Classmates in a Caboose

"God help me!" he called, and collapsed, exhausted, onto her fine sweaty body. For a moment there was no sound in the caboose but the slow clickety-clack of the steel wheels on the rails beneath them.

"He came like a banshee," Lenore said and then, in a softer voice, "I think he might have been a virgin." She had stopped rubbing her clit.

Christie was kissing Robert's cheeks. "Did I just fuck you for the first time in your life?" she asked. "Am I your first piece of ass? Please say yes."

Despite his conversion Robert felt his cock soften and slip out of Christie. He moved off her body and lay on his side next to her on the bunk.

"Am I?" Christie wanted to know. Robert nodded and a huge smile spread over Christie's face. "Oh baby!" she cried and hugged his head. "You're so sexy with your quiet stuff. We teased you but I'm so happy to have been the one." She kissed his forehead and reached down and squeezed his wet cock. She said, "Tell me what it was like, to be a cute boy and fuck and be fucked for the first time. Did you feel it with your whole body? Did your cock feel good? What about your soul? Tell me, baby!"

Lenore laughed. "He's asleep," she said.

When Robert woke it took a few seconds for him to pull it all back together. He looked up and saw Lenore and Christie sitting together on one of the benches in the cupola. Christie was sitting cross-legged, Indian style, and Lenore's head was resting on her classmate's stomach and her legs were stretched out before her. Christie's eyes were closed and she was humming something tuneless and stroking Lenore's hair; Lenore absent-mindedly scratched one of her breasts and then rolled the nipple with her palm. Robert felt himself getting hard again and, when he looked down, he saw that his cock was still glistening.

"How long was I out?" he called. "Have we passed through Bedford?"

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," said Lenore. "You only dozed for fifteen minutes or so. We've been in the woods all the time. But it's a really gorgeous ride. Climb on up and look and don't you think about putting your clothes back on. It's too damn hot and, anyway, we're not done with you yet."

Robert climbed up onto the bench on the other side of the cupola from the two women and looked ahead down the length of the train. Ahead of them the line of boxcars bobbed and weaved like a line of steel elephants and the exhaust from the locomotive drifted off to the east. West wind, Robert thought. Christie opened her eyes and smiled at Robert. "Hey lover," she said.

Lenore looked up at Christie and then pulled her head down and kissed her, Christie arching her neck to accept the other woman's tongue. Then she—Lenore—climbed down from the bench in the cupola and stepped across to Robert. His legs were dangling over the side of the bench and she moved them apart and came up between them—there were deep foot-holds under the benches and she balanced easily in those and stroked Robert's thighs and balls and then his cock was in her hand and she was rubbing its head and Robert said, "Oh God."

"At least," Lenore said, "you're not saying the devil's making you hard." She moved her head forward until her lips were resting on the underside of Robert's penis which was once again leaking copious amounts of pre-cum; Lenore squeezed it lightly and rubbed the moisture onto her lips like Robert was a a big gawky tube of Burt's Bees, like his cock was the applicator.

"Mother, may I?" she asked.

"OK," said Robert, a little nervous. Then he added, "What're you gonna do?"

Now it was Christie's turn to laugh.

"This," Lenore said, and slipped his cock into her mouth.

Robert heard the horn on the diesel and looked up and saw that they were in Bedford—people were walking down the street and waiting in their cars for the train to pass. The crossing lights were flashing and the gates were lowered, protecting the train from cars and trucks at one crossing, from another Indiana Trailways bus at another. He looked down and watched Lenore—she'd pulled back a little so that just the head of his penis was in her mouth but she was making a home for it there, a sanctuary, a place of almost unbearable comfort and joy. Her lips, her tongue, the faint presence of her teeth against the top side. But especially her tongue. Lenore's tongue ran the show, it took Robert higher and higher, it furthered his education beyond any way he'd imagined—Lenore's quick pink tongue leapt up and down Robert's crazy farm boy silo. Up front the air horn blared again for the last street crossing in town, three long notes, a short one, and a final arcing sound that split the afternoon just as the locomotive reached the pavement. Robert felt the orgasm welling up through his legs and his skinny ass.

"Oh," he said and then he came and came and came and the release was sweet, like his cock was the best screen door in the world and it was flapping open, blowing open with incredible thwack after thwack. Lenore coughed once and Robert saw sperm running out of the corner of her mouth and dripping down the line of her jaw and off her chinny-chin-chin like a goat's beard. When she finally took his cock out of her mouth all he could do was stare at her come-smeared face. She was a beautiful woman; she smiled at him and swallowed.

"Was that the first time a girl's sucked your dick?" Lenore asked and Robert nodded. "I thought so," she said. "Did you like it?"

"Yes," Robert whispered.

"I thought so," she said. And then, "Come over here and I'll show you something." She kissed his penis once more—a long kiss with lots of tongue to it that made Robert jump a little—and then climbed down from where she's perched to blow him. Robert followed and they stood together at Christie's swaying feet.

"Come on down, girl," Lenore said. Christie clambered down from her seat and all three of them hugged and kissed, rubbing their faces together, Robert kissing them both for the first time though he'd already been fucked by one of them and been blown by the other—he tasted Lenore's pussy when he kissed Christie and he met his own taste when he kissed Lenore. He watched them as they kissed each other and realized that there was a history here, that this afternoon was not the first erotic moment for the two women.

The two of them sat in the last row of the lecture hall and they were the only students in that row. It was a small auditorium and Robert sat just below them. Occasionally Professor Hilroy would show films and the room would be dark then and now, as he stood naked in a swaying caboose hugging his naked classmates, Robert remembered hearing Lenore whisper and Christie breathe heavily in the row behind his. What are they doing, he'd wondered. Now he had an idea.

In their caboose Lenore said, to Robert, "Let me show you how to do girls like Christie."

They were all three reclining now on one of the bunks, Christie in the middle. Lenore took Robert's hand once again and guided his fingers through Christie's lush hair to her clit, as she had before. "This time do it like this," she said, and placed his middle and pointer fingers on either side. Christie was wet, slippery with excitement and a little sticky with Robert's jizz. "You get to make this woman come. Long strokes, cute boy." She kept her hand on Robert's with the lightest and most lovely touch Robert had ever felt. Together they mined the slope of Christie's little mountain and Christie's moans were the gold the two of them pulled out.

Christie whispered, "I'd like to have a cock in me." Robert was half hard and Lenore told him to put it in from behind so they could continue the hand jive. He lay on his side and Christie lay down next to him, facing away. He held her to him, a companionable spoon, and then she spread her legs and with a little effort Robert tucked his cock into her vagina and she smiled and breathed, "Yes." And then Lenore's hand was back on Robert's hand.

"I'm here to advise," she said, "but it's your fingers that'll do the trick—you touch her cause you got the magic touch." She was stroking his hand as he stroked both sides of Christie's clit. Robert was harder now and pumping from the rear but he felt like it was his hand that was going to come—caught between Christie's wet cunt and the dry pressure of Lenore's fingertips, Robert's hand ached with pleasure.

But it was Christie's time and she added her own hand to Lenore's on top of Robert's, emphasizing the angle and calling softly for a little more pushing just so. Then she came, quietly, almost sobbing her orgasm, her body arching and then collapsing as Robert and Lenore both kissed her face over and over.

Robert got up and opened the rear door of the caboose and stepped out onto the platform. It was summer—the whole country in bloom, a-tingle, green and hot—and he was naked and young and no longer a virgin. Holding onto the handrails he leaned out over the ballast, making a bow of his body, feeling the wind touch his arms and chest and dick. An old song came to him, from school, and he lifted his voice out into the summer afternoon: "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord," he sang, "He is tramping out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored." The train was moving very slowly, lurching along, and he swayed with it. Cicadas were in the trees and their wailing sounded electric to him, and beautiful.

Suddenly Christie's hand was on his shoulder. "You OK?" she asked.

"Children of the trees," he responded, "what music they make!"

"Come back in," she said, "and I'll show you how to do girls like Lenore."

A moment later Robert was lying on his back on the cool wood floor of the caboose and Lenore's was straddling him, on her knees, her pussy in his face. "Touch her like you touched me," Christie said, "only this time you're using your tongue."

Robert was remembering Christie's tongue and how long and articulate it was and he was feeling inadequate to the task before him. Christie read his mind—"It doesn't matter how big your tongue is," she said, "it's what you do with it. Like they say, cute boy, it's not the meat, it's the motion."

Robert looked up at Lenore's face which was swaying with the motion of the train. She was smiling down at him. "Mother, may I?" he asked.

"Yes, my child," she said. "Eat my pussy, please."

"Use your tongue on her pussy but don't be afraid to use your hands on her ass and tits and anywhere else you think would feel good," Christie said. And she added, "Lenore likes to have her tits rubbed. She doesn't like the pinching but she's got those big puffy nips and she likes to feel your fingers on them."

And Robert remembered how, sometimes in class, it was Christie he'd hear whispering and Lenore sighing hard in the dark, during a movie, in the row behind him.

He reached up and touched Lenore's left nipple with his fingertips. She sighed and then took his other hand and put his fingers in her mouth, sucking them. Robert's cock surged when he felt Lenore's tongue but he remembered that he was here to eat pussy—or to learn how to eat pussy—and in a second his own tongue was on the job and he let both his hands drift up her body. He cupped her breasts and then he ran his hands down her back, feeling her spine; he felt her sigh again when he stroked the pucker of her asshole.

In a little bit Lenore's breathing changed—as Robert had heard it change at the start of their caboose ride when it had been Christie's head between her thighs. Coming in for a landing, Robert thought, and looked up at the length of her, understanding her at that moment as an incredible, gracefully beautiful airliner, seeing himself as the guy in the ground-crew with the light sticks, guiding her in. He accelerated his licking but Lenore said No, just keep doing like you're doing. So he slowed back down and held her, rubbing his hands lightly over her ribs and breasts, until she screamed a little and then said Yes and then he felt her press against his teeth and throb and jolt like she was California and her pussy was the epicenter of a quite respectable little earthquake.

"You made me come, baby," she murmured to him, "you made me come."

Then she eased herself down Robert's body and he felt his cock slipping effortlessly into that pussy that he'd just been licking. "Don't move," she said, and she rode Robert's cock, smiling down at him, moving her hips slowly until he felt himself gathering for release. His cock was half soft, flexible, and this time coming was like easing through a narrow passageway or around a tight corner, the flexibility helping the cause; this time it was a weightless change, slippery and absolute.

The light was just starting to fade when the classmates rolled into Mitchell, Indiana. They eased in past a ladder factory, a dairy, and a video rental place and, as Robert had predicted, the train slowed down to the speed of a walking man or woman. They jumped off—Robert first, then Lenore, finally Christie—and landed in the dust and pebbles alongside the track. The train lurched along without them and Lenore said she was sorry to see it go. "This has been so good," she said, and all three classmates bumped into a clumsy embrace, touching hands and kissing each other's mouths.

They asked a kid on a bike where the bus station was and walked towards it—towards downtown—on streets of small houses with vegetable gardens and patches of flowers. People spoke from rocking chairs on porches and the classmates called greetings back. Christie stopped to speak to a woman who was pruning a bush that was festooned with white flowers with purple centers—the flowers were so gorgeous, she said, she'd never seen any like them. "This is Rose of Sharon," the woman said, and plucked one for Christie's hair. "You're a pretty girl," she said, "but where've you been to get so dirty?" Christie's clothes were streaked with grease and sweat and dirt had combined to make rivulets down her arms; Lenore and Robert looked the same. "Like the song says," Christie replied, "I been working on the railroad."

Her classmates had been waiting at the end of the yard. When she rejoined them, Lenore whispered, "You like that Rose of Sharon 'cause it's from a shrub that's as bushy as you are." This struck them all as incredibly funny and they giggled about it all the way across town. And Rose of Sharon was Christie's nickname, among them, for the rest of summer session. It was her sly nickname in class and her nickname as well when they'd meet of an evening in Robert's dorm room or Lenore's apartment to get naked and laugh and make love to each other.

At the bus station they pooled their money and had a dollar left over. They were lucky about the schedule—the Bloomington coach arrived a few minutes after they did and they arranged for the driver to stop at the lane where they'd left the car—he knew the spot well, he said, he used to go there to swim when he was in high school. Lenore, Robert, and Christie took the long bench seat at the very back, next to the restroom. An old man walked down the aisle, nodded to them, and sat down in the seat in front of them.

When the bus pulled out he turned around and said, "Y'all look like you been ridin' ol' dirty face." Robert laughed and said, "Yeah, we've been railroading some"; he and Lenore and Christie told the man how they'd found the caboose in the woods and how they'd ridden down from near Bloomington and that it had been a fine way to spend the afternoon. It was a good story but they left parts out.

The bus turned onto the well maintained two-lane, Indiana 37, and began to accelerate. There was still a little light in the sky off to the west and the driver turned off the aisle lights and said over the P.A. that there were reading lights over the seats if anyone wanted. A few passengers were in the first five or six rows but the classmates and the old man had the back to themselves.

The man smiled. Then he said, "Y'all look like you been ridin' the train but"—in a lower voice—"y'all smell like y'all been fuckin'."

There was a moment of silence but then Lenore said, pointing at Robert, "He sweetened both our snatches."

Christie said, "We fucked like rabbits all day long."

Lenore said, "My pussy aches from coming so much."

Christie said, "Sir, can I sit next to you for a little bit?" The man nodded.

Then Christie hoisted her tired body up and moved to the other half of the seat next to him. Then slowly she sank down a little bit. He shook his head slowly from side to side. Christie unbuttoned her shirt, loosened one side, and bared her breast. "You got to," she said. She squirmed closer and pulled his head close. "There!" she said. "There." Her hand moved behind his head and supported it while he kissed and sucked her nipple. Her fingers moved gently in his hair; the fingers of her other hand moved, just as gently, to his crotch. She unbuttoned his fly and pulled his cock out into the air—he was an old man but he was at attention. He sucked her and she stroked him and in a few minutes he came quietly in her fingers, gasping a little. She looked up and across the bus, and her lips came together and smiled mysteriously.

END