The Train

The Train by Capt. Feg The story I am about to retell actually happened. It was in the late 50's - before the advent of the Pill or Tights. I had married about two years previously. My wife, Cathy, was in her late twenties. I was in my late 30s. We had been to a large, loud party in London. We had both consumed large amounts of alcohol. Leaving late at night (for those days) we wound our way to the local railway station to catch the last train home. Supporting Cathy, I managed to stagger to the station. We poured ourselves onto the train, hoping it was the right one, and giggling at the thought of ending up in Edinburgh. Cathy wore beneath her coat, her favourite party dress - a long, full red dress with large red buttons up the front and a tight belt at the waist. Underneath she wore a bra, stockings and suspenders, and panties. She had dressed to please me. The effect of alcohol on Cathy is to send her to sleep. At this time railway trains had coaches with 6 seater compartments. The train was largely deserted. We slumped into the first empty compartment. I switched the compartment light to dim. I didn't pull down the compartment blinds. Even in those days I was something of a voyeur, and found the possibility of being watched exciting. We settled down. I kissed Cathy, and as she warmed to my tongue in her mouth and ear, I unbuttoned her coat and top buttons on her dress. My hand slipped into her bra without protest from her. I gently squeezed her breast, enjoying the warm weight of it my hand and the hardened flesh of her nipple pushing into my palm. Feeling pretty aroused myself I unbuttoned her dress from the bottom. One handed, and drunk, this took some time. As I struggled with the buttons I was half-aware of movement to and fro in the corridor from time to time, but concentrating on the difficult buttons I took little notice. I finally had the buttons and belt undone. But now Cathy had fallen asleep, with her head on my shoulder. Cathy sleeps soundly, so I saw no reason not to enjoy myself with her goodies. I lifted her dress open and looked at her body. Her legs were slightly open, but not enough for me to get to her pussy. I moved position to move her leg a little. As I knew she wouldn't, Cathy didn't stir during this manhandling. I had just managed to get her leg where I wanted it when the door suddenly and loudly slid open. As my hand was over her body I instantly pulled her coat to cover her. A large shadow of a man sat in the empty seat next to Cathy. I sat back, cursing my luck and nursing a painful erection. I put my head back on the headrest and closed my eyes. Holding Cathy's hand, buried between us, I settled down. After a period of time I guess I dozed a little, lulled by tiredness, alcohol, and the gentle sideways movement of my body, and Cathy's body against me as the train click-clacked along the tracks. I was pulled back to awareness when I felt Cathy's body move out of sequence with the train's. Without shifting position I opened my eyes a slit and looked down at Cathy. Her coat was open. Her body on view. A large black hand was caressing her breast in a circular motion. I watched fascinated as the hand massaged first one breast then the other. There were few black men in the country at that time. I was mesmerised by the contrast between Cathy's white skin and the ebony hand touching her. Having his fill of her breasts the hand moved down, caressingly over her skin to the top of her panties. First one, then another, and another - all his fingers gently slipped under the elastic of her panties. I concentrated hard on not ejaculating as the bulge of his hand moved down under her panties. It explored from side to side over the area where I knew her pubic hair to be. After a brief pause it moved purposefully down between her still open legs. Cathy's fingers in my hand suddenly dug hard into my hand. There was no other movement from her, but I knew - she was awake. I wasn't sure whether she wanted me to wake up and protect her, or to just watch the stranger's hand exploring her. Looking back, I guess she wanted me to stop it. At the time, in my excitement I needed little persuasion that she wanted to share her experience with me (Even though we had never talked of such matters, and she had no inkling that I might be excited by her violation). I did not respond to her hand and continued to feign sleep. From the movement of the hand under her panties I knew that the fingers had found her pussy, and that one or two were probing deep into her. As if in her sleep Cathy moved her head on my shoulder. Her lips were close to my ear. Almost inaudibly she whispered my name. Getting no response she repeated it several times. I still made no response. By now the bulge in the crutch of her panties was moving up and down, as it sawed into her pussy. Cathy's breathing in my ear was now hot and ragged. Quietly I heard her whisper "No, please no . . . don't" By now my erection was painfully caught in my pubic hair and underpants. I had managed to control the pain but knew that I must move soon. My mind raced at possible ways to relieve myself. But I was afraid that if I moved it would frighten off the stranger's hands. I felt an overwhelming desire to see her being violated by this stranger. I finally decided that I would just stand up and walk out of the compartment, and leave her alone with him. Without further thought I did this. I jumped to my feet and rushed to the door, hand to mouth as if to be sick. Without a sideways glance I slid open the door, strode through, and shut it quickly behind me. I strode of quickly up the corridor, out of sight. Sorting out my tied-up erection I silently crept back down the corridor and carefully peeked into my compartment. Cathy had not moved at all. Neither had the stranger. His hand still stroked Cathy's pussy. However, his head was turned towards the corridor looking out for my return. As the seconds ticked past he must have realised that I might be gone sometime. He seemed to make a decision. Carefully extricating his hand from Cathy's cunt, he stood up and turned away from me. His back to me he seemed to rapidly unbuttoned his flies. I couldn't see his cock. He knelt down between Cathy's legs. He pulled her gently to the edge of the seat. All I could make out was the manoeuvring of his hips as he lined up his cock and exposed Cathy's pussy. He sank down onto her, as his penis slipped into her. Obviously he had worked out by now that Cathy was drunk and unlikely to be disturbed. He started to fuck her with short hard strokes. Out in the corridor my mind raced. I wondered if Cathy really was awake, and if she was, why she didn't do something to stop him. I wondered why I was standing here watching someone else fuck my wife. The thought suddenly crashed into my mind that Cathy wasn't wearing her cap. A rapid mental calculation told me that she was mid-month. Torn in two by the desire to see her being inseminated, but agonisingly anxious about the consequences, I decided to return to the compartment. As that thought was crystallising in my mind the stranger stopped moving. I looked on in horror as his buttocks clenched and unclenched several time, as he pushed his cock as far into her as it would go, discharging his spunk deep into her belly. The fuck had taken about 15 seconds. He stood up and put his penis in his pants and buttoned his flies. Without another glance at Cathy, and leaving her body exposed and her legs wide open he reached for the door. I desperately dived into the open doorway of the next compartment to hide. I heard his footsteps move off down the corridor in the opposite direction. I pulled out my cock and, alone in the dark compartment, my mind racing with the recent visions and activities, I gently masturbated. After only a few strokes I exploded, thick white globules of semen falling to the floor. My mind drawn to the stranger's sperm deep inside my wife at this moment, searching for her egg . . . . Cathy! Straightening my clothes I rushed back to our compartment. Cathy was in much the same position that she had been in before the stranger had entered our compartment. Between his departure, as I sat and wanked next door she had sat up a little, pulled her coat over her, and sat as if still asleep. I sat down beside her. She snuggled up to me as if still asleep. I smelt the mixture of their sex. In silence we eventually got home. Cathy pretended to be semi-comatose, needing to be half carried. Closing the front door at home I laid her face down on the stairs took my coat off and removed hers. As I leant over her I could smell the sex again. Her body looked small and vulnerable laying passively, letting me move it at will. Drawn by lust I lifted her skirt, pulled her panties to one side and stood back to undo my flies. In the hall light I could see the sticky mess around her cunt and inner thighs, and where it had dribbled down to form two dark wet patches on her stocking tops. My cock slid easily into her. She laid just as passively for me as she had for him. Within half a dozen strokes I was coming. Cathy had her next period on time. I was disappointed in a way. We never mentioned the journey or it's events to each other. We never had the opportunity to repeat the activities again, even though I would dearly have loved to. I just felt too shy to raise the subject. What would I have said if she had asked me why I had deliberately left her alone with a stranger who was obviously going to help himself to her? How would she answer me, if I had asked her why she didn't try to stop him? 5661 2.21/512345