Date: Sat, 18 Nov 2023 13:44:35 +0000 From: Kevin Mason Subject: Trainspotting At Euston Station All the usual disclaimers apply. The following story is entirely fictional and contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity between a teenage boy and adult males. Read no further if you are under the age of 18, or offended by such material. Please consider donating to Nifty (https://donate.nifty.org). Gay / Adult-youth: oral, anal, M+/t - - - - - Trainspotting At Euston Station When I was 13 years old, and growing up in London, everything seemed so exciting. I had been introduced to masturbation at the age of 12 by a school friend; and since then, spent a good deal of my time in a state of heightened sexual bliss - wholly fulfilled by mutual masturbation sessions with my school friend and his older cousin. In 1959, London was very different from the shithole it is today. I had been exploring large parts of the city on my own since I was 12 years old, when I began trainspotting. Each day, during the school holidays, I would travel to Euston station and meet up with other trainspotting boys. It was rare for me not to visit at least three other railway terminals before setting off for home. I remember standing at King's Cross station, with a notepad and pencil in hand. I was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of summer shorts. I had sandals on, but no socks. My blond hair was in a crew cut, which was the fashion then. I was tall and slim, and quite good-looking. It was mid-morning and I needed to pee. There were two men in their late 20s standing at the urinals when I entered the station toilet. I stood next to the better-looking one and got my cock out. I stood further back than I needed to and began to pee, making sure that the man could see my cock. He didn't take the hint and left, glaring at me in an indignant way. The other man had been watching and moved to stand next to me. "That's a nice cock you've got there, son," he said. "Thanks," I said, smiling. The man moved to show me his cock. It was about six inches long, uncut and semi-erect. By the time my cock was semi-erect, we were both ready for action. The man nodded towards one of the cubicles. It was grimy and smelly, but the advantage was that no one could see us behind a locked door - remember, in 1959 it was illegal for two males to have sex. Not one word was spoken between us. The man squeezed my cock as I did the same to his growing stem. He then began to wank me off, with a great deal of gusto, as I did the same to his rock-hard cock. I was really turned on by the thought of wanking off a grown-up. It felt so wicked. I began stroking the man's cock for all I was worth, and some 30 seconds later three good-sized spurts of spunk hit the cubicle door. Soon after, my single jet of spunk landed on the filthy floor - I had hoped that there would be more, but that was the best I could manage. "Thanks, son," he said, as we both left the cubicle. "Hope to see you again." When the man left, I stayed for a while in the toilet. No one else came in, so I gave up and headed for Platform 10. There were about 20 boys there, ranging from about 10 to 16, and a few men. One boy was about 13 or 14 years old. He was slim and wearing summer shorts. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and looked like a fellow enthusiast. He seemed to be on his own, as he made no contact with any of the boys or men around him. I stood next to him, and wrote down several loco numbers. As I did so, an unusual loco appeared from York. We both said that it was a "cop", which meant a loco that we had not seen before. We smiled at each other, pleased with our good luck. "These are the ones I've seen today," I said to him, showing him my notepad. He quickly read the list and let out a gasp. His eyes widened. "Are you kidding?" he said. "No. Everything there is true," I replied. "I've copped all those numbers. Have I copped you as well?" He grinned and nodded his head. We walked back down Platform 10, both knowing what was to come. "Ever sucked a cock before?" he asked. "No," I replied. "I like wanking a lot, but never tried sucking a cock. You done it often?" "Yes. Lots of times," he replied. "Usually in a train compartment with a fellow trainspotter." We walked over to the suburban part of the station and saw that a local train was about to leave. In those days, the local trains on that line didn't have corridors - each ten-seat compartment had a door at each end. So, once you were in, you couldn't get out until the train had stopped moving. Better still, no one else could get in. He led me to a compartment near the middle of the train, making sure that there wasn't anyone in any of the compartments on either side. He didn't want anyone overhearing our sex-romp. "In you get," he said. "By the way, my name's Alan. What's yours?" "Kevin," I answered. "When did you last spill spunk, Kevin?" I told Alan that I was an enthusiastic wanker, and did it four or five times a day. I told him about the man in the station toilet, and how I've been shooting spunk for over a month. Alan proudly told me that he had been "squirting spunk" for over five months, and that he wanked five times a day. This sounded very promising. Alan leaned out of the window to make sure that no one else was getting on the train, near our compartment. A train whistle signalled that the train was about to leave the station, so Alan sat down next to me. "Right," he said, "let's get our clothes off. This train doesn't stop for ages, so we can suck each other dry in comfort." Once naked, I knelt on the floor and looked at Alan's cock. It was uncut, with a loose foreskin that was easy to pull back. There were several pubic hairs around the base, and a clear drop of pre-cum oozing from the piss-slit. I licked off the pre-cum and he shivered. Slowly, I opened my mouth and tongued his rigid cock. Up and down his cock I went, licking the piss-slit at the end of each run. After a couple of minutes, I took the whole of his stem into my mouth. I then began to caress his ball-sac as a train whizzed past the window on my right. Alan's velvet ball-sac was a wonder to behold. "I'm really enjoying this, Kevin," he said. "You sure this is your first suck?" "Yes," I said, as I came up for air. "This cock sucking is great. I'm gonna suck every cock I see from now on." Alan's body writhed as I went back to work. A few minutes later, I sensed that he was near to a climax. I sucked hard on his length and kept playing with his ball-sac. "Oh!" he moaned, "I'm about to shoot my load down your throat." Needless to say, I wasn't about to stop sucking - I so wanted to taste Alan's spunk. My own cock began to twitch as his seed filled my mouth. I swallowed hard, making his cock convulse several times. "Fuck!" he said. "That was the best ever. Want me to do it to you now? Can I suck your cock?" "What a silly question," I said, as I stretched out on the bench seat. He climbed on and began licking my cock and ball-sac. My climax took him completely by surprise. I just couldn't hold back, and felt so embarrassed - his turn had lasted two stations and a bit; my turn only lasted a couple of signals. "Sorry about that," I said. "Never felt anything like that before. Fuckin' amazing!" Alan took his mouth off my cock and quickly finished me off. I bounced around on the bench seat as he completed the task. "Fucking hell!" he said. "I've never seen anyone shoot that quick. I must be getting really good at this lark." "Sorry," I said. "First time nerves." We lay back exhausted, waiting for the train to slow down. We only wanked each other off on the return journey - the train was a stopper, so we remained dressed and did it between stations. ~ ~ ~ The next day, Alan was nowhere to be seen on Platform 10. I sat on a bench and waited and waited. "Hello, son," a man in his 50s said. "Are you okay?" "Yes," I replied. "I've been waiting for a friend, but he's a no show." "C'mon, son," he said. "You look like you could do with something hot inside you. I've got some nice soup in my office." I followed the man off the platform and into a small office, which stood beside the telephone kiosks. George worked for a charity that helped runaways. I decided to play along with the man's misconception of the boy on the bench, hoping to get a few bob out of him. "Gosh, mister," I said. "Thanks for the soup. I ain't had anything to eat for a while." "You poor boy," he said. "Not to worry. My friends have a shelter for runaway boys. Finish off your soup and I'll take you there." I tried everything to get out of the invite. With no money on offer, I wasn't that keen on meeting George's friends. I kinda felt woozy as we walked to the shelter, which was a terraced house near the station. There were three men there, and they were all in their 40s. George introduced me to his friends as they slowly stripped me naked in the living-room. I was the fifth boy in the house - the others were all skinny, like me, and aged between 10 and 12. "Well, Kevin," Iain said. "You've had your soup, so now you're ready to be fucked. Get down on all-fours and let Brian grease you up with some Vaseline." I looked around the room and saw that all the men and boys were completely naked, and getting ready to have their way with me. I did as I was told - the soup had clearly been spiked with alcohol. I was quickly pounced upon; but for the life of me, I can't remember a thing after the first cock entered my arsehole. ~ ~ ~ "Wake up, boy," George said. "You've been asleep for ages. Do you want another mug of soup?" I was back in the office, sitting on a leather chair in the corner. My arse was aching like billy-o. I couldn't stand up, so how I got back there was a complete mystery. I was fully dressed, but nothing fitted right. "Was my visit to the shelter a dream?" I asked myself. "And why was my arsehole so sore?" My clothes had been put on by someone else; I was sure of it. George and his friends had fucked me; I was sure of that too. I still felt woozy, and there was a taste of spunk in my mouth. "Do you want another mug of soup, Kevin?" George asked. "It'll get rid of that funny taste in your mouth." I glared at the man and shook my head. "What did you lot do to me?" I asked. "You took my clothes off and..." "Had an orgy," George interrupted. "But I'm no runaway!" I snapped. "And my dad's a..." "Policeman," George interrupted. "Yes, I've heard that one before ... And, if your dad is a policeman, I bet he wouldn't want to see all those photographs of you smiling and sucking on hard-standing cock." My dad was actually a stevedore, with powerful fists. But if George was right, the photographs would be damning. "Okay," I said. "You hand over that promised fiver and I'll just sit here, until I can walk to the Underground station." "Yes. I could do that," George said. "Or, I could give you a ten-shilling note and invite you back here tomorrow. That way, you'll get your fiver after nine more visits. Plus, you'll get gangbanged nine more times. Deal?"