My Train Journeys - 1

By Jason Beau



(Category: Gay>Interracial)

This series is largely a work of fiction based on my encounters with travellers of other ethnicities. In my younger days, I traveled extensively around Europe on overnight trains. Those were memorable journeys spent chatting with strangers about all aspects of life. These encounters could have been much more sexed up, if only. But it's still not too late to fantasize what could have been. In order to keep the narrative flowing, I have not included any use of safe sex. However, the reader is cautioned on such important aspects of gay love-making. 


The names, places and events are fictional. Any resemblance to persons

living or dead is purely coincidental.


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Overnight Train from Paris to Rome


During my summer vacation in Paris as an exchange student, I decided to explore Europe on my own. The first city I had in mind was Rome, the eternal city. Train journeys were the best deal for the price and comfort. As a Eurasian with dark crewcut hair, tanned skin and pointy nose, I could blend in with most ethnicities.


So one Saturday evening found me waiting at the Gare de Lyon station for the overnight train to Rome, my Eurail pass in hand. As I didn't expect to stay more than a week in Italy, I backpacked a few articles of clothing suitable for the summer heat, and other essential toiletries.  For convenience, I also pressed in a pack of beer. 


To ensure a good rest before reaching my destination, I booked a first class couchette within a four-berth compartment.. There was one other passenger when I entered the compartment, a young white man-boy, perhaps just into his late teens. Dressed in a tight white tanktop and navy blue sweatpants, he was, well, a vision of stunning eye candy complete with a shock of blond hair forming a Beatles mop over his long arched eyebrows. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of reflective aviators.


Sitting close to the window with the evening sun streaming onto his upper torso, he exuded a relaxed confidence. Hi, he greeted me with a broad smile, flashing well kept teeth against luscious pink lips. "I'm Mitchell, but just call me Mitch," he introduced himself as he stretched out his right, well muscled arm. 

"Tommy here," as we grasped each other in a firm grip. "Thought there's one more in this cabin," I asked. "Oh, Goya just step out for a smoke," Mitch explained. Thinking back, he was a dead ringer for Kellen Lutz.


I sat on the berth opposite him and started a chat. He was from Bratislava, Slovak Republic, where he worked in parttime movie roles and some modelling assignments. I could see that he was well groomed, with polished fingernails and a designer's stubble. He didn't elaborate on his roles except that they mostly didn't need any dialogue. I guessed they were just bit parts and his name was most likely a pseudonym. When I told him I was an exchange student from Singapore, he broke into a broad smile and said his knowledge of English language came in handy when he last visited the island state several months back.


As everywhere in Europe, trains departed right on the minute. Soon we were pulling out of the station. Suddenly, without knocking, Goya pushed open the compartment door and stood framed against the doorway for several long seconds taking in the presence of his other two fellow passengers. Rather unexpectedly, Goya was a tall black man with short frizzy hair dyed white. He must be an athlete, his bulging biceps stretched his red polo t-shirt sleeves, and the veins on his wide neck swelled as he breathed. A gold earring adorned his right ear, and a multi-coloured bead wristband ringed his left wrist. His Nike shorts were perhaps a little tight, revealing a nice package at the crotch - his unmistakably well endowed manhood curving upwards to the right side. With his six foot three slim build and handsome face, he could pass as a top male model.


He extended his large right hand towards me as he spoke in a Caribbean accent. "I'm Goya from Jamaica." He nodded approvingly when I introduced myself.  


The lower berths were taken up by the other two passengers so I moved my backpack up to the upper berth over Mitch's. Next we decided to dine at the posh restaurant in the first class cabin. The food was certainly a gastronomic delight to our palates. We chatted as the train zipped through the rural landscapes, the summer sun colouring the twilight in deepening hues of purple. 


Goya was an aspiring fashion model for a new sports brand. His journey would take him to Milan for some shoots. Talking to him was like taking a trip across the cultural divides of America and Europe. He was equally at ease with the norms of both continents. 


By ten thirty, we retired back to our compartment. Goya pulled out a bottle of Bordeaux wine from his duffle bag. I sat on one berth facing the other two. As we drank, we decided to share interesting beach side stories. Perhaps my tongue was loosened by the alcohol. I started regaling them about my last visit to Australia's Bondi beach where big breasted girls casually removed their bras for a perfect tan, and muscular men paced around in tight speedos with little left to the imagination.


I was sure that the other two were exchanging glances although I wasn't sure why. After a while, a light drinker, I was knocked out on the berth where I sat. I was awakened by an urgent need to pee. The compartment was dark so I flicked on the seat light. A most shocking sight greeted me. Mitch was asleep with his head on Goya's upper thigh, naked except for a blanket around his waist. Goya, completely undressed, appeared to be dozing, his long uncut cock resting on Mitch's forehead. The L-formation was such that Mitch laid on the berth whilst Goya's feet were planted on the carpet floor, his back propped up by pillows.

I tried to open the door but Goya leg was in the way. As I tried to move his leg, Goya mumbled, "Wanna pee?" He reached for the empty wine bottle saying, "Use this." So I moved to the window and lowered my pants to answer nature's call. Feeling Goya's gaze on my back, I decided to play naughty and pulled down my Calvin Klein underwear. I had been complimented before for my round butts so I was curious how Goya would react. 

Having finished peeing, I turned around with my dick exposed. I was above average endowed and cut. A smile curved on Goya's lips. He gestured to me to move closer. Mitch made a slight movement and opened his mouth as if to snore. I removed my pants and underwear before moving over to Goya. He grabbed my knee with his strong hand and then released it, slowing stroking my inner thigh with his finger tips. A surge of pleasure shot through my groin, and my dick arched upwards. Suddenly, Mitch opened his eyes to glimpse at my semihard dick just hovering above his face.

Mitch sighed and slipped out if his blanket, revealing a raging hardon. He was also urgently needing to relieve himself. Mitch was bigger than me but clearly not up to Goya' size. The Jamaican took the wine bottle from me and handed it Mitch. "Use this," he repeated. Mitch proceeded to relieve himself facing Goya, his cock slit pushed against the bottle's top. Feeling a tremour under our feet, I move behind him and put out my hand to help him position his cock. It felt like thick in my hand, and I started to stroke it the way I normally jacked off myself. 

Mitch just let me continue stroking him when he stopped peeing. Goya was watching us intently, his own long cock now at vertical. Thick veins swelled out and his foreskin self-unwrapped from the head. "Show you something," he arched his lean body until his lips touched his cockhead. Then he slowly lowered his head to swallow the fully engorged monster cock. It disappeared about six inches into his mouth. The remaining four inches was ringed by curly pubes which also covered the area between his balls and arsehole.  

Mitch and I feasted our eyes on Goya as he made his up-down sucking rhythm on himself. After about ten times, he raised his head up with a mischievous grin on his face. He gestured with his finger that he wanted to fuck Mitch. Taking the invitation, the Slovak straddle himself over Goya's thighs. Their two cocks touched, and Goya gently rubbed the two cockheads together. Some precum started to ooze out from both of them and Goya used it to rub on his cock. The train was passing an orange light source which gave an eerie play on the two hardons joined by Goya's long fingers.

Mitch next positioned his butthole over the black man's cock and slowly impaled himself. The Slovak was clearly no newbie to this sort of sexplay. Mitch lowered and raised himself on his toes as he repeatedly pistoned on the black schlong to penetrate his innermost bowels. I moved forward to watch the action from the side. Mitch's conical mushroom head was swinging like a metronome. I felt an urge to give some satisfaction. Placing my head just above Goya's bellybutton, I caught Mitch's dick with my lips and allowed it to slide into my salivating mouth. No expert cocksucker, I started to gag after the boner pushed a little too deep.

I felt Goya's fingers on the nape of my neck gently caressing me. This young Jamaican sure knew how to arouse my desires. A tingle of pleasure shot down my spine. My balls retracted up into a tight ball. Mitch suddenly stopped his thrusting motions and stood on his toes. He exploded his cum into my eager mouth. It wasn't the tastiest of juices, but who cared?


Mitch moved away from Goya, freeing himself from my mouth. Goya picked up the wine bottle now filled with urine. "Wash it," he ordered me. I placed the trash bin under Goya's softening arched dick and poured the still-warm liquid onto the ten inch boner. Even in its semihard state, it exuded a power over me. As I was tissuing off the wetness, Goya grabbed my head with both his hands and forced me down to his urine-scented cock. Desperate to please, I began to lick up and down the length of Goya's manhood. Then I flipped it upwards so the head rested on his navel, exposing his a flared slit. With a firm grip I held the cock around the middle as I tongued the slit, pushing my tip into the small hole. Goya began to moan.


Then I felt Mitch's hands grasping my butts, pulling them apart to expose my male pussy. Mitch spat on his hand and rub the spit onto my butt entrance. His middle finger made circles round my puckered hole. "Relax," he whispered. I almost screamed out in pain when his thick tool pushed in. Next, Mitch began his pumping action as he ravaged my virgin tumnel.  


Goya had returned to a hard state. He held my head as he fucked my face. Thus savagely Invaded at both ends, I was one moment at the heights of ecstasy, another at the edge of helplessness. The pain-pleasure sensation went on for a few minutes. Then Mitch grabbed my balls and played with them as he made my cock gyrate in circles. I couldn't cry out as Goya was still rammed up my throat. Suddenly, Goya released his grip on my face and moved aside to stand up. Mitch shot his load into my bowels and slowly withdrew his softening dick. As his jism leaked backed out, he started to smear it over my cock and abdomen using his hands..  


Goya had finished peeing and was now resting flat on his berth, his limp cock pointing at his face, his large balls hanging between his flared thighs. His magnificently sculpted torso could still send a flush of jealousy through me to this day, and formed part of my masturbation imagery for many years. Mitch picked up a towel and went out to wash himself. It was almost four in the morning. Soon it would be daybreak.  


Goya looked straight into my eyes and asked, "Like it?" He must have read the craving in my eyes. "Sit here," he gestured to a space on his berth next to his hip. I did as told, and he pulled off my t-shirt by the collar. Fully unsheathed, my cock hardened again in expectation. He took hold of my right wrist and pulled my hand to his well-developed right nipples. "Play with me, man,". I made circles of gentle massages as he moaned softly. "I haven't shot my load," I whispered at his ear pleadingly.


Goya obligingly raised both his legs, exposing his butthole ringed by a thicket of curly pubic hair. I knelt facing Goya to position my cockhead at his dark entrance. I spat into my hand and started to invade his love tunnel with my fingers with the help of my lube. "Hehe, it's good, go for it," he murmured. Thus encouraged, I pushed my slim six inch dick past his sphincter, and paused. Goya reached out to my dick and, grabbing it tightly, pushed it deeper into his bowels. Then he held my hip on both sides and got me to make back and forth motions so my dick would impale into his tight tunnel and reemerge halfway. I pushed in till my balls hit his anal pubes repeatedly. On the way out, the curls tickled my shaft.


After what seemed like thirty strokes, I couldn't hold back any longer. Sensing my approaching climate, he whispered, "Take it out." I shot my cum at his balls and pubes, creating white wads of sticky fluid on his ebony skin. "Lick," he commanded. Obediently, I bent forward to slurp off the cum. Maybe it was just a mind thing but my cum mixed with Goya's sweat was way tastier than Mitch's load earlier. Then I laid down on top of Goya's body whilst he held both our soft dicks together in his big hand. Mitch came back from his shower; his eyes widened at the visual spectacle of a bronze-skin boy on top of a black man.  


The train made an announcement of an approaching station. Reluctantly, I got off Goya's body and took my turn to wash. As I looked back from the open door, Mitch was placing his semihard dick on Goya's lips.  


After all three of us had cleaned up and thrown some light clothing over our bodies, we made our way to the restaurant for an early breakfast. You can guess we bonded much better and thoroughly enjoyed our last meal together. Goya had to disembark for a connecting train to Milan. Meanwhile, Mitch caught the fancy of a Thai boy at the restaurant. The two went back to our compartment, Mitch palms on the Asian's bum as they walked past. I continued sitting at the bar to watch TV.  


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