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...
