The Journey Home

Tom sat on the train, thinking it had all gone wrong. Not only had it all gone wrong, but it had just got worse. Instead of being at the hotel with Kelly, he was on the train on his own. There had been no point going to the hotel after the concert, and what happened there. Instead he decided to take the train home, back to the north, to Leeds, to arrive in his home city for maybe two or three in the morning, at least saving the money for the hotel room. He had been sat on the train thinking he would get a bit of sleep, but then about 10 of them -- drunken middle-aged women - had all sat in the seats around him -- a hen party on its way home after visiting the capital for a good night out. It was obvious the good night out had included a lot of alcohol. Four had sat around the table opposite; two had sat on the same table as he was on. Why they couldn't sit somewhere else, away from him, he didn't know. Probably wanted to talk to their friends, or more likely shriek with laughter for the next three hours northwards. There was another two or three sat around the next table as well. No sleep, that was for sure.

The weekend had all started so well, with such high hopes. He had been dating Kelly for a couple of months. She was bubbly, blonde, slim and only an inch shorter than him. She was hot. But she took her time. They were getting on great, and had decided to travel to the concert, then spend the night at an hotel before travelling home the next morning. But it was more than that. It was the first time she had agreed to share a bed with him. It was the first time she was going to let him INSIDE her panties. She had told him on the train down she was on the pill. The hotel was going to be the first time they were going to have sex. She had given him a hand job, once. He had been allowed to put his hands on her panties, once. But this was going to be the first time they were going to go all the way. Until the concert.

The concert had been his birthday present to her. He was working so could afford the trip, while she was still a student at 19. He had been working for 18 months, at the grand age of 21, even living in his own small flat for independence. He had won multitudinous brownie points for booking the concert -- Kelly's favourite boy band. He reckoned at times she loved the boy band more than she would ever love anyone else! They were a bit better than the soppy cutesy sort that 13 year olds love, and he could put up with an evening of listening to them, especially if he was going to get his reward later...

It had all gone wrong. The band was good, and the evening was good. Until the encore. 4 guys singing and dancing, and getting a group of girls up on stage to dance with them through the final number. So the final number began, and they pointed at a group of three girls in the front row of the theatre. Security guards went into the audience to collect them. Then the disaster. The lead singer pointed at Kelly. She was ecstatic. Tom just remembered the rumours, of what happened to the girls who danced with them. Two security guards came to collect her. To be fair, they asked if she wanted to dance with the band, and she wanted it more than anything. Kelly and Tom had joked about the reputation the band had on the way down in the train. Tom said "Stop, please..." but the bigger of the two security guards -- much bigger than Tom - had told him they were always sent home in a taxi in the morning. Wherever they were from. And that was it. He had his dreams, and he had paid for the trip. And his girlfriend was going to be groupie for the night, gangbanged by the band and probably a few roadies as well. And he was getting nothing.

It hadn't been worth going to the hotel: he caught the last train home, north. Non-stop for three hours, then back to his flat. And now to make things worse stuck with a whole bunch of drunken women.

Tom looked at the women, and thought if they were a bit more sensible and sober some of them would be attractive. Most were in their thirties or forties, one on the other table perhaps late fifties, one on the third table perhaps early twenties. It looked like an office girls day out, which seemed to include a lot of drinking, the Lion King Show, a lot more drinking, and then bags of alcohol carried onto the train. Within ten minutes of being on the train, just as they were leaving Kings Cross Station his head was ringing. He noticed that he and this group of women were the only people in the carriage. It was going to be a long journey!

After a few minutes, Tom had another problem. His trousers were uncomfortable. The women were loud, they were drunk, they were drinking and they were also crude and ribald.

"You should have paid the taxidriver with a blow job," shrieked one to the lady sat next to Tom. Everyone laughed. Her ripost was quick.

"Didn't look like he would make it - reckon he would have had a heart attack when I finished with him!" More laughter. "Anyway I wanna see his cock before I decide whether I'm going to suck it!"

Another lady shouted out. "Why, you only suck big ones?"

Tom sneaked a look at the lady sat next to him. She was perhaps forty, outgoing, filling out a bit, but with short black hair. Dressed in a pair of black trousers and white blouse -- she had thrown her coat onto an empty seat.

The banter between the ladies continued for a bit, fuelled by the alcohol. They laughed about what size cocks they liked. They joked about men who had made them scream, and those who had been weak. For Tom it was difficult -- all these women talking so openly and brazenly about sex was having an effect on him. He had heard about hen parties, and seen women a bit like this on a documentary about late night drinking, but wondered whether it had all been exaggerated. It clearly hadn't.

The banter continued. The lady next to him shouted at one of the girls: "Hey Tracy, you prefer women any way, don't you? Which of us would you want to take to bed? What you want to do? Sit on their face, lick their pussy?"

There was a moment's quiet. One of the ladies on the table opposite, presumably Tracy, spoke. "Take on anyone of you if you want. If anyone's up for it!" She had clearly decided to brazen it out. The woman next to Tom replied.

"No-one's UP for it when it's two women. Unless you got a strap-on, I suppose!"

Another of the women on the opposite table, over the laughter, spoke. "I'd love to use a huge strap-on on our boss, the swine. Then take it home and use it on the old man..."

Tom kept his eyes down, his voice silent. But then there was a silent moment. And Tom shocked by the next thing he heard. Up to this moment it had been bad not screwing his girlfriend for the first time. Then being stuck on a train with a bunch of drunken women. The words he heard next made it a hundred times worse. It was from a lady on the table opposite. To the woman sat next to him. "Hey Nancy, there's a cute boy sat next to you. Wonder what sort of equipment he's got?"

Tom's first thought was that he knew the name of the woman sat next to him -- Nancy! But suddenly he was aware of what had followed...

And it got worse. Nancy turned to him. Spoke to him. "Hey, boy, how big is your cock when it's stiff?"

Tom mumbled. It was so difficult. So embarrassing. Part of Tom was okay with this. He knew he had seven inches, and thick as well. And women he'd been with in the past had admired it. It was the brazenness of it all, the embarrassment of it all...

Nancy wasn't to be stopped. "You want to show it to us? Let us have a good see. Course, Tracy might not be interested, but the rest of us..."

Tom whispered. "Please, no..."

Nancy wasn't finished. "Tell you what girls, let's have a look and have some fun with the kid."

Tom was stunned, but before he could speak, Nancy continued. "Get him on the table. On his back. We'll see what he's got." Before he could move Tom felt Nancy and the other woman on his table grab his arms, and pull him to his feet. He tried to struggle but the cramped space and his unwillingness to strike out hard at women stopped him getting away. A couple of the other women reached over and helped, and Tom found himself pulled onto the table, then manoeuvred so his head was against the window, his legs in the aisle of the train. The swaying of the train made him feel less secure.

Tom felt his arms and legs held firm, and despite his squirming and struggling was manoeuvred onto his back, unable to escape. "Please, stop, please it is uncomfortable, it hurts..." Tom's back hurt as his legs dropped to the floor, the edge of the table sticking into back. As he squirmed on the table he felt hands struggling with his trousers, undoing his belt, undoing his flies, pulling his trousers to his feet, off his feet, removing his shoes and socks at the same time. His boxers quickly followed, as did his t-shirt.

At last he was held, naked on the table, his arms pulled down over the edge, his feet touching the floor. "Please," he said, "It hurts. My back..."

Nancy now seemed to be in charge. "Well, pull your legs up to your chest, and stop struggling. Tracy, Lorna -- hold his ankles and pull them up so his back is okay." In his desire not to be hurt, Tom forgot to kick out, but let them raise his feet above his waist, towards his head.

There are a moment of quiet as Tom realised there was no help, no escape, as the women just held him on the table.

"Wow, look at that gorgeous cock." He didn't know who said it, but the raucous agreement touched him, and for a moment he felt proud, but just for a moment.

"Look at his little boyhole. Where's that strap-on when we need it..." said another voice, to all round laughter.

"Please, what are you going to do to me?" With a bit more clarity and moment to think, Tom was getting worried, frightened, as well as embarrassed that nothing was now hidden from these women. All he could hear was clickety clack of the train on the rails, all he could feel was the swaying of the train, making him feel less steady, adding to his fears.

"What's you name, sonny?" Nancy asked him. He told her.

"Tom, we're not going to hurt you -- just have a bit of fun with a cute boy with a gorgeous cock. Milk you a couple of times, explore hidden things." Nancy turned and asked if anyone had any Vaseline. She was handed a pot by someone, and put some on her finger. Tom couldn't quite see what was happening. But he felt it. He felt the finger on his asshole, then pushing into him. Slowly, but relentlessly. Fully into him.

It was strange, bizarre. It didn't hurt -- he just felt full. He felt violated -- no-one had ever done that to him before. And that no-one included Tom himself -- he'd never thought of it. He felt so embarrassed his asshole was being used like this. And he felt excited -- excited like he had never been before. All these women watching him. Complimenting his cock. And the finger inside him -- his cock twitched, hard as rock. The women laughed as he responded to what was happening to him. There was a little part of him which said he couldn't help it -- four hands were holding him tight on the table -- two bending his arms over the edge of the table, two holding his ankles, but another part that was honest -- he wouldn't move even if they let go.

As Nancy held her finger deep in his ass, she grasped his balls with her other hand and gently squeezed. She was almost offhand with him. "Nice set of balls," she said, paused. "Nice bit of totty. Let's see what he can do. Marge, jerk him off -- let's see what he can deliver."

As a hand grasped his cock, Tom realised what was going to happen. They were going to make him cum. It was so hot, and even more embarrassing. Tom had his eyes closed, but heard the voice whisper in his ear. "Not going to let you cum until you are begging for it. Like the sound of that?" Tom wasn't sure he did like the sound of that, but his cock did as it twitched in the hand that was holding it. He felt like he was totally humiliated, violated -- a finger in his ass, a hand grasping his balls, another grasping his cock, then expected to beg for it.

The lady -- Marge -- was good. She began to gently run her fingers up and down Tom's cock, almost exploring it to see what shape it had. She ran her finger over the tip of his cock, rubbing his pre-cum all over the tip. He felt the finger in his ass withdraw, then thrust hard into him. He knew for them it wasn't wholly sexual -- with the audience cheering, making crude comments, he was just a toy for them to play with. And they were enjoying the playing.

Suddenly the speed changed -- the finger was thrusting hard in and out of his ass. The hand was grasping his cock and sliding up and down. He felt his breath coming shorter, panting. His hips were thrusting up and down. He wouldn't last much longer. Then it stopped. The hand jerking him released him. The finger stopped thrusting in his ass. His balls were released. He was desperate -- he would have jerked himself off if he had a free hand. "Please..." he whispered.

"Please what," asked Nancy.

"Please let me cum."

It was Marge who spoke, although Tom wasn't sure which one Marge was. "What did I say?"

Tom remembered. "PLEASE, I BEG, PLEASE MAKE ME CUM..."

There was a pause -- Tom knew they were waiting for more. He wanted more. "Please, jerk my cock, please finger fuck my ass, please play with my balls. Please let me spurt..."

"That's very naughty language in the presence of ladies, young man. But we're nice. We'll do that, but I want a proper internal -- it's going to be two fingers this time..."

Tom felt Nancy pull her finger almost out, then felt another finger entering him, beside the other. It did hurt. It stretched him, but it was good. He felt the hands grasping his balls and cock. He felt the hand beginning to slide up and down his cock. It was so good. His hips were thrusting up to meet the hand, faster and faster, as the women cheered. Suddenly he cried out. Screamed out. Moaned long and hard, as he shot his cum out of his cock, emptied his balls, pumped over and over, as the women cheered. He seemed to pump over and over, unstopping, although he quickly finished when his balls were emptied. Relaxed, breathing heavy.

"Look at the mess here." Nancy was speaking again. "Have to do something with this." Tom felt a hand where his cum was. Suddenly he felt the fingers entering his mouth, as he breathed heavily. Suddenly he knew what they were doing -- they were making him eat his own cum. And he couldn't stop them. The embarrassment was excruciating, but he coped with the taste.

It was odd -- when it was over, they sat him back in his seat, and the other women went back to theirs. He was sat naked with Nancy next to him, the lady called Marge, the one in her late fifties he now realised, but still smart and attractive, sat opposite him. All the other ladies had returned to their seats and somehow were chatting normally, eating sandwiches, drinking wine.

Nancy was simply talking to him now as a friend, asking where he was going, why he was travelling alone at night. And he told them. About Kelly. The concert. How she had chosen to be a groupie rather than go with him. And how they were going to sleep together for the first time, and it hadn't happened. Nancy had even given him some wine to drink. She had told him they were a group of women who worked in an insurance office, perfectly respectable, most married, apart from Tracy who was in a civil partnership. Just that every so often they had a trip to London for a show, got a bit too drunk and could be a bit rowdy on the way back. Not that they had ever done anything like they had to him before. This time they had drunk a bit more than normal...

"Anyway, young man, you shouldn't be going around plotting to get a young lady in bed. That's a very naughty thing to do. Girls..." Nancy had raised her voice. "Do you know what Tom was planning to do this weekend. Planning to get his cock into his girlfriend for the first time. Very naughty."

There were calls of how naughty he was way. That he should be punished as the naughty boy his was. Tom was suddenly alarmed. He thought his ordeal was over. Suddenly he felt it was brewing up again. "What should we do to him?" cried Nancy.

"Give him a good spanking." Tom didn't see who suggested that, but it didn't matter -- he heard everyone agree. Suddenly he was in the middle of a scrum as they grabbed him again, pulled him, until he was leaning over the table, this time on his stomach. It felt odd, his body was on the table, but his cock was sort of under the table, the edge of the table resting in his pubic hair. He had struggled, but he couldn't escape, until two women were holding his arms over the side of the table so he couldn't escape.

"AAAAEEEEEEEE" Tom cried out as he felt a hand spank him hard. Then another, on his other cheek. It was ridiculous -- his cock was beginning to twitch again, a mixture of having been naked, and now spanked. Hard. It wasn't a gentle spanking.

Suddenly there was a whole stream of hands smacking his ass, different women stepping in to take their turn. Tom couldn't see, but his ass was looking bright red. He could certainly feel the stinging as his ass got treated to a rain of blows. "Please stop, it hurts, please." Tom felt tears running down his face.

Nancy spoke to him. "Stop? For what a naughty boy like you was going to do? I don't think so." The smacks continued. Tom lost count at about thirty. They didn't stop at thirty. Everyone wanted their go, some harder, some softer, but none seeming to show him any pity. The pain became excruciating, when he heard Nancy say "Stop. Think he has learnt his lesson." Tom's ass stung horribly, and if he could have seen it, was glowing bright red. Unashamedly, tears were running down his face.

The blows stopped, but a hand grasped his cock. He was being jerked off again. He was hard. His balls ached. The hands were very skilled -- within seconds he was moaning, suddenly crying out as he shot his load somewhere under the table.

They let him lie on the table until he was ready to move. The embarrassment was still high as they made crude comments about his ass, how he deserved the spanking, how they should have brought a strap on, how he was a good virile young man. When he did move he stood and walked a little way along the aisle of the train -- he felt he couldn't sit down. One of the women handed him his clothes and told him they would be arriving at the terminus in ten minutes.

Tom struggled to get his clothes on. There was only a pair of jeans, and t-shirt and trainers. That was all they had given him. His mobile phone was gone, as was his wallet. He had no socks, boxers. His keys were in his pocket. His luggage -- what little he had in a small holdall - was gone. And they were gone. The train was standing in the station -- he had to go home. It was a long walk -- a couple of miles -- he couldn't phone anyone, or get a taxi. As he left the station he saw the women disappearing in two taxis. He started to walk the other way, knowing it would be at least an hour before he got home...

It was 4.30am when Tom eventually got home. His feet were blistered. He was aching, and hurting. He was angry they had taken his wallet, his luggage, his phone. Tom slumped in a chair, cried, and fell asleep...

It was late morning when Tom woke. He was surprised he woke with his cock rock hard. He immediately remembered the previous night, the train journey -- and every thought caused his cock to twitch. It was ridiculous -- he had to jerk off before he could do anything else, it was so hot remembering.

As he made himself a bowl of cereal he heard something land through his letter box. He went to the hall to see the large letter. He opened it. He found his phone, with a message from Kelly saying the night had been better than ever it could be with him, and she was staying on as a personal assistant with the band, it was over. Tom had already resigned himself to that.