Amusing Train Ride Ch 03

Evil sometimes wears a pleasant face I have found.

I strolled across the smoking car to the bar where the woman behind the bar smiled at me, her gold incisor gleaming from her mahogany face. She could have been any age, I suppose, from thirty to seventy. I'd seen her before, but not on every turn. She was polishing immaculately clear heavy tumblers, each with the etched RR symbol and the flutes at the bottom.

"Your usual smoke, Mr. Richard?"

"That would be very nice, Francine, thank you." Without waiting for me to reach the polished maple of the surface, she placed the humidor down and flipped back the lid. I smiled back and liberated three of Havana's best tobacco, long, dark, and deliciously aromatic, from their moist protective prison and inserted two of them into my stiff leather case, igniting the third from the match Francine that was holding.

Sometimes I amused my self by pretending that different members of the crew had developed deeper personal relationships than apparent, but seldom was the case. Francine and George were the exception that proved the rule. They had been married and divorced to each other three times.

Propping my elbow on the bar and leaning back, sipped the sweet heady drink and turned to survey the car. The smoke was layered through the car and the scent of cigars mixed with stale beer oozed from the hard wood walls and the stamped tin ceilings. I dipped the tip of my cigar into my drink and drew another mouthful of the thick richness in, to allow it to flow out through my nose.

There were the usual and expected; salesmen, stockmen, a couple of military officers, a man of leisure. My curiosity became piqued when I noticed what I assumed from their complexion were two Indians. These were not turban wearing Sykes but neither were they Cherokee, Lakota, Navaho or any other native nation. While seeing Indians in the smoking car was a first, seeing them dressed in formal European attire was so unusual I caught myself staring and jerked my eyes away, but not before one noticed.

I turned back to the bar and continued my idle inspection in the mirror behind the bar. A card game of chance was occupying five men in the far corner and jugging from the size of the winnings, one fellow was a bit luckier by nature than the other four. Professional no doubt.

Opposite the card players but still in the same end of the car, I finally noticed a tall man dressed in black, a somber enough color even for men of the cloth, but this gent was absent a collar. He also wore an ankle length leather duster with an unfashionably wide brim black felt hat low over his eyes. A dark mug of beer sat in front of him. He was so unusual, I thought it a bit odd that I hadn't noticed him first. I took pains not to hold my attention on him. No one paid him much notice either.

"Interesting mix you have tonight, Francine." I intoned between puffs.

"Yes sir, I suppose so."

"Know anything about Mr. Death over there in the corner?" I shifted my eyes slightly toward the man that already I had begin to think of as "the dark stranger."

"First time that I've seen him was tonight."

"You aren't much help to me tonight, Francine." I smiled.

"Doesn't pay enough." she flashed a brief grin back. "You want a refill on that?"

"I don't think so."

"Anything else, then?"

"Tequila might be nice. Neat."

"Double, Mr. Richard, on me."

"Why thank you, Francine. How kind." and I dropped a fiver into her jar.

"Thank you, Mr. Richard. I'll keep my eyes open for you."

The liquor stung as it crossed my palate and departed leaving a kaleidoscope of changing flavors in its wake. I dropped my cigar into the mirrored brass cuspidor as I turned to leave. Francine glanced away from me toward the front of the car as the tall man shifted and unfolded up out of his seat.

He swayed with the movements of the railcar as he moved toward us and the center of the space. He hid his eyes under the brim of his hat, but as he passed me, I thought that I caught a peek of the most handsome, yet strangest face imaginable. The man had pale pink irises. From the distance of three feet his thin mustache was more obvious and set on his upper lip like the spring remnants of the last snow of winter just before it slipped from the eves. His expression was as blank as a snow bank. I felt chilled at his passing, but my oh my, he was good looking.

Waiting until the liquor had thawed my blood, I followed in the direction of his departure back through the dining car and on to my sleeper compartment. I passed George, the porter as he was finishing his duties in the passenger car.

"Your compartment is ready for you, Mr. Richard." He said, "and your niece asked to wait for you there?"

He asked, indicating that he was assuming he had been correct to allow her entrance.

"Oh yes, thank you, George. Please accept this for your daughter." and I handed him a five dollar note. He accepted without hesitation, but protested that it was not necessary.

"You're not like some folks."

"Oh? Have you been having trouble with any passengers, George?"

It turned out that George didn't have a very high opinion of my "Mr. Death" citing his curt attitude, brusque manner, and habit of not tipping even though he was demanding. I sympathized noting that sometimes we can't choose our companions.

At first thought that I must have been mistaken when I entered my compartment and locked the door. But a moment later my "niece" stepped forth from the bath. On the small side table sat the single rose that I had requested placed in a milkglass vase. She was wearing a calf-length deep blue riding skirt and a loose white long-sleeved silk blouse with lace cuffs. Her hair was held loosely at the nape of her neck with a filigreed silver clasp that used a motif of two galloping mustangs. Beside the bed sat her tall riding boots of hand stitched and tooled leather.

In two steps she was across the space and had her arms about my neck, her mouth against mine, lips open, tongue moving over my teeth. My blood began to rise as did all of the self-doubts. She stepped back holding my shoulders her arms straight.

"You are not going to do this again! Now just stop it! You call to me; you want me; you need me; and then you pull away! I am here for you! I have always been here for you! I will always be here for you. You are being a bastard. I am fed up with the games, the lies, the self-delusion. Everyone knows what you are capable of except you. Now lets do what it takes to get through this and move on!"

And with that outburst, she caught me totally off guard when she swung from her waist and planted an open handed, ear ringing slap that stung my face from chin to temple. As I stood there, stunted, my cheek rapidly blushing deep red, she wound up and walloped my other side equally hard. I watched her draw back to layer another slap over the first before my head cleared enough to catch her wrist in mid strike and spin her around pulling her arm up behind her back. She staggered and bumped into the bed.

I tore off my jacket and ripped my trousers loose to let them drop to my knees, shoving my underwear down atop them.

I turned her to face away form me and forced my knee between hers. With little pressure from me she separated her knees. I opened her legs still further by tapping her ankles outward with the toe of my shoe until her feet were slightly more than shoulder width apart. Then I pushed down and forward on her lower back at the base of her spine until her knees bent to rest against the mattress. I released her hand and she toppled forward. She was forced to catch herself from falling by throwing her hands out to the back wall of the bunk. She began to lower her head but I reached over her back and grasp a hand full of shining curls and the silver hair clip with the dancing horses, pulling her head up and back to force her chin to jut forward.

I slid my hand under her skirt finding a smooth white leg. I swept my hand up the leg and over her hip to rest atop her thigh, the ball of my thumb dropping into the depression that defined the separation of the largest muscles of her body. The tip of her tail bone sat under my thumbnail, only a sheer layer of silk between nail and soft skin. Now it was her turn to tremble.

Curling my fingers into claws and hooking the tips under the lace of the waistband of her panties, I pulled back and down, feeling the material slip back, stretching it over her buttocks, still downward I pushed until I could catch the back edge of her pantywaist with my thumb and reach between her legs with my fingers to grip the crotch and the front of the pantywaist, thus I was able to push the garment down to her knees and expose that beautiful ass to my gaze. I was a gorgeous hard, toned ass.

I drank in the view for a long moment. Lust over came me. I wanted her. I needed her. I must have her. I would have her, again and again. The skin of her ass was so smooth beneath my burning cheek as I ran my chin and cheek over those hips raining kisses. With small bites, I teased the tender flesh at the top of the valley. Goose bumps formed as she felt my tongue begin to explore this groove and saliva ran down the space between those twin globes of firm muscle.

Ahead of the flood, I found a place of extra softness that yielded to my gentle probing and swirling tongue. The goose flesh spread over her ass and spilled onto her thighs. A tight moan escaped her throat when the very tip of my tongue teased into the ring of muscle at the center of her anus.

She was very still, not moving at all. Panting in shallow bleats she shivered as I released my grip on her panties and slipped my thumb under the waist of her skirt and blouse, bunched together at the small of her back. I followed the groove of her spine up her back with my wrist, pushing her garments ahead of my hand to grasp the strap of her bra. She arched her shoulders back thus loosening the tension of the garment that was supporting her breasts. Between thumb and index finger I squeezed the catches and the ends slipped away around her ribcage to either side allowing her breasts to spring free.

My hand continued exploring up her back, tracing her spine until I felt my fingers and thumb grip her neck. I released her hair from the constraints of her filigreed silver clasp. Hair cascaded down. The clip dropped onto the sheets.

My dick was tight, bloated, the head swollen, the rim of the glands standing out, the skin stretched slick. I rested it on her back at the top of her crack above her tail bone. I gripped both of her cheeks and pulled then apart, displaying her puckered wet anus and the downy fuzz below that hinted at the beginning of her maiden hood.

I leaned back away from her and pushed my dick down along that valley until the knob fell below her and then I leaned forward to her again, fitting my pelvis against her buttocks, my penis beneath her, pressing her velvety, fuzz covered mons, its crown nestled lovingly against the spot above which hid her nub. She tried to move her legs together, but I kept my knee between hers. I pulled back an inch and stopped. She followed back to place her bottom against my thighs again. I felt a warmth of moisture begin to seep onto my fleshy rod as her folds began to open. She was wet. She was more than wet, she was on fire. I hesitated thinking of her youth, her innocence, the possible consequences that would only be known in the future...

"Oh please, please, don't tease me like this. Take me. Fuck me! Fuck me for both our sakes!" she breathed hoarsely so quietly that I could barely hear. "You will be the death of me, I need you. Don't you understand? More than you know!"

But I didn't care if she want it or if she would die or if I would die. Nothing mattered now. She reached beneath her belly to grip my slick, sticky, shaft and guide it to her tight opening. I placed my thumb on her anus and swiveled the ball about, not penetrating, but feeling the soft, delicate tissue ease gently and then tense again as waves of arousal swept over her nubile body. She pulled at my shaft until the head slid along her sacred valley, bumping against and scooting over the mound at the top where hid the center of pleasure.

After several dozen passes she pushed the head upward at the same moment that she rotated her pelvis up to align her warm grotto with my seeking shaft. The head did not ride over her love button, but lodged between her hungry, stretched, spreading lips. I pulled back only to feel her dig her nails into the slickness that was my stiff manhood. A groan passed my lips and I thrust forward to ease the pain, to gain entrance, to give her pleasure.

"Oh God! Yes! Finally!" she cried out.

I was inside her and in another sense, she was inside me. I was a meat puppet. The length of my cock seemed endless as I slid into her past rings of muscles gripping me as tightly as her fist had. With difficulty I pulled back until my dick nearly broke free from her hold only to feel her power suck me back into her stomach again. Repeatedly my balls slammed against her clit with an audible splat and rivulets of her lubrication streamed down my legs. She reached back between our legs to grip my balls and control my thrusts with firm tugs of her fist.

Rolls of the sea crashed over my body as huge storm waves smashing on a headland. I could smell the awakening of the earth from the beginning of time. We soon picked up the rhythm of the wheels as the train carriage trucks passed over the rails in our thrusting. It was as if we were a part of the train, the rails, the Earth. We were raw and primitive, a part of creation, out of time and place. Removed from the moment, but dissolved into the Forever.

My body and my mind merged. I could no more think about a single thing than I could about everything. All synapses in my brain seemed to be firing at once. Thoughts and images tumbled and soared and flew inside my skull, flashing at me out of a fog. I could hear orchestras and see fireworks and feel the sting of sleet out of a maelstrom over my body in waves. My body was no longer mine; it had become but a tool, beyond my control. And it was a fabulous feeling.