Erotic gay fiction from Gaydar: InterCity Makes The Going Easy
InterCity Makes The Going Easy
Written by Philip Green
I got on an InterCity train at Euston late one evening. I’d been to a meeting in London and had to return home to the West Midlands that night. I was 23 years old.
It was so long ago that some trains still had compartments of six seats, and access to the compartments was via a corridor and sliding door. I found an empty compartment and settled in the corner seat by the window, with my back to the engine.
Just before the train moved off, a City Gent in pin-striped suit – in his late 30s, I guess – popped his head around the sliding door and asked if I minded if he joined me. He sat down in the opposite corner and we engaged in idle conversation as the train moved off.
Since my journey was to last a couple of hours, I settled down in the hope that I might doze off. City Gent asked if it would be alright if he pulled the blinds down and turned the ceiling light to dim – it would make it easier for us both to get some rest. The complete innocent, I thought nothing of it and agreed. He got up, pulled down the blinds between us and the corridor, and dimmed the light.
Stations such as Wembley and Harrow flashed by.
When he sat back, City Gent chose the middle seat opposite me. In a few minutes, I began to realise the significance of this move.
As the train thundered through the night, I became conscious that his knee was knocking against mine from time to time. It didn’t bother me particularly and I didn’t move my knee away. Then I realised that his knee was being held more and more against mine. I looked up and him – he smiled the smile, and pressed his leg tightly against mine.
The train sped through Watford.
Although I knew I was gay, I was a virgin in every respect. I was innocent, but eager to learn.
I kept my knee in position and he shifted his – rather than rubbing the outside of my knee with the outside of his, he was rubbing the inside of mine with the inside of his. My cock was hard.
The train sped through Hemel Hempstead.
He slowly got up, turned and came to sit down beside me, casually throwing his coat across both our laps.
Then, he began touching the zip to my fly. I shifted to make it easier for him – he pulled the zip down and slid his hand inside, touching my briefs.
I put my hand in his lap and could feel the powerful bulge in his trousers.
Next, he brought our faces together, fixed his lips over mine and kissed me. That was it, I gave myself to him there and then – my mouth opened and his tongue pushed inside.
I pushed my tongue back against his – probing his mouth lustily and hungrily, sucking on his tongue.
He told me to follow him to the toilet down the corridor. It was clear what he wanted, and I was willing to let him have it.
As soon as the toilet door was locked behind us, we were again kissing passionately, pushing our trousers down to release our hard cocks. I was wearing Jockey briefs, he was wearing a jockstrap. He smelt pungently of stale deodorant and sweat. I couldn’t get enough of him.
He dropped to his knees and took my cock in his mouth. City Gent’s mouth was warm and wet – his tongue curled around my cock-head, first one way, then the other. He was slurping hungrily to taste my flowing pre-cum.
His expert cock-sucking skills soon pushed me over the edge and my spunk was gushing – he eagerly swallowed as much as possible.
My first blow-job – I felt as if I’d passed a significant milestone.
It’s a memory that makes me smile every time I get on a train at Euston.