On the Train

I've never had an affair.

That was the only thing I could think about: I've never had an affair.

I'm 33. I've been with the same man since he was just a boy of 17. He sat behind me in chemistry and one day twirled his pencil in my hair. That was all it took, I told him years later. One playful moment and I was hooked. We went to the same college after high school and then he took his MBA at the same university I got my law degree. We were married two years after graduation, and he is the only man I've ever kissed. He's the only man who's ever seen me naked. He's the only man who's ever made me cum. I love him dearly, and every day the thought of him makes me smile.

Don't get me wrong; I'm human. I have my fantasies when I am alone. I like to look, and sometimes I like to day dream, but even if I start thinking about the young intern over in corporate law, or the bike messengers that sometimes wait around at reception, I end up thinking about my husband, and it's the thought of him and what we do together that is in my mind when I bring myself to orgasm. So even in my thoughts, I've remained faithful.

I've never had an affair.

This is all the more surprising that I'm having this thought, impaled on 9 inches of cock that I'd never seen before today.

* * * * *

I'm deathly afraid of flying. When I was a little girl my parents and I flew from Boston to Orlando. For days leading up to the trip all I could think of was the magic of Disney. It didn't even occur to me that I'd be taking a plane until my father asked, "Are you excited about flying in a Jumbo Jet?"

It meant nothing to me. I had no comprehension. I was 8 and I'd never even considered airplanes. When we drove to the airport I remember seeing these big fat machines lying around the grounds like beached whales. They just looked wrong.

We sat over the wing, and I found that every crank and tick of the engine, the hydraulic hum of the flaps, even the hiss of the air circulators terrified me. I cried the whole way. At first I howled. I raged and screamed and caused the most horrid fuss. Eventually I just broke down into sobs and moans and fell asleep.

My mother was traumatized.

We drove home from Florida.

I've never been in a plane since.

* * * * *

So when I got the job at Williams, Franklin and Moore, they asked me if I had any objections to some travelling with work. Depends on where to and how often, I said.

Once every other month, just to Washington, they told me.

Can I take the train, I asked?

I don't see why not, was the reply.

So once every other month I ride the rails from Boston to Washington DC, total travel time 7 hours. I plug in my laptop, I forward my desk to my cell phone, and I have an office day on the train. I find it remarkably productive, and stress free.

I like the train. There's something civilized about it: the seats are generous, and there's a lot of leg room, which at 5'10" is something I am in desperate need. It rolls along at a quiet, steady clip, weather is never a factor, and there is actually a view if you're so inclined, with the country gently sliding by in a rather complimentary fashion. And as I said, I can bury my head in work, taking a break for what I understand to be a much better meal than you'd get on a plane.

Today was a bit different. My breakfast meeting ran late, and I missed the usual train. I called home and told my husband I wouldn't be home until late, and not to worry I would take a cab home from the station. I took an afternoon train, and ended up sitting in a private passenger compartment. Two long comfortable bench seats facing one another, with a tinted glass obscuring the view in from the passenger walkway. It all seemed very European, and for a moment I wondered what it must be like to ride a train like this through the Alps or the Pyrenees. Unfortunately there was no where to plug in a lap top, so as the train pulled away from the station, I found myself looking out the window and seeing things I hadn't noticed on previous trips. It was as if I'd never been here before.

We couldn't have been more than 10 minutes from the station when the porter knocked on my compartment door and poked in his head. "Excuse me ma'am, but we seem to have over booked the train. Would you have any objection to sharing your compartment with one of our servicemen?"

For some reason when he said "servicemen" I pictured a train mechanic, but I could see standing just behind him the tan beret of an Army Ranger. "Of course," I said, somehow feeling that I was fulfilling a patriotic duty.

"Thanks very much, ma'am." The porter stepped aside with a bit of a flourish and held the sliding door for the man in uniform.

He stepped into the compartment and nodded at me. "Thank you for your generosity. I was starting to think the only way I was going to get a seat on this train was to ride the roof." He flashed a big bright smile at me and removed his beret.

I smiled back. "Well, there's plenty of room. It's foolish not share."

He took the seat across from me. "I appreciate it."

He was beautiful. His face looked like it had been chiselled from the proverbial granite. His shoulders were at a 90 degree angle to his muscular neck, and his barrel chest quickly tapered down to a slim waist. As he sat I could see the definition in his thighs through his dress pants. His uniform was crisp and clean, and I imagined that he'd ironed it himself that very morning. Probably after waking up at 4, running about a thousand miles and lifting a few tanks for a workout. He sat with no slouch at all. He had a short blonde crew cut, and light blue almost grey eyes. He was tanned, which seemed odd considering it was January.

"Are you just back from oversees?"

"Afghanistan."

I didn't know if it was impolite to ask what it was like over there, so I asked the next logical question. "Are you on your way home?"

He smiled again. "Yes, to my parents' house in Rockport." He undid the top button of his dress jacket. "I haven't been home in four years."

"Oh wow. You must be very excited."

"I am. I haven't seen anything but pictures. I can't wait to see my family and all my friends."

"They must be excited to see you too."

"Oh no doubt. No doubt." He looked out the window. "It's good to be home."

I looked out as well, uncrossing and crossing my legs as I shifted in my seat. I remembered I'd worn a short skirt and thigh high stockings. Looking down I realized that was on display. I looked up at the Ranger. He was still looking out the window. I leaned a little and pulled my skirt up my thigh to cover the top of my stockings. "What brought you home via Washington?"

He looked back at me from the window and blushed. "Oh, I had to attend a ceremony."

I looked at his left breast. It looked like he had every ribbon there ever was. "For one of those?"

He didn't look down. "No," he smiled some more, "I, uh, I was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor."

"You must be very proud."

He almost shook his head. "Yes, I am, but I'm proud of my men. I'm proud of the work we did over there, and the recognition I've received is due in no small part to what we accomplished as a team."

"Well I'm sure you'll hear it a thousand times, but we're all very grateful for what you've done."

"Thank you ma'am. That's very kind."

I smiled and looked into his eyes. I felt my heart pound. "You're welcome."

I looked down at the compartment floor. His boots shone like they were patent leather.

"You're travelling on business?" He nodded at my attire.

"Yes, I am in Washington every other month for a few days."

"A lawyer?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Grey suit."

I laughed. "Yeah we're a pretty dull bunch, fashion-wise."

"Well, I'm guessing the skirt isn't exactly regulation."

He was right; a lot of my thigh was on display. "Oh. Well, you know when you're tall."

"Understandable." He looked at the ring on my finger. "Your husband must miss you."

"He does. We miss each other. But it's only a few days, and it's only every other month."

"Must make for a great welcome home."

"It does. Sometimes we don't even make it home."

I couldn't believe I'd said it until after it was out of my mouth.

He smirked. "Yeah, I don't think I would wait until I got you home either."

"No?"

"No." I felt myself get warm.

I shifted in my seat and uncrossed and crossed my legs. I didn't hide the top of my stocking this time.

"That's very nice."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you."

"I was starting to forget what women looked like. All those burkhas. It was getting to the point that wrists were giving me erections."

"Well then, a flash of some stocking is the least I can do." I laughed a little.

"I'm sure you can do much more than that."

I swallowed.

He reached down to his pants and pressed them around the bulge of his erection. I could practically see it throb. It was massive.

"I did that?"

"You did."

"Just by showing some stocking."

"Yes ma'am."

I pushed my shoulders back against the bench seat and uncrossed my legs. I knew he could see up my skirt now. The tops of both stockings were showing. I left my legs apart.

His cock twitched in his pants and seemed to grow.

I undid two buttons on my blouse. The edge of my bra was showing. I spend a lot of money on my lingerie.

He licked his lips.

"If you undo another button, I'm going to show you something."

I undid another.

He stood up. I undid another.

He unbuckled his belt.

I undid the next button.

He opened his pants

I undid my last button.

He stepped toward me.

I arched my back, sticking my tits out of my undone shirt toward him.

He unzipped his pants and reached into his army issue boxers.

I put my hands on his hips.

He pulled his fat cock out.

I took it in my mouth.

I slurped at it right away. I tried to get as much in my mouth as I could. The head was big and fat and swollen and it made my mouth water. I hummed up and down his dick, licking underneath it as I sucked. I felt like a slut. I wanted to be his slut. I was going to do anything he wanted.

He reached down and slid his hands into the cups of my bra. He squeezed my tits and pulled at my nipples. I moaned as I bobbed my head up and down his shaft.

"Fuck that's good."

I looked up at him looking down at me. I ground my pussy on the edge of my seat. I was soaked.

I kept sucking his cock. Harder. Faster. I wanted his load in my mouth.

"Do you want it," he asked.

"Mmhmm," I said, my mouth full of hard cock.

"Are you wet for it?"

I took my mouth off his cock. "Soaked."

He quickly sat beside me, and pulled me across his lap. His pants were around his ankles. He reached up under my skirt and grabbed my Brazilian tanga. He ripped it off. I spent $28 on that. He lifted me by my waist and pulled my crotch to his cock. I could feel his cock wet from my mouth.

He shifted his hips and I moved mine to meet him. I felt the heat of his fat cock push into me. He was stretching me open. It barely fit. He waited a second, and looked up at me. I could imagine the fire in my eyes. He shoved the whole thing in at once.

I screamed.

His hands were on my ass, kneading it, squeezing it, pulling me onto his throbbing cock. I was soaking it. I dripped down and wet his balls. I was soaking the bench beneath us. I'd never had anything shoved so far up my cunt. I was already cumming and it hadn't been a minute. I moaned and felt his hand run up my back. He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back and bit my neck.

"Oh fuck yes."

"You like that?" He hissed in my ear. "You like that fat cock in you?"

"Oh god yes."

"You like getting rammed like this on the train?"

"Oh fuck. Please. Yes."

"You hot little bitch. Such a tight little cunt." He slammed up into me.

I was cumming some more. I shook all over his cock. "Oh you fucker. You fucking prick. Jesus what a fucking cock."

"Yeah that's it, slut. Fuck it now. Fuck it good. Make this fat fucking cock cum." He slapped my ass so hard it almost echoed in the cabin.

It had to be nine inches. It was probably as thick as my wrist. And it was making me feel like I'd never been fucked before. I loved it.

He grunted underneath me.

"That's it baby," I moaned. "Give it to me."

I fucked him faster. He grabbed my hips and started to use me. He was slamming me up and down on his cock.

He grunted again and again. He clenched his teeth. I screamed as loud as I could. I was cumming harder than I'd ever imagined. I pounded his shoulder with my fist. I could feel his cum launching into me, erupting from that massive dick. It was like a fire hydrant exploded inside me.

I collapsed onto him and felt my blouse sticking to me from my sweat.

He was still rock hard inside me.

I've never had an affair.