TRAIN TO BARCELONA
by
Adam Starchild
I've always been fascinated with trains. There's something thrilling and romantic about them -- a trace of nostalgia, white tablecloths and freshly cut flowers, pastoral beauty.
Even when I was a child, I awaited the passing of a train with eagerness. I watched the seemingly tiny people in the passenger cars and dreamed about the exciting places they were traveling to. I had taken several train trips as I had grown up, but I never fully understood my fascination until I recently vacationed in Europe.
While in Europe I took trains whenever possible -- across the emerald green Irish countryside, past noble German castles and through rugged mountains in Italy. The trains were filled with natives and tourists from all corners of the world. I chatted with many intriguing travelers, but my most memorable experience occurred on a night train to Barcelona for the Olympics.
Four of us occupied a charming little compartment -- two Turkish students, an Argentinean gentleman, and me. I boarded in the late afternoon and passed several pleasant hours gazing at the lush scenery. When night fell and the train grew dark, I began to focus on my fellow passengers. The students tried their frail English on me, but they quickly tired of the experience. The Argentinean, whose English was much better, politely introduced himself to me as Javier. I almost sensed a sexual spark between us but casually shrugged it off as a passing fancy.
As Javier talked, I was reminded of the elegance and sophistication of Latin men. He was darkly handsome and had a sensual mouth and finely tailored clothes. He genially explained that he bought art for several galleries in Buenos Aires, then asked about my American background.
Javier invited me to join him in the dining car and I accepted. We laughed and talked over a good bottle of wine, and I found myself wishing I had met him in a more convenient place.
The students were asleep in the darkened compartment when we returned. Javier and I sat silently side by side, staring out at the blackness that rolled by. Lulled by the wine and the monotonous churning of the wheels, it seemed perfectly natural for me to lean my head on his shoulder. Soon I felt his hand slowly sliding between my thighs, starting a fire I longed to quench. Our lips met hungrily with a taste of wine, his tongue gently touched mine. I felt his hot breath in my ear as he nibbled the sensitive lobe, then Javier moved his hand down to the warm flesh of my chest. My nipples hardened as he squeezed them through the thin cloth of my shirt.
The movement of the train rocked us closer together, and our passion rose. But then I felt the train slowing down for a stop. We pulled apart just as the students awoke and, by some miracle, they began gathering up their luggage. They left the compartment with what seemed to be agonizing slowness. The 15-minute stop seemed like hours as we impatiently waited. listening to the movements outside and desperately hoping no newcomers would join us in our compartment.
Finally the train began to move slowly into the night. As it picked up speed, Javier rose, drew the shades and locked the door to the compartment. Then he pulled me to him for a long, sensuous kiss.
Opening my shirt, he stroked my chest, rolling the attentive nipples between his fingers. I reached for him and hurriedly unfastened his shirt, running my hands and mouth across his chest.
Pushing me back on the seat, Javier slid my pants down around my shins and placed his warm mouth on my shorts-enclosed bulge. While dripping pre-cum through the material, his fingers teased my dampening crotch. I quickly helped him remove the offending clothing, spread my legs and reveled in his experienced lips. I raised my hips to meet his tongue as it slipped up and down my cock and moaned aloud as he sucked on my balls, but the sound was lost in the clattering of the wheels. Holding my bare bottom steady on the cool leather seat, Javier licked me until I gasped in climax.
Smiling, he stood just long enough to throw off his shirt and drop his trousers to reveal a tantalizing, thoroughly masculine sight. I eagerly welcomed his body as he lowered himself on top of me. My nipples were teased by the hair on his chest. I lifted and opened my legs gladly as Javier pushed his thick penis between them.
Our lips met as he slowly inserted the head of his cock. I held my breath until he plunged his full length into me. The engine tore along the tracks as our bodies rocked together. He moved deeper and deeper inside me. Soon our motions synchronized with the rhythm of the churning wheels. Our moans were covered by the clattering noise.
Javier thrust on and on, bringing my body to such a pitch of sensitivity that I screamed. My primordial sound died with the whistle of the train. As I regained my senses, Javier filled me with his warm semen.
We somehow pulled ourselves and our clothing back together in short order. As I pulled on my coat, I wondered whether I had been carried away by the speed and roar of the train or by the erotic gentleman beside me.
One thing is certain: my blood has never pumped so fast before -- or since -- that memorable occasion. I expect sex will rarely be as good as it was then, cradled inside a noisy, black train hurtling through the Spanish night.
End
Copyright 1995
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