Non Consented Sex on a Train

This story is based on a true event. All participants are over the age of 18.

TRAIN SEX

I once had a very erotic experience, nonconsensual sex on a train. It wasn't a violent act. You might say I was just taking advantage of a situation that seemed to get out of hand. And then there was that interloper, well I'm getting ahead of myself.

I was an 18-year-old college student in my freshman year at a small midwestern college. A year earlier, I was a High School Varsity Wrestler offered an athletic scholarship to attend. Since my parents didn't have a pot to piss in, although we were a family of pissers, it was my only chance to get an education. I just had to make sure my ass didn't get whipped on the mat and kicked out of school. So far, it was working out.

A few days before the term started, I took a train from Grand Central Station in New York City to get to Indiana. When the first quarter vacation break was to take place, Mom sent me enough money to buy a train ticket to come home for ten days. I had a feeling she must have fucked some guy in a bar and rolled him for the cash, but I didn't say anything. I took the money and headed home the evening the quarter ended.

An attractive blond, wearing a short skirt and a white blouse that did little to hide her large breasts, probably five or six years older than me, was seated waiting there in the train station. Her long legs went on forever. A guy I thought to be her husband or perhaps her boyfriend was busy talking to her. I don't stick my nose in other people's business, so I just read my English Lit book figuring I'd get a little ahead once the 2nd quarter started.

Just before the train arrived, the guy accompanying the woman looked up and walked over to me.

"Hey bud, my name is Eric. Are you headed to New York on the 7:15?"

"Yep, all the way."

"Could I ask you a favor?"

"Sure."

"My wife gets a little dizzy on trains. I'm giving her some meds so she can sleep, but would you keep an eye on her so that no one bothers her?"

"Sure, no problem."

Eric went back to sit with his wife, and I continued my reading. A half-hour later, the station started vibrating as the old train pulled in for a ten minute stop. Those of us waiting inside, hearing the noise of arrival, got up and headed outside to the open tracks. The train slowed to a halt with all the screeches and whistles the brakes make.

The three of us found ourselves waiting in line to board the train. Eric introduced me to his wife.

"Cynthia, this is Dan."

"Please to meet ya," I said.

Since I was going home, I didn't have a suitcase. I offered to carry Cynthia's case up and into the train. It was surprisingly heavy.

I stood back to let her pass and then followed her up the train stairs. I could see she was wearing a lacy pink thong under the skirt. I'm not a voyeur. You couldn't help noticing as she climbed up the steep metal stairs ahead of me.

The train was almost empty. Cynthia walked about halfway down the aisle, then stopped and turned to me,

"Is this a good spot?"

"Sure. We can reverse the seat in front of us and have plenty of room."

Cynthia nodded her head, her long blond hair moving in unison as if choreographed. She stepped forward and took the window seat. After stowing her heavy bag in the overhead compartment, I sat in the aisle seat. There was an empty seat between us.

Once we got settled, since there was no one in the row in front of us, I flipped the backrest of the chair in front of us forward so we'd have a roomy place to stretch out if we so desired.

We made small talk for the first hour. That was when I got a good look at Eric's wife. Her honey-blond hair framed her face. Cynthia had the bluest of eyes and the whitest of skin with rosy cheeks. When she spoke, her face was animated. I could see her teeth were perfect and white as ivory. There was a hint of the sophisticated farm girl in her. She was a real dish.

Around 9 PM, the overhead lights dimmed. I imagined it was to help people fall asleep. Cynthia's blues eyes were already beginning to close. By 9:30, she was sound asleep. The coach was dark. The only illumination was the dim yellow safety bulbs along the floor down the aisle.

I wasn't sleepy. I usually stay up later. I was thinking of all the things I planned to do when I got back home. It would be fun to have a beer and pizza with my friends and reminisce. Maybe check in with my old girlfriend and take Dolly out to the Drive-In Movie, perhaps even getting her to do what she did best or pushing her again to go all the way.

I didn't expect it, but Cynthia, fully asleep, began to lean in my direction. Eventually, she reached out to hold me. I'm sure it was not purposeful, but in a short time, her hands were resting right on my dick. I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing, but my cock was getting more excited by the minute. I could feel the old stallion was beginning to drip, wetting my underwear.

Figuring I was in for a good thing, I eased her hands back and unzipped my fly. My dick weaseled the way through the slit in my underwear. Her hands quickly encircled my cock. In a few minutes, she was holding on for dear life. I put my jacket over what was going on so no one would notice even though it was reasonably dark. Only a few people were seated in the car. None were in our vicinity.

Meanwhile, she seemed to be inching closer, burrowing under my jacket until her face was on top of her hands. I suppose it was a reflex. She moaned,

"Oh, Eric," and took my penis into her lovely mouth.

She sucked me for a while. Her mouth was warm. I could feel her teeth against my cock's head. My precum started flowing. She must have tasted it because she said in sleepy words,

"Oh, yes, Eric, fuck me."

She leaned back, releasing my dick and parted her legs. Her short skirt had a slit that opened. Once more, I could see Cynthia's thin pink thong. I realized if I just pushed the thong strap to the left or right, I could slip my penis inside.

My cock was more than ready. I carefully lifted the thong. As the train passed a lit station, I was able to see Cynthia's swollen pouty labia lips. As the outside light kept flashing, I kept gazing at her wet pussy until I just couldn't resist. I leaned forward in the darkness and covered her with my body. My hand cupped her breast, and my dick, like a launched torpedo, found it's way right inside her vagina.

I took my sweet time, making slow movements, not making any noise except for the swish-swish of my cock going in and out of her very wet pussy. The excitement was too much to bear. I couldn't contain myself and came much too quickly. I paused and let my dick do its work, squeezing out a sizable load of the old gooey matter deep inside her.

She moaned, what I interpreted as some sign of satisfaction, and fell into a deeper sleep. Eventually, sensing a conductor was passing through the car, I covered her back up with her skirt and laid my jacket on top. I sat up as the conductor shouted,

"Next stop," but I couldn't understand what else he said.

I reached into her purse and took out a few Kleenex. Assured no one was looking, I wiped my cum that was overflowing onto her thighs and tried to clean her up. When I dabbed the Kleenex into her vagina, it tore, and a wad of tissue was left inside. What could I do? I pushed it gently inside and left the tissue plug in place, hoping it would eventually fall out. I adjusted her clothes, so everything was back in place. She lay there so sweetly with her mouth wide open as she slept.

Oh damn, I had to pee. I left Cynthia there and made my way down the aisle. The car was jerking and swaying. When I got to the bathroom at the end of the corridor, the men's room door was locked. I pressed my knees together and waited.

After a few minutes, the door opened. A tall guy came out of the bathroom. I stood back so he could pass. The bathroom was ancient and didn't smell inviting. I pissed quickly, rinsed my hands, and wiped my cummy dick off with a damp piece of toilet paper.

I opened the door and headed back to my seat. To my surprise, I almost didn't recognize it because someone was standing there between the two bench seats. It was the tall guy who came out of the bathroom. He'd already put his cock into Cynthia's open mouth.

She seemed oblivious, but he was face fucking her slowly so as not to wake her.

"Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Hold on," he muttered, "Let me finish."

He stopped his fucking at that moment and froze as his dick filled her mouth with his warm whip cream. As he pulled out, Cynthia coughed a little and then resumed snoring after a few quick gulps.

"Get the fuck out of here," I said."

"Oh," said the guy, "you can fuck her, and I can't even get a fucking blow job. Fuck you!"

He pushed past me and moved to the rear of the train. I arranged my jacket over Cynthia. Perhaps due to her meds, she was oblivious to the two transgressions and continued to sleep.

I awoke when we arrived in Buffalo, the sharp smell of fresh coffee filled the coach. Cynthia seemed to stir as well.

"Are you ok?" I asked.

"Oh yes, I had the most wonderful romantic dream."

"Really."

"I dreamt I was a Princess turned to stone, and a fine Prince stopped in a snowstorm, kissed me, and broke the magic spell."

"Oh, how nice."

We got into Grand Central Station at 7:15. We prepared to disembark. I didn't give her my name and number as I thought that wouldn't be cool, but she handed me her business card and told me to stop to visit her and Eric when I got back in Indiana.

She leaned forward to kiss my cheek,

"You, sir, are a perfect gentleman!"

Then she started to cough a little. She rummaged in her purse for a Kleenex, took one out, and spit something into it. As she looked back at me, a strange look came over her face.

I said goodbye and disembarked. I didn't offer to carry Cynthia's heavy suitcase. Maybe the blow job guy would come to her rescue. I got out of there as fast as I could before she caught on to what she slept through.

Of course, I never went to visit Cynthia and Eric. I figured I'd gotten to know her well enough on the train. Just before graduating, I caught a glimpse of her and a small child leaving the McDonalds. When she saw me, she seemed to hurry away.

Unexpected encounters happen every day. We tend to forget most of them. The sexual encounters stay with, those we do not easily forget. Do I feel guilty over what happened on the train? Sure, I should have never left her alone. As for my actions, taking advantage of her, well, what would you have done?