemen to help her."

One of the ladies rather pleased Hector. Comely, pleasingly rounded and seemingly rather jolly. The other was rather stern, lantern jawed and just not attractive to him. The former in a pleasing cotton dress with cardigan, the latter in a severe tweed suit complete with brown brogues upon her stockinged feet.

Hector had a suspicion. No wedding rings on either ladies' hands. The way both their eyes had followed the girl as she had left the compartment, eyes upon bare knees above white socks and her suddenly moulded bottom as the skirt became a little taut. He wondered. Were the two ladies more than just good friends? Did they live together as companions to each other, and yet, perhaps, sharing a bed at night... for company?

An altogether rather disappointing journey for the gentlemen. It was, though, much better the next day.

Hector walked stiffly along the platform with Tom Headman. He had been thinking of Zephyrine on his walk from the office. He had been disappointed the day before, and Mrs Stubbs had not been accommodating that evening and so he had found it difficult not to think a lot of the girl and how generous she could be. Tom Headman had not helped by talking very much about Zephyrine -- her half-orange breasts particularly. Hector had stepped into the compartment fully turgid, rather aching to be let out. The girl was already there and seated, book on her knees. Being somewhat at eye level with Hector's waist she spotted the sausage shape within the suiting.

"Look what I can see!" Her voice gleeful. And she reached out and placed her open palm right on it. Her hand moulding over the shape and squeezing. It sent shivers up Hector's spine.

"What about me," asked Tom Headman.

"I can't see..." Zephyrine reached and touched with her other hand, "it's not. Oh, here it comes. I can feel it growing. Isn't that just such a wonderful thing -- how they grow so big. I like seeing that... or just feeling."

"I think," said Hector, "perhaps we should wait until the train is moving." The girl's fingers were already undoing his fly buttons. Hector did not have any problem with Frederick Trowse or James Marlston seeing his turgid penis. He was a long way past that -- as were they. But all sorts of people might come along the platform to the final carriage. A porter, the two mature ladies of the day before, other gentlemen commuters or another schoolgirl. Her shock might be quite unnerving -- even disastrous. She might scream! Though, of course, it might be a friend of Zephyrine's come to see -- come to have a suck... yes. The idea of it!

Hector sat down, removing the bulge in his trousers from Zephyrine's mobile fingers. The idea of it! Another schoolgirl keen to take his swollen, purple fringed knob into her mouth. Another pair of soft, pretty and virginal lips opening to absorb. His glans resting upon the cushion of her soft tongue. Her eyes -- should he imagine them dark and doe like, looking up at him with her mouth full of cock. And only then does Zephyrine introduce him, 'This is so and so...' His penis going into her mouth before he even knew her name. It was a pleasing idea. Not one to make his penis shrink.

But no strangers appeared at the door, and certainly not a second schoolgirl, just Frederick Trowse and James Marlston opening the door and stepping in. They were delighted to see Zephyrine.

"I was in PT today," said Zephyrine, "and I was thinking of you all."

"Really?"

"How much you would like to have seen all my friends and me running about -- and in the steaming showers."

"Pink naked bodies appearing through the steam," commented James Madison, tufts and bosoms, bottoms and..."

"We're not all pink."

"Really"

"Mmmm, no. Mandy's really black, and then there's Anupama -- 'Anu' -- so brown. But it wasn't the showers, it was whilst I was putting my skirt on, I was really thinking of you, I thought you might all be putting your hands up my skirt later so there was no point in putting knickers on. So I didn't! All around me girls pulling up their knickers and I didn't. And I've been looking forward to..."

The girl stood up, reached and held onto the luggage rack just as the train lurched and started its journey, planting her feet apart to steady herself and, of course, to ensure her thighs were open allowing access up and up to where they joined together. It was clear what she wanted the gentlemen to do. Clear why she, unlike the other girls, had not put her knickers on.

Hector smiled -- was not the girl just so delightful, standing there with her blazer, her tie and blouse. Such a delightful way her chest pushed the blouse and blazer outwards and the way her school tie dropped down between her breasts. And then there was her grey, pleated skirt with the material swinging against her knees as the train swayed over the points. The girl standing between the seated men. Two pairs of besuited knees facing each other one side of her and another two pairs the other. The schoolgirl so in reach of them all. And reach they did.

Not just one pair of hands reaching out to touch knees and tops of white socks but four pairs. Eight hands with thirty-two fingers, to say nothing of thick thumbs, touched the girl's exposed skin and made their way upwards within her skirt. So much sensation travelling from her epidermis to her brain, fingers moving upwards into erogenous zones setting off -- or perhaps amplifying -- her sexual response. Hands curling around thighs, hands sliding slowly but purposefully upwards.

"Oh, oh, oh!" went Zephyrine. "That is it! So what I was thinking of."

Under her skirt, fingers reached the girl's sex. Fingers touched soft, wet flesh. Fingers stirred; fingers poked.

"Who, whose finger -- fingers -- are in me?"

Hector and Frederick Trowse owned up, and then Tom Headman said he was 'in' too. Unsurprisingly there was a bit of fumbling around between the girl's legs and James Marlston announced he was 'in' as well.

"All of you in my little hole. And that is what I so want. All of your lovely penises in there one after the other, filling me.

Did the girl mean filled with cock or filled with semen, Hector wondered -- or both! Best not the latter. So important to have penises rubber clad, however erotic and enticing the thought of being without certainly was, to Hector and the other gentlemen.

Along the corridor the sound of 'tickets please.' Stan seemed to be starting at the front of the train on this journey.

It was James Marlston's idea. When Stan opened the door to the compartment all he found was Zephyrine standing, not a penis in sight though bulges might have been visible. Hands were not under the schoolgirl's skirt. Indeed, they were all holding season tickets for the conductor to inspect. The man, as usual, in his smart, almost black uniform, with its six silver buttons bearing the legend, 'British Railways', his waistcoat with fob watch and his shiny black shoes.

Stan nodded his head, under his peaked cap, its heraldic badge in gold showing a lion, 'sejant erect' in heraldic terms, grasping a train wheel, "Evening gentlemen, evening miss. They all look in order." And, of course, they did. They were the same as he saw every evening. "Your ticket, miss?"

"It's in my purse."

Stan looked around but no purse was to be seen. No leather purse with tucked in leather closure or cloth purse with brass catch. The girl was holding onto the luggage racks with both hands. "I can't see it, miss."

"It's under my skirt."

"Oh..." Stan was now 'getting' James Marlston's idea. "Oh, may I? Shall I get your ticket out for you?"

"If you could."

"Go on, Stan," said James Marlston, "it's up there, under her skirt."

Stan looked down, looked at the grey pleated skirt, the girl's knees and white socks. What an invitation! The so neatly dressed schoolgirl, her swinging skirt and him being invited to put his hand up into the skirt. He reached, his fingers touching the hem and then slipping under and rising up, lifting the pleats at the front as his fingers reached upwards.

The cardboard ticket was tucked right in between Zephyrine's lips. The gentlemen all knew. James Marlston might well have tucked it there, having taken it from the girl's blazer pocket, but they had all felt the dark green pasteboard in position, one corner very probably poking hard at the schoolgirl's swollen clitoris. She would be feeling it, as she would Stan's fingers coming to retrieve the ticket.

"Here it is -- in your, um, 'purse', miss." He seemed in no hurry to withdraw his hand. Were his fingers feeling rather more than just the ticket? He knew and she knew, but all the gentlemen could see was the conductor standing there with his hand up the girl's skirt. What they could also see was a significant bulge that had appeared at the front of Stan's trousers. He was not making any move to hide it.

"I'd better clip it." In Stan's hand a standard issue ticket clipper with its sharp punch to cut a hole in a ticket. Out from under Zephyrine's skirt came his hand with the cardboard ticket and he clipped it leaving a little hole crisply punched through the card. It was in the shape of a bell -- though to Hector's mind it did look remarkably like the knob at the end of, well, 'bell end' shaped penises like his own -- and Stan's!

"Not like that," said Zephyrine, "with your proper clipper."

All at once her hands came down from holding the luggage racks and were at work on the front of the conductor's trousers. Pushing buttons through eyelets and then reaching to pull out Stan's 'bell-ended', fleshy truncheon all hard and business like.

"This how you do it," she said, as she tucked the green cardboard ticket into Stan's foreskin, between purple helmet and wrinkled prepuce, pulling up the skin to mostly cover the ticket, in the process pulling Stan's balls out into the open, so they flopped down in their wrinkled sack, hanging there as his erect penis reared up.

The girl stepped back and giggled at the sight of Stan with her ticket tucked into his strongly erect organ. The little clipped bell shape mirroring the very much larger bell shape of his knob. And then she began to wank it. Pulling the foreskin up and down over the retained ticket. Stan's balls jangling around.

"It reminds me of tennis at Wimbledon," said James Marlston opening his fly.

Hector got the allusion. It was not just the moving balls, hardly as big as tennis balls of course, but the colours -- the purple knob and dark green of the ticket - the club colours of the 'All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club' down at Wimbledon Park - dark green and purple.

"I've really got to get on with my duties," said Stan. Though it would hardly do for him to walk down the corridor of the train with his penis exposed, however impressive it was.

"Not until you've 'done' my ticket," said Zephyrine, her fingers moving the faster and her other hand cupping the man's balls."

"I've been thinking," said Stan, "you mentioned you would really like a quiet and warm place to... appreciate this delightful young lady the more. Somewhere private and not so... public."

In fact, it had been Zephyrine who had said she would like such a place rather than the gentlemen -- though they did not at all disagree.

"The waiting room at the young lady's station... the station master is a friend of mine and I don't think he would be at all averse to arranging... one evening... you gentlemen could stop off and then catch the last train... if the young lady could see her way to being there late one evening. I could fix it with Alf. Nice warm stove in there. Frosted window glass. Locked door. All very private and..."

It was perhaps surprising, thought Hector, he would not have expected himself to react in quite that way. But there he was, penis out of his fly, pulling his skin up and down over his purple knob, his own 'bell end', watching a fully dressed schoolgirl masturbating another man's large penis; her small hand stroking, as her other hand fondled a substantial pair of heavy balls. And it was exciting, erotically arousing despite the girl not being undressed or even partially undressed. Yes, he knew she was knickerless; yes, he had felt that. It was, of course, the implication that the penis in her hands could so easily be his. Indeed, very likely would be later in the journey.

"I think it might be prudent..." said Stan.

Again, Hector knew what he meant. He produced a handkerchief, unfolded and handed it to Zephyrine. Had the girl been naked then it would have been lovely to see Stan spurt onto her bare skin. As it was, the likelihood without suitable restraint, the girl's grey uniform skirt and perhaps blouse, tie and blazer might have got very 'spermy'. A risk if the girl was particularly enthusiastic in her stroking that it might go 'everywhere'. Zephyrine draped the white cotton over the upright penis, hiding it, before stroking some more. Like a magic trick the sudden outpouring of semen was hidden from the gentlemen and Zephyrine's sight, though it was clear from the wetness appearing and welling through the cotton that something had very much happened within the handkerchief. Even more so when the handkerchief was whisked away to reveal the outcome of the magician's magic trick. There was a lot of the stuff. The dark green pasteboard was soaked. White stuff was even oozing through the little punched bell-shaped hole.

"Thank you, miss. If you want to try my waiting room idea..."

Indeed, the gentlemen would -- and so would Zephyrine. Arrangements would need to be made. It would require a great deal of co-ordination. It would be quite a night. What with Stan, the four gentlemen -- if all could make it -- and, presumably, Alf as well -- and of course Zephyrine (an absolutely essential ingredient of the evening).

With Stan departed, off on his ticket checking duties with his clipper -- the cardboard punching one, rather than the cardboard soaking one - it was time for other penises to be brought into play. Not that they had not been stroked quite a bit by their owners.

Zephyrine sat back down, mopping at her sticky fingers with the handkerchief and looking at the soaked ticket. "I shall keep that as a souvenir. Should I soak it some more? Get you all to 'clip' it. Tuck it into all of your skins in turn?"

Their 'clippers' were certainly all ready

"Oh, look!" exclaimed Zephyrine. And they all did. From the tip of Tom Headman's penis a significant blob of semen had issued and was starting to make its slow journey downwards.

"Is that for me?" asked the girl.

Well, it certainly was not for anyone else! And it had been produced by Zephyrine -- not directly of course. But she had had so much to do with its release. Tom Headman and Hector's penises rather prone to 'running.'

"Shall I lick it up?"

"Go on," said James Marlston.

With soaked handkerchief in one hand, wet ticket in the other, Zephyrine bent her head towards Tom Headman. All the gentlemen saw her pink tongue come out and its tip lick at the shiny bell end with its oozing white stuff. Their eyes wide in excitement, captivated by the sight of the pink tip of her tongue stroking the taut and shiny membrane of Tom Headman's engorged penishead. They saw the semen on her tongue, and saw her swallow before going right down and mouthing the turgid penis entire.

The gentlemen wanked as they watched, all keen for it to be their turn -- and it soon was. The schoolgirl making the rounds, one gentlemanly erection after another well into her mouth -- licking, sucking, stroking and teasing -- cock after cock. The almost fully dressed -- merely knickerless -- schoolgirl attending to their penises. Even if not naked, or with breasts exposed, her skirt was repeatedly flipped up and certainly many hands went between her legs. Soon it was not just the gentlemen who were 'on edge' -- close to orgasm -- but young Zephyrine as well. She was lain across knees, mature masculine hands took control of her and again went up her skirt whilst others pushed her tie out of the way, unbuttoned her blouse and searched out and fondled young breasts and perky nipples. Helpless on their laps, Zephyrine was forced into orgasm -- not that she did not want to be forced into that state!

And then, of course, she finished off all of the gentlemen. Such a pleasant little pastime to wile away a railway journey. Handkerchiefs were not needed. Zephyrine's hand was firm and stroking, but her mouth was securely clamped around swollen bell ends in turn: around their plums -- their soon to be 'juicy' plums -- her tongue very mobile across the taut membrane of their glans. Wonderfully mobile. First Tom Headman, then James Marlston and Frederick Trowse, with Hector completing the set. A goodly quantity of hot semen in the girl's tummy to keep the schoolgirl going until her mother poured her a nice hot cup of tea when she got home. In a China teacup -- so very different from her taking the gentlemen's semen. Much more dainty -- a sip at a time, not a whole mouthful! Her mother would have no idea at what Zephyrine got up to. Or her father, for that matter, waiting for her at her railway station. Perhaps if he got there early, he had sat in the waiting room reading a magazine, little realising what was planned for his young daughter in that very room.