Late for the Train -

It had all been about avoiding mess but now that she had avoided that, having orally drained the gentlemen, she was starting to regret not having vaginally engaged with their rather nice penises. Eleanor was still aroused but she had rather seen to the men to ensure they were not. They had all cum in her mouth, their balls now drained. An opportunity lost. They would no longer be capable.

"I'm sorry we couldn't... you couldn't... I'm sure you'd all have liked to have fucked me properly, but I'm not on the Pill and... you know. Had you condoms... but you hadn't had you?" A bit late to ask. Wishful thinking -- if too late.

The men shook their heads.

"Actually," said Mr Bowcock, "to be honest, I've had the Snip so don't need such things anymore. We thought we'd had enough children after Mary and then Simon. I could have... but your mouth... just perfect!"

"Me too," said Mr Brent. "Three daughters quite enough."

"Actually," said Mr Myford, "As it happens, I'm the same. Look you can see the scar," he undid his fly again, and opened his trousers. All done in a so matter of fact and casual way. He lifted his scrotum and there was, indeed, a faint scar. "One daughter, two boys. These two fellows have done their duty. Time to be retired!"

"Snap," added Mr Cuthbert, completing the quartet, "Some years ago. So, a full house, young lady. No babies from us! Though my wife... four daughters. Too many!" A wide smile, "Definitely too many daughters. A house full of women..."

"Oh," said Eleanor. She had just opened herself up to be fucked. Really opened herself. Surprising in a way the men had not mentioned that before. She had just rather implied, perhaps more than implied, were it not for the lack of condoms she would already have fucked. And now, they were suddenly not a needed item -- or items -- at all. Not one. All the four gentlemen 'safe' to be fucked. In her mind the thought - could the four of them get erections again so quickly, still more, produce semen again? Though it was turgid penises she wanted not cum. Her interest much more in a stiff 'prick' than what it produced. They were not young lads with ever stiffening penises, but mature men, fathers of daughters and sons, not at all in the first flush of youth.

It was unlikely, very unlikely they could do anything of the sort so quickly. The train, though, was slowing for a station, not a time for such things, and Mr Myford's penis had to be tucked away. So too had white panties, slowly drying in the sunshine, to be hidden away. It would surprise any new addition to the compartment to see a pair of knickers sitting, with a wet patch, on the little window table. But when the new occupants of the compartment did enter, they did not see them as they had duly been tucked away in Eleanor's suitcase. Perhaps she should have put them on, but the wet patch was still -- wet.

The new people were a young couple who sat opposite each other, sometimes holding hands. A pleasing pair and Eleanor was amused to see how pleasant her four gentlemen clearly found the young lady. Pretty with dark curly hair, upturned nose and rosebud mouth, but, she thought, what they most liked was her bosom. A low-cut blouse very nicely showed her cleavage and plenty of it. Men do like to see that, and Eleanor saw their occasional glances. Despite having seen her own pair entire, indeed handled them through the thin material of her bra, they were clearly more than happy to contemplate a second pair.

The couple stayed only until the next station stop, just going from one town to the next. Perhaps for a day out. Perhaps for something more.

"What a charming couple," said Mr Bowcock. "A nice pair."

Eleanor choked back a giggle, "I saw you looking." She reached in her case and handed her panties over to be placed back by the window to continue to dry. The gentlemen seemed very happy to do that for her.

"Ah, hmm, um, well. Not as nice a pair as yours, my dear!"

"Rather a lot showing. I'd have to undo quite a few buttons on my frock to achieve..." And Eleanor tried. Her fingers undoing buttons, exposing the swell of her creamy breasts and her lacy bra, even pushing her breasts together to enhance her cleavage.

"Very nice indeed," said Mr Cuthbert.

"They looked like they wanted to do more than hold hands," said Eleanor. "They had no idea we would not have minded them doing all sorts of things. You gentlemen, are very good at helping young ladies undress or dress, holding their clothes and so on; making room for them to make love -- copulate."

"We'd have been delighted to assist!"

"And watch," said Eleanor. "Can you imagine if, having been just holding hands, the young woman had asked us all if we minded her holding her boyfriend's penis? A bit greedy, I know, after all I've already seen four today! Watching her getting it out all stiff and then stroking it. Perhaps sucking it. Are you going to get yours out for me again? I think they've gone hard again. Show me!"

What an instruction from a young lady and how rather wonderful it would be to comply. Four mature business gentlemen, who might well have together stood at the stalls and pulled four floppy penises out to wee together, now with as little concern, were about to unbutton and bringing out the same organs only all swollen. Surely, they were not going to emit the other fluid -- again?

Was Miss Eleanor Andrews going to wank them, or just watch them wank; was she going to suck as she had done before; or... surely not in her pretty frock...

The gentlemen reached down towards their flies.

"Shall we do what they should have done, shall we fuck?"

"Eleanor, really! Language!" Mr Bowcock looking quite cross.

"Please... please get your penises out again."

The gentlemen complied. How could they refuse such a request from a young lady, and they were all, if not stiff, certainly stiff-ish.

"I think I'll give them all a little suck first. Do you think that delightful girl might have given her boyfriend a suck first had they... I bet you'd like to have seen that! Now be careful not to get any semen on my frock, especially you, Mr Cuthbert!"

No kneeling of course, just Eleanor bending from the waist to suck. And nothing but a pretty girl in a dress to see, now her body was all hidden in her yellow, rather voluminous frock. Eleanor going from one penis to another, a circuit of four, repeating what she had done before but not fully exercising the penises. Not making them come.

Nothing to see, either, when she mounted, having completed her fellation round, merely settling down on one of the gentlemen's laps, just sitting down upon him, spreading her frock all around but ensuring the now turgid penis touched flesh, indeed flesh at the top of her thighs beyond her stocking tops, so with a bit of wriggling on her part she could manoeuvre the upright male organ into her rather wet, rather squishy female hole and push down. Wisely she chose Mr Cuthbert before his leaky penis had a chance to... leak.

Slowly she pushed Mr Cuthbert's erection up into her. She was facing away from him, looking straight at Mr Bowcock and his ruler straight, undeniably long, pointed penis.

"I wonder," she said but did not finish the sentence. Even as she settled fully down on Mr Cuthbert she bent forward and took Mr Bowcock's knob back into her mouth. Reaching out with her hands she also took hold of Mr Brent and Mr Myford's penises. A young woman holding or otherwise exercising no less than four cocks.

"I've never done this before," she said, withdrawing her mouth to speak, and her hands as well but starting to ride Mr Cuthbert. "Do you think many women have... um... held so many cocks at one time. Do you think any of your daughters..."

"I hope not," said Mr Cuthbert behind her.

"So, it's all right for me to do that, but not one of your daughters?"

"I didn't mean. Um, two are married so it wouldn't..."

"But you are married, Mr Cuthbert, and are certainly fucking me!"

She had him. His penis was right up inside her. She had them. Double standards. "I'm sure Mr Bowcock, Mr Myford and Mr Brent would all like to see your daughters naked. They are pretty, aren't they?"

"Well, yes..."

"And fuck them. Four lovely young women and three gentlemen. Which do you think they would want to fuck first?"

She was sliding up and down Mr Cuthbert's erection as she talked. Poor Mr Cuthbert being made to talk about his daughters as Eleanor fucked him. If she kept it up, he was going to spurt into her still talking about his daughters. His semen flowing into a girl as young as his daughters.

"I'd rather not think..."

Eleanor was not letting go. Not of his penis or the topic, "Which one, Mr Cuthbert? Which one would your colleagues most like to fuck?"

"I suppose, Charlotte, she's the youngest and a virgin. Nineteen."

"Do you know that for sure? That she's a virgin."

"No, but I think so."

"What she like?"

"Not tall, dark curly hair, kept long, brown eyes..."

"Breasts?"

A pause, Mr Cuthbert clearly having a little trouble with the conversation, "Um, little breasts."

"Have you seen them? Do you really know..." Eleanor was pushing him. Enjoying what she was doing. Making him talk about his daughters as he fucked her. And he was, or at least she was. It was Eleanor doing the fucking, moving her hot, wet and close fitting sheath up and down his turgid organ.

"Yes. We're not a family who worries too much about covering up, going to and from the bathroom, so yes."

Eleanor glanced at the other gentlemen. Clearly, they rather liked the idea of a household of five naked women -- none of them their own daughters. Liked the idea of seeing them. And what would Mr Cuthbert's daughters think of seeing him now? Would they think Eleanor was just sitting on his lap in her pretty frock. Her movement up and down was slow. Would Mr Cuthbert's daughters even know? The idea of sitting on Mr Cuthbert's lap in his very own sitting room came to Eleanor; and then his daughters all coming in and starting to talk. Mr Cuthbert would be frozen in perhaps panic. But would she keep moving, keep stroking his penis inside her? Would it stay hard and aroused? Might she be able to bring it off inside her whilst all around Mr Cuthbert's daughters talked gaily away. Would he be able to stifle a gasp, a moan or even a groan as he helplessly came -- brought off by Eleanor -- right in front of his own lovely daughters. They having no idea their father's semen was passing into the young lady on his lap. All rather improbable, but exciting. Would he be able to surreptitiously button up his softened penis under her? Would she be able to rise as if nothing had happened. Mr Cuthbert's daughters unaware at the creamy semen starting to dribble down her thighs under her frock.

But there were no daughters watching, just three other mature gentlemen. Not sitting demurely with hands in laps but with strong, enthusiastic and exposed very male organs rising from their laps! But like the imagined daughters not one of them saw Mr Cuthbert's spurt inside Eleanor, but they knew when it was happening. He neither stifled a gasp or a moan, nor even a groan. He was a little vocal.

Eleanor had tried to ensure Mr Cuthbert had come well up inside her. She did not want the dribbling down her thighs she had imagined with the daughters; she did not want Mr Cuthbert's semen drenching her stocking tops or getting her frock wet and drying all hard and crusty; she did not want it dribbling out before another cock had 'bunged' her, both for her own frocks sake and so it would also not make the front of the next gentleman's trousers all messy. Her clear thought and expectation, given this would be each of the gentlemen's second ejaculation in an hour, that it was unlikely there would be too much semen. The gentlemen's 'reservoirs' would not have refilled. Perhaps between them they would only manage the equivalent of a single ejaculation. How even less would come out if she had the opportunity to get them to harden and come a third time in another hour or two. But she would be off the train and at the wedding by then.

Who next? Should she choose rather than allow the gentlemen? Perhaps she should simply have got up off Mr Cuthbert and crossed the compartment to Mr Bowcock, but instead she pulled herself upwards and turned to Mr Brent and his long, outward-curving cock. It stood up from his fly without any of his ginger curls showing. She caught him by surprise, putting a knee either side of him and getting up on the seat facing him, settling her frock around her. He, like the other gentlemen had been looking at Mr Cuthbert's suddenly revealed still erect cock. All girl-wet and cummy. A swift search under her frock for Mr Brent's erection, holding it ready, and then she was lowering herself, pushing his knob upwards into herself, sending it up to meet her cervix and Mr Cuthbert's recently ejaculated cum. Very much pushing a 'bung' into herself to prevent egress of that semen.

"Mmmm!" Eleanor was enjoying herself. A not quite endless supply of cock. Not at all what she had expected to do that morning; not at all what she had expected to do on the train; not at all what she had ever done before -- not with more than a single young man and certainly not with four so mature gentlemen. She grinned at Mr Brent there as she sat upon him, very much on his lap, and he smiled back. Should she kiss him? Should she push her tongue into his mouth? Kiss him as she would have done the young man. He had his hands on her hips, through her yellow frock, and was really rather bouncing her up and down, so her vagina was really travelling up and down his cock, or was it his cock that was travelling up and down her vagina -- or both? It meant his face and her face, his lips and her lips, were not staying in close proximity making kissing difficult. Why the movement? Perhaps Mr Brent was concerned he might not come. That he might, despite a firm erection, not be able to go over the edge a second time and ejaculate. Or was he just so excited to be fucking a girl so much younger than his daughters? Or at least she assumed she was younger, she did not actually know, so she asked him. And they were, all three of them, even if the youngest was only by a few months.

"Do any of them have ginger hair too?"

A second gentleman being fucked whilst being made to talk about his own daughters. Was Eleanor being deliberately naughty?

"Err, both Clare and Janet."

"How fiery, or a more muted auburn?"

"Janet is the brightest -- both in hair and intelligence!"

"Pretty. I'm sure your colleagues also want to know how ginger she is down below. You know, where I'm all blond curls and you are, as I'm sure you are aware, in between at this very moment!"

No doubt Mr Brent very much knew where he was or rather his penis was and just how delightful were Eleanor's curls. But it seemed he did not how Janet or Clare were between their legs. Unlike Mr Cuthbert the family did not take a relaxed view on nakedness in the home. Bath time, bathing his girls a long time back and well before... a sprouting.

"Oh pity, it'd have been better to know, though I expect Mr Myford and Mr Bowcock can imagine. I'm sure they can imagine each pushing their big penises into masses of ginger curls, into hot wetness and on." She giggled, it was quite obvious the two men were imagining that just as she spoke, their hands sliding their skin, masturbating themselves to her words and their thoughts. "Are they tall girls, Mr Brent, long legs?"

"Err, yes, but I'd rather not talk about... you are just so lovely Eleanor. I do like your frock."

"Oh no, Mr Brent don't change the subject. We are talking about your daughters, Clare, Janet and..."

"Belinda, the youngest."

"Just a bit older than me. Not auburn?"

"No, like you, very like you."

"How like. Are her breasts..."

"Yes, yes, so like..." The man was breathing hard, his thrusts upwards into Eleanor strong. "And she has, such fair curls just like you and her bottom..."

"You've seen?" All eyes suddenly on Mr Brent as he bounced Eleanor on his lap.

"Yes, yes, a mistake. Absolutely a mistake. The bathroom. I didn't know. Belinda had not locked the door. I opened... her back to me all pink from the bath. Her bottom so very there, two dimples and then she turned. Nothing hidden. Big womanly breasts, she had so grown, though she's only eighteen and her triangle, if I may call it that, all fair curls and her slit showing through. I backed away so quickly but I... I'm sorry... I can't get the image out of my mind."

Eleanor wanted to ask if he wanked to the thought, but it was obvious by his gasps and thrusts he was coming, coming deep inside her. In his mind was he fucking, coming in her -- Eleanor -- or in his youngest daughter -- Belinda? Nearby Mr Myford and Mr Bowcock were wanking furiously. The idea getting to them too -- though for them to want to fuck the young and clearly delightful Belinda was 'normal' and not the forbidden kink that had been unexpectedly given to Mr Brent.

Mr Brent was effusive, "So good, Eleanor, so good. You're a joy. If we could do that again... another time."

Perhaps in a bathroom, thought Eleanor, she dropping a towel, pretending, play acting to be Belinda. But how to account for the other gentlemen? What would Mr Brent really think of his colleagues fucking in turn his youngest daughter? And why might Belinda be happy with the whole 'orgy'. Might she like the idea of older men, but how many daughters would really want 'daddy' fucking them? Fewer than fathers wanting to fuck daughters perhaps! But what if it was all masked -- the gentlemen all masked. A position of anonymity for Mr Brent vis a vis Belinda. Merely one of four old cocks fucking the girl -- she not knowing at all. But why, what hold would the gentlemen, or one of the gentlemen, have over her? Why would they be fucking her? But Eleanor had no time to ponder that. Mr Brent's cock was softening in her vagina. She needed to move on and get a fresh 'bung' in there to hold in the semen.

"Are you ready, Mr Bowcock?"

Ready or not, Mr Bowcock found Eleanor almost vaulting onto his lap and his long slim penis disappearing up into wet warmth before he had a chance to do anything much about it or think of his marriage vows. Or had he been a 'naughty boy' before?

On the train rattled as Eleanor drew a third stiff penis up and down inside her young and keen vagina. She had gone much further than she could have conceived that morning, becoming just so friendly with strangers on the train -- and learning about their daughters.

"Mmmm, so long, Mr Bowcock. I can slide just so far on it. Like this! I do like how you all vary. Wouldn't it be fun to line you all up for a comparison. Another time maybe. I've a wedding to go to, you know."

They all knew that. Had it not been the wedding that had caused their journey to be so enjoyable? What with Eleanor's undressing, the washing, and then rather more. Indeed, particularly enjoyable that moment for Mr Bowcock, so comfortably nestled within Eleanor's young, wet and hot sheath.

"Was Mary's a nice wedding, Mr Bowcock?"

His description followed and certainly matched that adjective. His depiction enthusiastic, though, no doubt, a little strange for him recalling it all whilst copulating with a girl some six or seven years younger than his Mary.

"Was their wedding night in a hotel?"

"I believe so, yes it was, on their way up to Scotland for their honeymoon."

"I wonder was Mary a virgin that night? Obviously not by morning!"

"I wouldn't... well, actually, I do know not!"

"Really?"

"I came home unexpectedly once and as I passed Mary's door, I heard... unmistakeable sounds."

"Oh, yes?"

"Squelching sounds, Eleanor, you know what I mean. Moaning and my little Mary crying out in pleasure, I think. Quite unnerving, upsetting even."