The following contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts between consenting teenage boys. It is a work of pure fiction and has no basis in the real world. Any similarities between people and places is just simple and plain coincidence. Do not read this story if you are under 18 or the legal age in your area; or, if it is just down right illegal to read this material where you live. And, don't go any further if you don't want to read about gay/bisexuals falling in love and having sex.
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Strangers on a Train
by. J. A. Adkins
Part 1-Leaving Home
It was happening again. A night repeating itself over again. A night that was so real yet still beyond reality. A warm, tepid night in some late summer. I wake up from the uneasy sleep I had fallen into in my own bed and find myself tangled in bleached white sheets. The humid darkness engulfing my surroundings is broken for a few brief and heart stopping seconds by a buzzing red light. It appears again and again every few moments. I'm in a hotel room, I realize... And I'm not alone.
This fact is apparent by the soft, milky fingers gently, inquisitively making their way up my naked leg under the cool cloth. I'm laying on my side facing a blank wall with peeling wallpaper exposing cracked plaster in the quickly fading burst of red light from outside the window behind me. A muscular leg presses against mine as the fingers travel further, reaching my hip and then roaming down across the front of my waist just above my groin. I could stop them, turn around and kick the ass of whoever was doing this; but, deep down I want this just as much as they do. Should I be scared, worried that I don't even know who this pleasuring stranger is? A loud sigh escapes my lips suddenly as those masculine fingers grip my aching, throbbing cock, pulling my thoughts with it.
I close my eyes, blocking out the red haze that pushes against the darkness before retreating yet again. Another muscular, firm leg joins the first, pressing against my own. I spread them open as the tightened fingers grip my drooling staff and pull on it with the easiest of pressure. Another sigh finds its way out of my lungs and throat as I feel an equally hard dick push flat against the length of my vulnerable crack. I push back, feeling a whisper of air cross my cheek on the edge of a soft moan.
The hand holding my aching member pulls on it again, harder this time. He was starting to jack me off, whoever he was. I feel him press against my ass, hinting at what he desires. Already his motions on my cock were growing faster and more intense when out of the shadows behind me I feel the wet tip of a tongue tickle my ear. I moan. My hips buck hard against his own throbbing spear of flesh. I can sense a rivulet of precum ooze tauntingly down towards my hungry hole.
More and more he teases my ear and harder he strokes my fully hardened penis. Precum flows freely and wildly from within my stiff rod and laces in his milky, heavy fingers. I can tell the fringes of my orgasm are approaching. I can't control the level of my moaning between the wordless pants I am making just to get air.
Then his motions stop. I open my eyes with disappointment and a speed I have never known before. Yet, it was only a moment before I felt him turn me over, the tangled and precum stained sheet being kicked away. The red light from outside the window burns at the darkness yet keeps my mystery man bathed in ominous shadow. I don't care though. The red light comes and then goes, letting the darkness swallow us again.
My heart flutters as I feel his lips on mine. His tongue wants entrance, tasting first my upper lip and then my bottom. I open my mouth, letting the wet tips of our tongues meet and flirt before giving him room to probe deeper into my mouth. I can feel all of him against me; his smooth skin wet with his sweat pressing and rubbing against my own. I feel our cocks meet, touching one another in a firm, frictional, gliding embrace that sends sudden and almost numbing waves of tingling excitement through my body. I moan loudly with the greatest of pleasure into his mouth as our tongues swirl and battle around each other.
His lips part mine as he begins to journey down my neck to my chest and each nipple. I can feel the wet trail of his saliva marking his path to, first my right, hard sensitive nub and then my left. He teases each one with his tongue, swirling it in maddening, numbing circles that cause my heart to pump nothing but the purest ecstasy. I moan again, feeling his teeth pinch the tips of each nickel size patch of tender, sweaty flesh. I can't help but giggle at the feeling.
His lips slowly move to my stomach, enveloping every inch of my skin. His tongue presses firmly into my navel, tickling me before as he traces an even slower, more tantalizing path to the edge of my pubic hairs and then the base of my precum-coated shaft. I am leaking it almost unstoppably now. My breathing is fast and shallow. Each exhale is filled by another, trembling moan of excited delight. With the speed of a bullet in The Matrix, I could feel and-looking down-see his mouth traveling up my quivering, diamond-hard penis. His tongue's wet course slowly finds my sensitive head, dancing playfully around the glans before he wraps his tender, candy-tasting lips tightly around it.
I nearly melt out of my skin it feels so good. I know it is not going to take very much longer for my swollen, overcrowded nuts to explode the hot jizz boiling in my scrotum now tucked between the fingers of his left hand. His mouth is like a vacuum and it sucks with incredible power and diligent speed on me. The red light from outside flashes again, then again. It seems to be caught up with the rhythm of my racing heart, marking time towards the building climax growing in my loins. His speed increases each time he goes down. His tongue drags across the surface of my cock inside his mouth as he sucks back up, his mouth still so, so tight. I feel my glans under assault again and again as his lips hover around the edge of my pink, mushroom head.
Faster the red light appears then disappears. Faster my heart beats and pounds against my heaving chest. Faster he goes up and down on my wet, cum filling member. My balls are on fire between his massaging fingers. I feel my orgasm rocket through my entire body. There is barely time to yell out a warning. Muffled tangled words lost in long, reverberating moan as my body goes stiff and I feel myself explode. The room seems to be illuminated in a swelling plume of red light. Streams of white, hot cum race out of my dick, splattering wetly against my sheets.
My eyes fluttered open with a start as I began to recover my breathing. The dank hotel room was gone. The pulsing red light no where to be seen. My mysterious lover... non existent. I laid back with a heavy sigh. Just another wet dream, I think to myself, sadly. Just another dream.
It seemed like only a minute went by before the blaring, earsplitting wail of my alarm clock flooded the peaceful, lonely silence of my little room. I sighed again and punched the snooze button with the bottom of my fist. I could still feel the warm, sticky dampness that coated my pubic hair. My weapon for wet sheets was slowly deflating as I lay there quietly.
Today was going to be an interesting day. It was the start of a whole new life really. After the saddening, troubling, and downright frustrating events of the last year, I was glad to be leaving. Ever since I could remember a time of dreaming about living on my own, caring for myself, and living wildly adventurous and maybe even a little debacherously, the windy city had been whispering my name. The carefully packed and skyscraper decorated downtown grabbed my attention. The colorful lights of theaters and dance clubs dazzled my imagination. The eclectic assortment of people and places around it made me giddy with anticipation. Now, with all anchors holding me to this tired, dragged down town pulled free, Chicago was flat out calling me.
And I was answering.
I snaked out of bed and drifted drowsily across the empty hardwood floor to my bathroom. I didn't even bother cleaning myself off, knowing the warm spray of the shower would do that. I took extra time washing today. With my wash cloth layered in the ocean-fresh body wash I loved so much I worked up a thick, even lather across my lightly tanned arms, legs, and chest. I scrubbed each of my nickel sized nipples that looked pink in the egg-white light reflecting off the ceramic tiles that covered the wide shower stall.
Moving to an easy rhythm pulsing in my mind, I carefully washed the places that needed washing-and maybe giving them a little extra attention at the same time. With my naked flesh covered in the tingling, crystal blue soap, I stepped under the cascading stream of water and rinsed off. I let the steady streams of massaging warmth caress the skin between the pale globes of my semi-firm bubble butt. Time slipped by me a little more than I had intended as I stood under the shower head, forcing me to rush through my hair with a sweet smelling glob of strawberry red shampoo. Feeling satisfied, I climbed out of the shower, toweling off and proceeding with the rest of my morning routine.
With my face shaved and hair carefully disheveled in just the right way, I adjusted the collar of my tight fitting white and blue-striped button-down tee shirt that came, just barely, to the waist band of my modestly fitting blue jeans. I didn't think I was too much to look at. I knew I was cute. I had been told so on more than one random occasion from this girl or that boy. Yet, they themselves were nothing to stare at. I leaned close to the mirror, looking at the light dusting of freckles around my face and down my neck. I looked into the reflection of my steel, blue eyes. My mother had always said I had the eyes of my father. Eyes you couldn't help but stare at and loose yourself in. Eyes you fell in love with the first moment you saw them.
A heavy, sad sigh escaped my lips, fogging the mirror and obscuring my reflection, bringing my thoughts back to the quiet bathroom in the silent, empty house. I felt alone all of a sudden. It was as if the reality of the world finally found me and placed its heavy load evenly across my shoulders. Fate can be a real bitch sometimes, I thought bitterly, grabbing my bathroom kit and turning out the light. It was the last time I would ever be in that bathroom.
The train station was just a few minutes from the two story building with ivory white vinyl siding and red pine double doors at the top of a short, brick stoop I had called home for most of my life. My parents had moved us here when I was seven. My room-a wide, imperfect square with a balcony outside sky-blue painted, French doors on one side and my own bathroom to the other-had been my eighth birthday present. As the taxi cab had pulled out of the driveway and started down the street on this, the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I couldn't help but feel myself getting choked up.
The mustard yellow station wagon pulled fiercely into the already crowded parking lot, tires screeching and asphalt peeling as the liquor-smelling driver brought his car to a heart pounding stop. I pushed open the door, climbing out of the fruit and grease smelling deathtrap as quickly as I could. The driver was already dragging my luggage out of the trunk and dropping it onto the sidewalk.
"Thanks," I said briskly. "I'll take it from here."
The bristle-faced, brown-eyed driver snatched the crisp bills of money out of my fingers and sank into his car. With a cough from his over used engine, the driver guided his cab away from the sidewalk, sending the rocketing yellow station wagon down the half empty Main Street. I gagged on the smothering curtain of nostril burning exhaust as I gathered my luggage and made my way towards the platform.
I turned a corner, pushed past a pair of creaky double doors, walked through a short, open ended hallway and emerged in the crowded station. This Union Station was not your New York city or Washington D.C.-sized. It was much, much smaller; reaching maximum capacity very quickly on warm, sunny spring mornings like this one. My guess was most everyone lining the long rows of sunlit benches or sitting comfortably around the tables on the second floor balcony above me were waiting for the same train as I: the Blue Sky Express. Although I didn't think it was that express. There were at least three stops on the way to Chicago, making the trips duration a seemingly uneventful four days.
I found an empty seat nestled tightly between an old woman with a red, green, and yellow polk-a-dotted crocheted hat and matching vest; and a man with a midnight blue suit and tie. His face was unshaven but deeply tanned. His carefully combed hair was a dark brown color and his eyes were hidden behind the latest style of sunglasses. He laughed into one of those sleek, modern looking headsets which was connected to a compact, silver cell phone clipped to his belt. I took a deep breath, rolling my eyes as I sat down between this odd couple and waited for the train to make its anticipated arrival.
The minutes dragged painfully by. My left ear ached from the suited man's ongoing, boisterous conversation about anything and everything irrelevant existing under the sun-which in the back of my mind I wished would just suddenly explode, sending a searing heat wave to incinerate the Earth in a flash of boiling heat and fire just so I wouldn't have to hear this asshole beside me laugh like a hyena one more time!! My right ear was in better shape, however, just not by much. As the kindly old woman flipped carefully through the pages of her magazine, she hummed a continuous song my mind could not or would not identify. Over and over, on and on she hummed her tune. I wanted to scream so loudly it would crack her fracture her glasses and cause her head to pop like a balloon. Instead, I just sat quietly and rolled my eyes again, wishing the train would hurry up.
I decided to take stock of the other passengers crowding the platform. I let my eyes gaze slowly across the other benches ours was facing. There was the usual clusters of people of all shapes and sizes. A tour group was gathered at the far end of the platform near the concrete steps leading up to the balcony. In front of the Hawaiian shirt clad and soft souled shoes collection of retirees, various sized families sat. Children ran and horsed around while their parents calmly and without really looking at them ordered their kids to settle down. It worked for a few seconds. Yet, inevitably, someone would poke, pinch, punch, or pull the hair of another and the wrestling and chasing would begin anew. I sighed, thankful I bought a first class ticket and thus would have my own cabin.
I let my eyes shift further to the right and up to the landing of the cement steps. A group of college-aged kids walked slowly down the stairs, laughing about something. One of them had spiked hair that was mostly dark but a golden, almost sandy blonde color at the gelled-up tips. His skin was slightly tanned and looked very smooth. He wore a sleeveless, black Gap shirt and khaki colored cargo shorts. His dark eyes were like little captivating puddles of intense energy and his smile was a sheen of perfect white. I watched he and his friends turn and walk into an open hallway like the one I came in through, then looked back at the landing.
Instantly my eyes locked on the tight, little rear carefully concealed in a pair of dark gray-blue cargo shorts that ended at the top of very well shaped, smooth dark, almost red calves. He wore blue flip-flops on his feet. His upper body was hidden within a tight, fatigue colored tee shirt that seemed to be more like a second skin on him. His hair was cut extremely short. From where I was sitting, he looked about the same age as the group I had just seen; maybe a year or two younger. He glanced at his watch wrapped loosely around his wrist then turned and bounded up the rest of the stairs to the balcony. I figured it was the last time I would get to see that cute ass.
A few minutes later though, I wouldn't care anymore. From out of the hallway where the group of college kids had disappeared moments before, a Greek god Michaelangelo could not have painted well enough emerged from the corridor and walked to the ticket window. He wasn't chiseled out of stone or ripped with boulder like muscles. Instead, he was very thin yet well toned; but not over the top, either. His angelic face was carefully proportioned and I loved every centimeter of it. His hair was sandy brown and cut short, but not too short. His arms were long, but not lanky, with two perfectly sized hands at the end of both. He wore a small, maroon colored button-down tee shirt that just barely came down to the top of his low-rise jeans. The tight, slightly faded blue fabric carefully wrapped around the most adorable, firm butt I had ever seen. The package in his front was only slightly evident. My mind spun as I imagined what treasure lay under that cloth ocean of blue. I felt myself getting extremely excited and crossed my legs to hide it.
My adonis paid for his ticket and turned to face the crowd. As if drawn by the mysterious and magnetic cosmic forces of the universe, our eyes locked. The few seconds that passed by did so in what seemed like minutes. My eyes gripped his sparkling, emerald pools of radiating passion. I thought I was going to bust a nut and become a volcano of jizzim right there on the platform. He grinned ever so subtly; then, with ticket in hand, turned and disappeared back down the hallway. I didn't realize I was sitting on the edge of the bench until I tried to lean forward and instead fell off the bench. I landed as an embarrassed and horny heap on the concrete floor. I sighed, thinking what a trip this might turn out to be.
The old woman looked up from her magazine, smiling at the sight of me on the floor at her feet. I'm sure she saw the bulge in my jeans. I even blushed as she helped me up, never once ceasing her incessant humming. I brushed myself off then nearly jumped in her lap when out of the silence of the warm, slightly humid morning a blaring train whistle pierced the peaceful air surrounding the station. I turned myself around and smiled with delighted relief as the train finally made its approach. I couldn't wait to get on board and wondered if I would see my god in the maroon shirt during the trip. I definitely have to do some exploring, I thought to myself, watching the silver-nosed train roll slowly toward the station.