Classmates In A Caboose

They were classmates, Robert and the two women whose names were Lenore and Christie. They sat together, in the back of the room, while Professor Hilroy went on and on about sociology. The lectures were a little dry but he's get excited when students would raise their hands to make points in class so it wasn't all bad. This was summer school at Indiana University and class met four days a week, from 9.30 until noon.

So the week-end started on Thursday afternoon and this Thursday the three of them were in Christie's car heading south to a place she knew where they could swim. It was a VW beetle, a tiny convertible, and the top was down. Robert was hunched in the miniscule back seat, Christie was driving and Lenore had shotgun. Hot wind buffeted them all and whipped Christie's long blonde hair into Robert's face. The radio was cranked up and they were all singing along. They were classmates—they didn't even know each other's last names.

Robert asked what kind of a place it was they were going and Christie said that it was an old quarry and that usually there was nobody else there and they could go in naked. "You guys are OK with skinny-dipping, right?" she said as she scanned the road ahead for landmarks.

"I hate my clothes," Lenore responded, "I can't wait to get these goddamn things off my body."

"Why wait?" Christie said. "There's nobody on this road but us chickens."

Lenore laughed and pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it into Robert's lap. No bra. "I love the feel of the sun on my tits!" she shouted.

Christie pushed her shades up into her hair and glanced over at Lenore. "Honey, you've got some nice nips," she said.

Behind Christie Robert cocked his head for the side view but Lenore saw him looking and turned in her seat to give him a better gander. Christie was right—Lenore was small-breasted but her nipples were something else. They were big and dark red and they jutted out from her tits like they had a mind of their own. Lenore smiled at him and tapped her teeth with the tip of her tongue.

Robert's cock had a mind of its own too—it was straining to get out of his shorts and into the front seat to meet and greet Lenore. Robert's cock wanted to lay its burden down, it wanted to lose itself in the corridor of that smile where Lenore's quick pink tongue would take over its education and bring it to the seat of higher learning. "Do you like 'em Robert?" Lenore asked.

"Bus coming," Christie said matter-of-factly.

It was in the opposing lane, a big red and white Indiana Trailways. Lenore crossed her arms over her naked chest and smiled up at the driver as the bus rolled by. Robert saw the man's head jerk but the bus didn't swerve.

"OK," Christie said, "here's the train track crossing so we're almost there." They'd been paralleling the railroad since they left Bloomington but now it crossed the highway at an angle and disappeared into the trees to the east, to their left. Robert had studied maps of the area and knew it to be the old Monon line to Louisville. Not much traffic on it now from the wavy look of the rails.

A hundred feet further up the road Christie turned onto a barely paved lane. They bumped over the potholes for half a mile and then she eased the car off onto a cleared area by a metal No Trespassing sign nailed to a tree. She grabbed a daypack from the trunk and they were off down a trail into a copse of woods. Lenore had collected her t-shirt but hadn't put it back on. All three were wearing shorts and Robert, not quite knowing what to make of all this, was glad that his were baggy enough to hide his continuing reaction to Lenore's boobs.

Christie had on a man's shirt that was way big for her, that flopped over one shoulder or another. She unbuttoned it and pulled it off as they walked and tied its sleeves around her waist. She was wearing a black bra and Lenore said it wasn't fair for her tits to be covered when she—Lenore—was half-naked.

"Well," said Christie, "if you insist and if cute-boy here will hold my bag for a moment I'll let you see the full monty." Robert held her book-bag and Christie reached around and undid her snaps—she shucked the bra off and stuffed it and her shirt into the mouth of the bag as Robert tried to keep his cool. Her tits were bigger than Lenore's but not by much and her nipples were smaller and almost bright red and their tips were perfect little knobs. Robert's cock was so hard that it ached. He liked that she'd called him "cute-boy."

"You got some nice boobies, too, girlfriend," Lenore said and reached over to balance one in the palm of her hand. Then she let her hand wander up over the surface of the other woman's breast and she rotated her palm and teased Christie's nipple that way until Christie, very softly, said "Oh," at which point Lenore leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. Then she pulled back, smiled, and kissed her again.

Robert saw Christie open her mouth for Lenore's second foray and now he watched their lips grip and loosen and rearrange themselves as the kiss got serious, as they got their bodies into the whole event. It was a hot day and Robert observed how their tits and bellies were glistening with sweat as they pressed and slid against one another. It was a very hot day indeed and Robert, still holding Christie's bookbag, felt like he was heat itself. Now Christie drew back a little so she could lick Lenore's full lips and her eyes and neck too: Robert had never seen a tongue as long as Christie's—it came way out of her mouth, almost like the tongue of an animal. Then, suddenly, she stopped licking and dropped to her knees right in the middle of the path and rubbed her face back and forth against Lenore's crotch. She reached up and hooked her fingers into the elastic of Lenore's shorts and Robert could see that she about to pull them down when he heard voices in the woods behind him.

"People coming," he said.

He tossed Christie's shirt to her and the two women's tits disappeared into their tops just as a troop of high school kids lugging coolers and a grill hove into view. Everyone exchanged greetings and Robert and Christie and Lenore stepped aside to let them pass noisily by. "They're going to have a g.d. picnic," Christie muttered.

And indeed they were. The trail arrived at the quarry a little ways on and the kids were setting up the grill and some had stripped to their suits and were leaping into the water and screaming as they leapt. Robert and the two women paused and walked on, following the curve of the quarry, following the path. And suddenly they came upon the railroad track that they'd crossed in the car. On it sat a line of boxcars with a red caboose coupled in among them.

The tracks hugged the edge of the quarry. "I bet this is how they hauled marble out of here in the old days," Robert said. Christie and Lenore had climbed up onto the platform of the caboose; the door to the cabin was padlocked but Christie discovered that it had been padlocked carelessly and that the arm slipped right out of the body of the lock. Christie pushed on the door and it swung open. "Ooh," said Lenore, "it's nice in here." And it was: two bunk beds, one on either side of the car, a desk with a leather-covered chair, a shiny metal washbasin. Ladders on both sides gave access to the cupola, where pairs of leather seats faced one another, one set on each side of the caboose. Christie said, "I thought these things went at the

end

of the train."

Robert had joined them inside the car. "They don't use cabooses anymore," he said, "and the railroads are selling them off to individuals, regular people." He'd seen a line of them for sale, he said, on the south side of town, and this one had probably been bought and, by the look of it, fixed up, and was being shipped off to the new owner as part of a freight train. They looked out the window and saw the high school kids gathered around the grill.

"We can swim later," Christie said, "after they go home." And then, looking at Robert and Lenore, "Right now I want to fuck."

She slipped two of her fingers into the band of Lenore's shorts. "I'll get to you in a moment," she said to Robert, "but when those kids showed up I was about to eat Lenore's pussy, and I've been thinking about that ever since. But I have to be polite." And then, looking into Lenore's eyes: "Mother, may I?"

Robert remembered the old permission games from kindergarten. He'd always found them tedious but the kindergarten girls had liked playing them over and over, never tiring of the ritual.

"Simon says, eat my pussy," Lenore whispered.

Robert began to find the ritual interesting. He watched as Lenore's shorts seemed to float to the floor of the caboose. In an instant Christie was on her knees again, kissing and licking Lenore's thighs, her beautiful thighs, and slowly making her way north to the subtly bisected V where they ended. Lenore's shorts had pooled around her feet and now Lenore stepped out of them and out of her sandals and lay back on one of the bunks and spread her legs wide. Her cunt was the most lovely thing Robert had ever seen—its pouty lips and the little jut at the top where her clit was crouching. Christie was staring too and breathing deep. "I love that you shave your pussy," she said, "and I love the way you smell."

And then she stuck her long tongue as far as it would go inside Lenore.

Lenore opened her eyes wide and said "Oh, mama," and Christie just kept right on licking and licking, teasing and thrusting. She had her hands up under Lenore's t-shirt and Robert could see them moving over Lenore's tits. "Oh, mama," Lenore said again, softer this time, and then she murmured it a couple more times and then she just moaned.

Robert sat down on the opposite bunk and watched the back of Christie's head bobbing and thought hard thoughts about her promise to get to him in a moment. He stared at the bulge his cock was making in his shorts. Then Lenore called his name and he was at her side in a second. "Hold my hand," she said softly.

She intertwined the fingers of her left hand with Robert's and let her right hand wander through the blonde storm of Christie's hair. Christie's hands stayed active at Lenore's tits and in a moment Robert heard Lenore's breath change and she squeezed his hand tighter. Robert thought his fingers might break but he didn't complain.

"I'm coming," she said, plain and without inflection, as though she were announcing the time on the radio.

But then she trilled a chain of vowels that got loud and then louder and her back arched and she pushed her bare feet against the floor of the caboose and her ass left the bunk and she pressed her cunt hard against Christie's incredible mouth and she came shrieking, like she was an airplane breaking the sound barrier.

"I felt the fucking earth move," she whispered a moment later when her breathing had slowed down enough for words. "It actually fucking

moved

. And it hasn't stopped yet. Girl, you are good."

But Robert had realized that it was the train that was moving.

He gently let go of Lenore's hand and looked out the window over her head. They weren't flying along but they were picking up speed.

Christie's face was suddenly next to his. "Well this is an interesting turn of events, " she said. "How fast do you think we're going?" Her face was wet and Robert could smell Lenore.

"About twenty miles an hour," he said. He could feel the speed leveling off. "It's not really all that that fast but we'd have an even chance of breaking some bones if we tried to bail, so I think we're on for the duration."

"Where do you think we're going?" Christie wanted to know.

"We'll go through Bedford," Robert said, "but we're likely being delivered to the main line down in Mitchell. It's about fifty miles so it'll take a couple of hours, maybe three. These tracks are pretty bad. When we get close they'll slow way down, down to walking speed, and we can roll off then and figure out how to get back up to Bloomington. I think there's a bus."

Christie looked at him, amazed. "How do you know this stuff?" she asked.

"I like maps and trains and schedules," he said, suddenly embarrassed. "I like knowing where stuff is."

"I think that's cool," Lenore said, as she sat up and joined them at the window. "So we're on an adventure and besides I love riding the train," she added.

"You love riding my face, honey," Christie said.

Lenore smiled and moved closer and suddenly Christie gasped. Robert looked down and saw Lenore's hand inside the other woman's shorts, saw the outline of Lenore's fingers at Christie's cunt. "I know what

you

love," Lenore said, "I know you're a finger slut."

She pulled her hand out of Christie's shorts and took hold of Robert's fingers. "Feel her," she said, "she's a bushy girl but feel how soft her hair is." Robert let Lenore move his hand down Christie's front and suddenly there was a tickle and a soft bristle against his fingertips and then there was the slippery wetness of her vagina. Lenore's fingers guided Robert's—she stroked the back of his hand as she maneuvered him onto the small bump of the other woman's clit. "Be gentle, now," Lenore said, "just like in the song—she needs a man with a slow hand." Christie turned her face to Robert and Robert felt like his hand was on fire.

"I love train rides," Lenore said again.

They'd left the woods and were rocking across some open country. Farm buildings and a house shimmered in the distance and Robert continued to tease Christie. They drifted across a bridge over a wide creek—below them, a little man in a canoe was fishing. The train rounded a bend and the classmates caught sight, for the first time, of the engine—a single big yellow and blue diesel with a picture of a sleeping cat on the side. Greasy black exhaust chuffed out of its smokestack and they could hear the laboring stride that was taking them south. Tentatively, with Lenore's hand now at his wrist, Robert moved his middle finger down beyond Christie's clitoris and slipped it into her cunt.

At that point Christie disengaged herself from Robert and Lenore and retreated to the bunk across the caboose. Robert was petrified, afraid he'd gone too far. He started to apologize but Christie cut him off.

"Robert," she said, "will you please take off my shorts for me? It's too hot to be wearing clothes and I'm tired from making Lenore come and I liked your finger in my twat so much that I think I need to do something with you." She raised her legs, kicked off her sandals and flexed her long toes.

Robert's hands shook as he pulled Christie's shorts down her legs. He folded them quickly and set them next to her on the bunk. Lenore giggled.

"Robert," Christie said, "can you get my panties too?"

She lifted herself from the bunk and Robert took her underpants off revealing the thick yellow curls that had tickled and delighted his fingers so. Robert watched, mesmerized, as Christie twirled a wisp of pubic hair with her fingers.

"Do you like them hairy or do you like them bald," she asked.

Robert glanced back at Lenore. She had sat back down on the bunk and she smiled and winked at him and let her hand drift over her smooth mons. Both women were now naked from the waist down.

"And Robert," Lenore said, "you never answered my question about whether or not you liked my tits." Once again, she pulled her shirt over her head, tousling her thick hair a little. She ran her hand over her big nipples and Robert stared. "So do you like 'em, Robert?" Lenore asked.

"They're beautiful," he stammered.

"Do you like

my

tits, Robert?" Christie asked. She took off her shirt and placed her hands underneath her breasts, bouncing them.

"They're gorgeous," Robert breathed.

"So do you like bald pussies or hairy pussies?" Christie asked again.

Robert felt giddy and dumbstruck. "I like 'em both," he stammered.

Christie, unfazed, continued to tease her pubic hair. "Robert," she said, "there are two naked girls here with their hands in the cake." She was right—both she and Lenore were now completely nude and rubbing their pussies. "Why are you still dressed?"

"Good point," said Lenore, imitating Professor Hilroy, "good point indeed."

"Robert," said Christie, continuing the imitation, "it is incumbent upon you to remove your clothing and—how might I put it without seeming too crude?—fuck me."

"Robert," said Lenore, back in her own voice, "I'm kind of a come-freak. Do you mind if I beat off while I watch you and Christie make the beast with two backs?"

"If you'd like, that'd be fine," Robert said. "I mean, I'm cool. Like whatever." He was trying not to stare at Lenore's pussy, was trying to not watch the intricacy of her fingers as they teased her clit. "Really. Whatever you want to do is OK by me if you know what I mean."

Lenore laughed. "Stop babbling and go to Christie over there," she said, "but you save some jizz for me, OK?"

"Robert," Christie said.

Robert peeled off his t-shirt. He was skinny and pale and breathing hard.

"Simon says, suck my tits first and then fuck me," Christie said again, softer this time. "Please."

He pulled off his shorts and jockeys—almost falling over in the process—and held them up in front of his cock.

"Come here," Christie said, gently sweeping Robert's bundle onto the floor of the caboose. She held him by his hipbones and moved her face close to his cock. A fat drop of pre-cum had formed at its end and Christie nabbed it with the tip of her nose. The clear liquid made a suspension bridge between them. Robert had never been harder in his nineteen years on earth. "I like your penis," she said and then had him turn around and show it to Lenore.

"Nice," Lenore said. She leaned forward and gave it three tiny kisses. "Now go back there and stick that nice stick into Christie."

Christie lay back on the bunk bed and Robert knelt between her legs and kissed her neck and her breasts; he sucked her nipples, as he had been instructed, and felt them get a little big in his mouth. Her body was hot and salty—she tasted good. Christie reached up and cupped his balls in one hand and stroked his cock with her other. "Robert honey, you're shaking," she said. "Just relax."

Relax? Robert had left the family farm just a year ago and he had never been naked with a woman before. Everything, up until this moment, had been strictly above the waist. He'd had bare tit twice from his high school girlfriend but she'd never touch his cock, even through his pants, and she'd gone to school in New York anyway and the last year—his freshman year at Indiana—had been long and dry, even for a shy boy from the country. And now here he was in this caboose, naked himself and poised above his truly gorgeous naked classmate who was urging him to relax.

The train lurched and Robert fell forward on top of Christie, his cock on her belly. "Try again," she laughed, and then took hold of him and guided his penis inside her.

Robert came immediately. Jism shot out of his cock in three or four or maybe six spurts and he thought, for a second, that his heart too was about to be sucked down and pulled into the intricacies of Christie's cunt and that that would be OK. His chest and his feet and legs tingled and then burned and ached with pleasure and the big head of his cock felt like a live wire, a conduit receiving jolt after jolt of pure energy and throwing off energy wildly, ecstatically, in return. His eyes clamped shut and his mouth dropped open in wordless joy. This was religion and Robert had converted suddenly and irrevocably—he was a true believer. He never wanted to stop the worship, he never wanted to take his cock out of Christie's divine and slippery cathedral.