SEX ON THE RAILS
The most unforgettable occurrence, sexually at least, of my dull career happened on a train ride to San Francisco in June 1992. I never thought these things happened outside of XXX movies, but I'm here to tell you they do! When I boarded Amtrak in Albany, I wandered into the first car looking for a spare seat. Since it would be an all night ride, I was hopeful to find two coach seats vacant so I could stretch out. I spotted two and plopped down, put my briefcase above and started to settle in. Then an elderly gentleman sitting alone across the aisle told me that the window seat was occupied by a young woman who was down in the diner car. His eyebrows lifted noticeably when he told me I might want to share the seat since she was rather good looking. I slid over to the aisle seat, wondering how accurate his interpretation would be.
About half an hour later the woman appeared and I no longer questioned the old gentleman's judgement. She was a knock-out. Long black hair, dark complexion (I later learned she was Puerto Rican), long slender legs and perfect figure. To make things more intriguing, she had on a tight, short-short black and white checked skirt, white transparent nylons, dark cowboy boots, and an extremely flattering tight white blouse. Aside one nostril was a diamond nose stud and her highly-glossed red lips smiled warmly to me as she excused herself to slip into her seat. No problem, Mam!, I thought, and I spoke to her. After she sat down, that tight skirt shifting up even more on her upper leg, she put out her hand and said her name was Jennifer. I shook her hand, felt a warm squeeze, and introduced myself.
Down the rails we sped and I soon found out that my seat-mate was a talkative, sensitive and warm individual. She was 27, a cocktail waitress who claimed to be making over $50,000 a year at her profession. She was in a training program to earn a degree in accounting, was divorced with no children, had traveled to 48 states and lived in nine of them. A well-rounded, aggressive, wonderful person. And, of course, strikingly beautiful. I liked her and we both enjoyed the long conversation. We had a couple of beers and relaxed.
About 10:30 the lights went out in the car, signaling the time to think about sleep. It would be a long night and already the foot traffic down the aisle had slowed considerably. Eventually, with our pillows, Jennifer and I dozed off as best as one can seated upright on a moving train. The seats had leg rests which pulled up and the seats leaned back somewhat, providing a bit of comfort.
About 2:30 a.m., somewhere in northern California, I had one of the many partial awakenings I experienced throughout the night. But this time something was different. Jennifer, still sound asleep with her coat laid over her lap and legs, had shifted toward me, her head against my shoulder and I was astonished to realize her hand was open and resting directly on my crotch. Like most men, I sleep with a stiff hard-on and that was the case as I looked down at Jennifer's long fingers resting on the lump in my jeans. That realization pulled me back into reality mighty quick and my mind raced as I began to weigh the options before me. What the hell should I do? I was sure Jennifer's position was an unconscious act but, still, I was enjoying her hand on my cock. It was dark in the car and the old man across the aisle was snoring loudly. Nobody else was visible.
After what seemed like hours, I had made my decision. Softly, I placed my hand on top of Jennifer's, squeezing it ever so gently. To my delight--and apprehension--she stirred slightly, then all was still. A moment later I felt her fingers move somewhat, as if attempting to discern what they had found. The realization must have worked its way from finger to brain because I then felt her hand tighten a bit around my erect penis, giving it a soft squeeze. I returned the favor by squeezing her hand again.
It was almost a minute before anything else happened. We just laid there, both fully aware of our position and the communication which was going between us. Then Jennifer shifted her hand once again, this time moving her fingers so they clutched my penis through the jeans as if she was attempting to discern the shape through the fabric. Then she gave my rod a couple of familiar up-and-down tugs, indicating to me she had a definite interest in her late-night trainride discovery. I was elated.
The next motion was Jennifer's as well. She reached down, tugged at her coat and pulled it over my lap. Under the coat I could feel her parting my fly and opening the Levis buttons of my pants. Her hand slid in to fondle my cock through my shorts and then she withdrew to unbuckle my belt and remaining buttons. At this moment I thought I'd aid the process and some tension in my legs allowed me to lift my butt up a bit so Levis and shorts could be shoved down somewhat.
That accomplished, Jennifer slowly moved her hand toward my crotch again, this time with deliberate caressing and teasing motions. She ran her finger tips through my pubic hair, down the side of my thigh between the leg and scrotum, then up over my balls. She paused to cup them in her hand, hefting them as if to determine their weight. When her palm left my nuts, fingers inched upward and encircled my throbbing cock. Ever so lightly, she brought her fingers up, trying to picture what she had by her touch, like a blind person maps a person's face by feeling it. Up the fingers slid, over protruding veins to the rim. The index finger traced it's location, all the way around, pausing briefly underneath to venture upward to the flared opening. At that point she found a droplet of pre-cum which she gently smeared around the tip. Then the finger continued its tracing of the rim. When it had returned to its starting place, the rest of her fingers joined in again, slipping around the shaft to clutch it firmly.
At this moment, I thought I'd continue the adventure by reaching down with my left hand to probe toward Jennifer's passion pit. I encountered absolutely no resistance as I reached the edge of her miniskirt and pulled it back the inch or so necessary to reveal the juncture of her legs. Her panty hose and panties were in place, but I duplicated her motions by letting my fingers massage her through the fabric. I could detect the warmth and feel the springiness of pubic hair beneath.
After a few moments, Jennifer released me and reached down to slip her nylons and panties nearly to her knees, allowing me easy access. I caught a brief glimpse of the dark patch before she tugged part of her coat back to conceal what was happening. Her hand resumed its position on my anxious pole and mine returned to her now bare snatch. Oh, what a snatch it was. I did as she had done, explored its every part with my fingers. My breath quickened as I discovered large inner lips protruding from the closed crack, signaling some fun that awaited by fondling her expressive folds of skin. After tracing its exterior, my first two fingers spread the large lips and one finger slid down past the tip of her clitoris toward the opening. Since Jennifer could not spread her legs far because of our surroundings and the restraints of panties and nylons at the knees, I could only maneuver a finger or two down her gash. When they reached the hole, they were greeted with her welcome dampness. Fingers now lubricated, they slid up and down her slit, spreading the glorious goo everywhere. Each time a finger slipped past the tip of her clit, I could sense the electricity my motions were producing and within a short time Jennifer had stretched her legs so they could assume some of the sexual tension that was building.
By this time, Jennifer had begun regular stroking motions on my hard cock, making the coat bob up and down. Oh, the sensations she was able to initiate! We matched one another, move by move, stroking each other's organs in affectionate bliss. Little did the other passengers suspect what was happening only a few feet away! Almost strangers were jerking one another off, equally oblivious to their surroundings.
This petting continued for probably half an hour when it became apparent to me that my cock couldn't hold back its load any longer. By this time Jennifer had begun small thrusting motions, meeting my moving fingers with her own forces. I was tingling all over with this raging beauty fucking my hand while she was transferring her excitement directly to my own cock. I fumbled for my pocket, found a Kleenex with my right hand and slipped it under the coat and up to the tip of my penis. I got there just in time because the juices began swelling up and through, filling the Kleenex beyond its capacity. Jennifer's hand, which had slowed to match the spurting of my rod, became drenched in cum but she continued to ride up and down with my wetness as an added bonus.
While I was cumming, I noticed Jennifer's body become even more tense and within moments of my own explosion, I had her raring her hips upward, squeezing my hand and fingers with her soft thighs, her cunt convulsing in pleasure. My hand, too, was drenched.
For several minutes we were motionless, hands and crotches wet but pleased. Jennifer snuggled her head closer, trying to express her contentment as best as the environment would allow. I responded with a gentle finger squeeze of her pussy. Soon, however, it became apparent we had some major cleaning up to do so Jennifer whispered she had some more Kleenex in her purse. We tended to necessities, kissed, and fell asleep again. The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and I don't recall even arousing slightly.
By 6 a.m. the car was light again and Jennifer and I awoke at nearly the same time. After exchanging grins, we confessed that the night's "sleep" had made us hungry. Pit stops at the washrooms prepared us for the 6:30 opening of the diner and we were eating a hot breakfast as we rolled into Sacramento. It wasn't much longer until the Oakland terminal was alongside and I had to detrain to catch the bus to San Francisco. Jennifer and I had already said our goodbys and she was in the smoking lounge when I left. She was traveling as far as Salinas where a friend was picking her up for the trip over the mountains to Monterey. I didn't learn her last name, and I'm certain I'll never see her again. But that evening we spent together will never leave my memory, as it has to be one of the most intimate exchanges I've ever experienced. This beautiful woman was one in a million--she was affectionate, expressive, not afraid of her body or its feelings. A remarkable young woman; A woman who I'll cherish and carry with me forever.
--Contributed by the former SOLO webmaster, Dave.