Silky Adventures 16

Chapter #16

Taking the Train to New Orleans

I'm Silky -- I'm Over 18 and I live with Jessica & George -- I've got all that stuff in my other diary entries, ooops, I mean fantasies.

We went to New Orleans earlier this year, for a long weekend. It wasn't Mardi Gras, but that's not really the best time to see the Crescent City, anyway; too crowded, too drunk.

I have to say that riding the train is very nice. We parked our car about 50 feet from the tracks, and a porter took our bags from that spot to our seats. We didn't have to do anything!

We had a first class cabin; it has two beds and a private bath. There are huge windows and you can walk from one end of the train to the other! And there is a dining car, and all the food is free. An airplane is very nice for some things (like mile-high stuff) but it is really great to be able to walk down to lunch.

We carried a big basket of fresh fruit (No vegetables, I can't let George get any more ideas like that.) After the first giddy excitement wore off, and after about an hour of listening to my iPod (I have one of the new Nanos that has a camera in it.) I got bored. Bored. Bored. Jessica was dozing, and this bubble of spit started coming in and out of her mouth. I took four pictures of her, she will kill me when she sees them on Facebook. George was asleep, too. Bored, Bored.

So I took my panties off and put them over Jess's head, and took pics of that for a while, but she was still asleep. So I ate an orange, but half-way through I had an idea. I carefully cleaned one section of it, and slowly inserted it in J's nostril. Wonderful picture!

She still didn't wake up, so I jerked her panties off (she actually had some on, for a change) and put the orange section right between her labia. It was hard to take a photo, because I didn't have a flash, but I liked it. The color of her shaved sex contrasted nicely with the ocherous hue.

She had one little pubic hair she had somehow missed in her obsessive pruning, so I grabbed it and jerked it out. I was just helping. She woke up then, and didn't appreciate the seriousness of my boredom. Her noise woke up George, and then everyone was mad at me, like I did something wrong!

So that's why I got banned from my own car! I was wearing this outfit I loved; it has a tight black top that shows my shoulder blades in back, and almost as much in front. But the Skirt! It is like a Hawai'in grass skirt, except it's not grass, it's cotton. Is that a grass? It's a plant, I use organics only, except for hose, 'cause they don't make those from plants. But I'm pretty sure the Polynesians used leaves or something different from cotton... Anyway,

Did I mention it's all black? The skirt part has little horizontal fibers so it stays in place, but when I walk you know you are seeing through it, when it sways. It's real lacey. I put on white short shorts under it, so it's even more evident that the skirt is full of openings. I also wear black panties under the shorts; I wouldn't wear black under white except with these, because people looking at my ass can't really tell what's what.

I stomped to the dining car. Free food, right? So I got a double large order of fries with ketchup, and tried to eat my way out of a bad mood. I piled them in squares like a little log cabin. I made a teepee with ketchup on top. I made a fort to protect the settlers from the Indians who lived in the teepee. I made some dead Native Americans and covered their bodies with 'blood.' I dropped a handful in my lap!

Ketchup doesn't show on black, but does it ever on white! I grabbed my napkin, stuck it in my water glass and tried desperately to wipe it off. I pulled my skirt up and rubbed as hard as I could on my crotch. Movement caught the corner of my eye, and I looked up to see a pair of waiters in starched white coats who were immobilized and exopthalmic.

"What?" Ok, I was being a bitch. "It's not what you think! I'm not frigging myself!"

They scurried away with that, and I gave up, shucked the pants, and piled them under my napkin. Let the bus-boy figure that out! I wanted to go back to my cabin. So I did.

The shade was pulled down, but there was a tiny crack, and I peeked in. I had already texted Jess about a hundred times, with no response. Maybe they were still asleep. But when peeked, I saw George's ass moving up & down in a very specific manner.

They were fucking! Without me! I edged around a little, and I could see Jessie's blonde hair flowing down the side of the bed. George was holding her upper arms, and pounding away. Her extremely long legs were wrapped where her heels were caught right at his butt. The little slut was humping up to meet every thrust, pounding herself against his wonderful silken rod while he drove into her to his hilt. It was so not fair! She got to cum while I stood in the corridor.

I snuck one finger just barely beneath my panties and rubbed myself just enough to reinforce my frustration. Here I was, pussy lips all wet and swollen, no pants, willing, Hell, eager to fuck him, and I've been dumped out of the room. Not fair! About then I saw his cheeks clench as I'm sure he flooded her loose whore cunt with his magical effluence. What should have been fire in my loins was anguish. I ran to hide my tears.

I took pictures of the train, and the hallway, and the bathroom. After I had wandered forever in the train, I saw a sign on a door that said "No Admittance -- Authorized Personnel Only." Hey, I'm in First Class, which makes me authorized, right? So I went in.

The rooms we rode in were castles compared to this rubbish heap. Bunk beds and dirt. But there were some guys in the back, sitting around a table. I crept up, and they were playing poker. George loves poker, and Jess (the cunt) and I play with him all the time. We always play 'for real,' 'cause he says that we need to be serious about what we bet. We are very good. The stakes are higher than you would dream.

"Hiya guys! Can I play?" I asked.

"Miss, you shouldn't be back here," a tall black man said.

"Wait, Joe." Another porter said. "You got money?"

"J.D., it don't matter what she gots, she can't be back here."

"I don't have any money, but I'll play for my clothes." The other conversations stood still. I think I heard a cricket chirping somewhere.

"For your clothes?" Joe finally whispered.

"Dawg, we can't do this. You gone get us motherfuckers fired!" Another guy interjected.

"Yeah. He's right. Sorry, ma'am, but you needs to get on up about yo business." Joe appeared to be the natural leader.

"You don't want to touch these?" I cupped my breasts. "Just a little tiny bit? Just one little touch? Just once? Just, just like one time?" I squeezed and rolled my shoulders. "You gotta see 'em before you can touch 'em."

Joe licked his protuberant lips slowly, calculating. He took a shuddering breath, and let it out slowly. His eyes never left my tits.

"Deal her in," he said.

"Yeah! I'll start with my shoes." I slipped my slippers onto their table, and sat in a vacant chair.

They all decided to join in on this, and soon were wheeling tickets to all of us. I had two pair, but I folded.

"Guess I'll have to bet my shirt," I said, and dumped it in the pile. I don't think anyone there would have heard a gunshot had one been fired.

In ninety minutes or so, I was sitting there in my underwear, with my clothes and all of theirs in a pile at my side. This might not totally mitigate my pain, but it helped. I smiled my brightest when J.D. angrily dropped his jockeys in my stack.

"Ready for another hand?" I asked.

"What we gone bet with, woman? You got our uniforms and our paychecks."

"Have you ever heard of 'betting your ass'?"

So that's why I had Joe bent over the table whacking his butt with his own belt. Hey, it felt good to blow off some steam. With every slap he sucked in a breath, and his male package bounced.

"I always thought black guys were proud of their size," I laughed. "That thing's about as shriveled as a shoelace."

"Let me whip yo pink little ass and I'll show you a hard black cock," he said.

"You got plenty of condoms?" I asked. George is big on condoms.

So that's why I was bent over the same table, roles reversed, letting Joe vent his frustrations on my backside, which was now more red than pink. He was truthful, as a mighty mast of meat had risen from the dead once he was in control of the belt. Several others were vying for a chance to give me my first taste of the dark side. I slipped my pale little hand around the velvet ink of J.D.'s swollen member. It certainly felt like a white cock, just darker. I titillated his engorgement with my middle finger, rubbing that special spot under the head.

"That is a mighty fine dick, I have to say," I growled.

"What the Fuck is going on in here?" An angry male voice bellowed.

Apparently Mr. Davis was the head conductor, or boss somehow over these other guys. He walked in on a group of naked African Americans gathered in a cluster with erections all pointing at a tiny little defenseless and disrobed carrot head -- me. Apparently they were beating me with a belt, a prelude to rapine. Mr. Davis was not happy.

"Sir, your daughter accidentally got into a restricted area. I need for you to confine her to your cabin except for meals, sir." I hid behind the boss's back, as I thought George would be really mad.

"Silky, thank God you're ok! We were worried about you!" He hugged me tight. George wouldn't say that just to sound good in front of others. He said it, he meant it. Jessie even had tears running down her cheeks, as she joined the group hug. I knew he wasn't mad after the Davis guy left, as Jess began to ravish me with her tongue.

She fed me a section of an orange with her mouth, pushing it into mine like it was part of her. As I opened for it, I bit down, and our lips meshed as the sweet juice flowed. I swallowed, and licked the excess off her mouth as she did mine. We devoured a whole fruit, one section at a time. When we finished we were both covered with citrus nectar, and had to do lots of lapping to get things clean. My heart was also restored, back with my people. George, as always, loved our shows.

As he peeled away my clothes, he found the belt marks.

"How did you get these?" He wondered aloud.

"I played 'bet your ass' just like we do at home. I wound up on the wrong end."

Well, rubbing and petting my sore spots soon led to a very nice situation. Jessica and I continued to make out, while Mr. G slid under us. I watched his hard member slip into J's slot as I felt his tongue probe my asshole. She was riding him hard, and our nipple ornaments clinked together in a happy family rhythm. His handle coruscated in the light as it pulled in and out between complete penetrations.

I broke lip lock long enough to murmur, "Yess, yes, lick my ass hole just like that."

My words tipped the scale for him as he exploded his consommé into Jess. I folded back and let her rotate to sit on my face, so that she could tighten her abdomen and force his fluids, and hers, into my delighted mouth. The taste of orange, strawberry, Jessie's juices, and George's ambrosia were the tastes and smells of home. He waers Jil Saunder's 'Background' and I always know the smell. My heart swelled. George began to give me fatherly licks and kisses between my legs. (It's fatherly in my family!) I couldn't stop smiling with joy.

As I washed all the gang's combination down my throat, I looked overhead, between her legs, and saw the platform of the Hushpuppy, Mississippi, train station slide into view. A dozen people were avidly watching Jessie's nude buttocks with my red hair and very red face between her thighs.