The Train: A Story
A collaboratively written story
A note for those following along: This story, now completed, was written collaboratively. Each contribution has been tagged with the author’s name.
I have removed the list of tags that was here because I have a sneaking suspicion that the sheer number of tags on this post caused Substack to suppress it, but for more information on the project, take a look at this post.
Ready? Let’s go!
We pull out of the station now, whistle blowing, with this opener from the inimitable Kate Valentine
Vera hated trains. She hated the noise. The smell, the proximity to other people. But she hated her ex-husband more, and that was enough to push her into buying the last first class one way ticket out of the city. There were no flights, she had forgotten to learn how to drive while socializing at the club, the bus was unthinkable - so the train it was, a window seat and a hip flask full of vodka for good measure.
Denzel on the other hand, adored them. The sound of the tracks, the rhythmic movement of the carriages as the last of the city disappeared, making way for the countryside. The countryside that promised a reunion of sorts. He almost didn’t dare to think about it. But he was, the bulge in his trousers confirms it as he let his mind wander to the satin of her knickers...
”You’re in my seat,”
Over to you, Vianne Armour!
said a voice that melded sweet but husky in one tantalizing tone.
Denzel lifted his eyes, met by a thirty-something woman in a fitted dress suit and shoulder pads. He felt like a decade check as Duran Duran songs rattled his ears and her height and power took his breath.
Heels, who wore heels any more? he thought, his bulge growing even more as if in response to the question.
He popped a modest, “My apologies, please take the seat and I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name. I’m Denzel.”
“Enchanté,” she responded. “I’m Kiera,” offering a hand for him to kiss the back of whilst her clutch bag sat tightly gripped in the other.
And now for YourSecretNeeds’s addition:
Vera felt a pang of realisation run through her. She had changed her name. In an instant. No thought, no planning.
Well, she had thought about it, about changing everything about herself. Separate her husband and the life she had with him from her future. But she hadn’t meant to do it then, hadn’t worked out what would suit her, and now she had done it on the spur of the moment. Something else that wasn’t like her.
Oh well, from now on she would be Kiera. Kiera sounded much more fun, younger, more hip and sexy than a Vera. She was already thinking of Vera as another person. People could really love a Kiera.
“Denzel is a nice name, it suits you.” She tried a sexy smile, she tried to be free, easy, live for the moment Kiera, not stuck up, stuffy old fashioned Vera.
She glanced down at his crotch as he made to move and let her have the seat. A bulge! A huge and defined bulge! She was already having an effect on other people that she never had as Vera.
One deliberate name change later, we are ready for Ella Light:
Denzel noticed Kiera glance at his crotch and hurried to sit in the seat opposite her, banging his knee hard on the underside of the little table. Christ, this woman had scrambled his mind and all they’d done was say hello.
“I have to face forwards,” Kiera said.
Denzel’s mind skidded through a few scenarios, then realised she meant on a train.
“Oh, right, yeah. No problem.” In the silence, he couldn’t meet her eyes.
“You’re blushing, Denzel. What are you thinking about?”
Vera was astonished at her own audacity. She was deliberately goading this poor man. But it felt exciting, and Kiera was a woman who pursued excitement.
“I’m, um-” You’ve got no chance here, Denzel reminded himself. “-meeting someone later. An ex. Are you? Meeting someone, I mean?”
“I have no plans at present. I have escaped a depressingly sexless marriage and got on this train to see what happens next.”
Vera and Denzel were equally surprised to hear her say this.
“You don’t have anywhere to stay?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m staying at The Arnos Manor on a recommendation. We could share a taxi if you wanted to get a room there…? I don’t mean…just, it looks nice on the site.”
Vera wondered if others had been enjoying her social awkwardness this much all her life.
“I would like that. Thank you. I may need to stop on the way to buy something more…relaxing to wear.”
She leaned back and looked out the window, carefully extending one foot so it rested against his.
The atmosphere is as electric as the third rail! What will P. K. Hofferman (Kinky Ink) do with this?
Denzel questioned how they were 1200 miles from the city and his aching cock wasn’t in her mouth yet. Doesn’t lust in first class work that way? In the time they journeyed from Kingston, through Ventnor, Yarmouth, and East Cowes, he’d noticed Kiera’s gaze.
Locked in. Ravenous.
Must I always be the object of such wanton attention? He wondered why she’d written him that way. Mr. Synecdoche. Sat there, his mind auditioning for the role she’d cast him in.
They stared across at each other like lascivious wallflowers. Daring the dance. Seeking the courage to unfurl. Envisioning his hand on her hem. Her fingers undoing.
The train’s sudden slack action caused him to buckle as he lurched toward her lap.
Fate dictated his first move. His palms caught himself on her thighs, now splayed under the pressure.
Kiara’s skirt exposed her secrets. The darkness that seeped across her silk. The train’s rhythmic oscillations vibrating through her core hadn’t helped. Neither had Mr. Synecdoche. She was a real live wire.
“Let’s do away with these Harlequin niceties,” Denzel’s thumb pressed into her upper thigh.
“No one’s touched me there in a damn hot minute.”
Her legs forgave his advances.
Chappell Roan played in her head.
“You smell hot to go,” he smirked.
“This is cringe.” She scooted forward to give better access.
Not that he needed it.
“May I?” Denzel’s eyes captivated her craving.
Vera/Kiara considered how long it’d been since she’d experienced a real man’s touch.
“Fuck! Yes!”
Denzel’s fingers teased the seams of her. Traced her want with thick fingers. He knelt there, surveyed her sex encased in silk taut against her cleft.
To Vera, this marked a fissure of her old self into the new.
For Denzel recognized his ability to usher her into finding herself.
I trust that Chris Shallow MSc will forgive me, but he wrote this in advance due to traveling plans (how ironic!) and while it’s not a direct fit to what P. K. Hofferman (Kinky Ink) finished on, I made a couple of tiny edits that made it fit, rather than make him rewrite it. Mainly because the scenario amuses me. I’ve marked the bits which I added in italics.
The door of the First Class compartment slid open, the sound sending Denzel leaping to his feet and nearly falling backwards into his seat as Kiera herself hissed in frustration and clamped her knees shut so hard she was sure it would bruise.
The ticket collector’s shadow reached them before his voice did. He had the sort of face that believed every passenger was trying to pull a fast one.
‘Tickets, please.”
It is impossible to tell from his voice what, if anything, he’d seen. Or if he even cared beyond ensuring that they had paid the appropriate amount to travel in First Class.
Kiera reached automatically for her handbag.
Nothing.
Her hand stopped.
She could feel Denzel watching the pause rather than the hand itself.
“It’s here somewhere,” she said, hearing at once how unconvincing she sounded.
Kiera’s easy confidence was already giving way to something more cautious, more Vera.
Then she remembered.
The flask. The platform. The last-minute decision to keep the one thing that truly mattered tucked safely against her skin, where no pickpocket—and certainly no husband—could get at it.
“Allow me,” said Denzel. “I have spent years cultivating the sort of peripheral vision very few gentlemen possess.”
Kiera did not wait for him to lean any closer.
With a briskness that was rather more determined than dignified, she opened her dress suit jacket and reached for the top button of her blouse.
The first button gave easily.
The second required a little more patience.
And by the third, the ticket inspector had finally forgotten the job at hand and, judging by the expression on his face, his own name.
Beneath it, nipples straining against fire-engine-red lace, was a bosom that made the whole compartment feel smaller. Denzel’s peripheral vision, it turned out, was no longer required.
“Now,” said Kiera, though she was no longer entirely certain whether it was Kiera speaking or Vera, or someone neither of them had met yet. “It’s in there somewhere. Shall we all look properly?”
As Kiera leaves Vera far, far in the rearview mirror, it’s up to Sloane Black to help her discover who she’s becoming!
The ticket inspector stood frozen, his official little clipboard suddenly irrelevant. Fire-engine-red lace cradled Kiera’s breasts, the sheer fabric doing almost nothing to hide how tightly her nipples were peaked — aching, begging for attention after years of neglect.
Denzel’s cock strained painfully against his trousers, the thick outline impossible to ignore now.
“See something you like, gentlemen?” Kiera purred.
She arched her back just enough to make her tits push forward, soft flesh spilling over the cups. Vera would have died of shame. Kiera? Kiera fucking thrived on it.
The inspector swallowed hard, eyes darting between her cleavage and the flushed, hungry face of the man opposite her.
“Ma’am . . . the ticket . . . ”
“Oh, it’s here,” she insisted, slipping two fingers between her breasts to fish out the paper slip that had been nestled against her skin. When she handed it over, her fingers brushed his deliberately. The poor man nearly dropped his hole-puncher.
Denzel watched the entire exchange like a man starving. The second the compartment door slid shut behind the inspector, he was on his knees between her thighs.
“Fuck, Kiera,” he growled.
His big hands slid up her stockings, shoving her fitted skirt higher until the red lace of her panties was fully exposed. He pressed his face forward, inhaling her scent like it was oxygen. She threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged, not gently.
“You’ve been hard since I told you to move. Don’t pretend you don’t want to taste what you’ve done to me.”
Denzel groaned and dragged his tongue along the soaked fabric, pressing himself firm and flat right over her swollen clit. Kiera’s head fell back against the seat with a throaty moan, one heel hooking over his shoulder as the train’s rhythm rocked her against his eager mouth.
Years of stale, dutiful sex with her ex had left her aching for this. She ground against his tongue, soaking his face, her free hand squeezing one heavy breast and pinching her nipple through the red lace.
“Look at you,” she breathed, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Is this what you were fantasizing about when I caught you staring at my seat?”
Denzel pulled her panties aside and plunged his tongue inside her. Kiera cried out as pleasure shot through her core. The countryside blurred past the window while she fucked his face in perfect time with the clack of the tracks.
It’s a one-way ticket on this train and as we rattle on, it’s time for Scarlett (Smutty) Simmons to grab the lever and take control!
Kiera’s hips bucked wildly against Denzel’s mouth, the train’s relentless clatter masking her gasps.
His tongue swirled deep— thick and relentless— lapping at her drenched folds while two fingers curled inside her like he was searching for her secrets. He stroked that perfect spot that made her thighs tremble. She tasted like sin and freedom. Musky, sweet, addictive. He sucked her clit between his lips, humming. Hungry in a way Vera wasn’t used to, and Kiera relished in.
And she shattered.
‘Oh god— yes!’ Kiera cried, her voice breaking into a husky moan. Her fingers tightened in his hair, holding him there as waves of pleasure crashed through her neglected body. Vera couldn’t remember the last time— if ever— she’d come like this, letting go so completely. But Kiera flooded his face, soaking his chin and dampening the plush first-class seat beneath her.
Denzel pulled back only long enough to yank the scarlet silk and lace down her legs, stuffing them into his pocket like a trophy. His cock throbbed painfully against the zipper that held him back from her. The thick, veined outline begging for release. He stood, towering over her, and freed himself in one rough motion. The heavy length sprang out, flushed dark and glistening obscenely at the tip.
Kiera’s eyes widened— greedy and delighted. ‘You’re fucking big,’ she blurted, reaching out to wrap an undeniably timid hand around his girth. She stroked him firmly, thumb circling the slick head. Denzel hissed through his teeth.
‘I think—’ Vera hesitated. Luckily for both of them, Kiera knew what she wanted. ‘I think you need to be inside me as soon as possible.’
He didn’t hesitate. He gripped her hips and pulled her to the edge of the seat. Once she was balanced, Denzel thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, devastating stroke. The train swayed, driving him deeper still. She clenched around him, hot and tight, drawing a window shaking groan from deep in his chest.
Like an action hero running after a moving train and leaping on, new smutster Karen Earl gets on board at the last second and springs into action!
Denzel’s head was thrown back as electricity surged around his thighs up into his spine. He pressed deeper, moving his manhood from side to side, his hips rolling like an intimate tango and luscious body movement music playing between two strangers’ thighs.
He marvelled at the complexity of the muscle contractions rippling inside Kiera’s creamy velvet tunnel.
Kiera’s face told the story of sweet release she has longed for, passions deep stretching as Denzel’s ample manhood ploughed those yearning insides. All those years of kegel exercises was paying off most deliciously.
Denzel and Kiera on their own rhythmic ride together synchronised, eyes locked as they rode each other’s fantasies.
It is my great honour to bring Vera to the end - or the beginning - of her journey, following such illustrious authors.
Kiera turned, gasping as she felt Denzel’s cock slipping out of her, but she needed to do this. She pushed him back into his seat, then climbed on.
Poor Denzel.
He stood no chance against Kiera’s decades of being hidden, first under Vera, and then Vera’s ex-husband.
She rode him, backed by the rocking motion of the train as it rattled on towards their destination, tons of moving steel powering years of resentment, and before more than ten miles had passed, he could feel her clenching around him again, leaning in to bury her face in the hollow of his neck as she continued grinding against him even as she came, silently, if a little breathily.
Her orgasm sent him over the edge, and he held her tight in his arms as he tried, for the sake of not attracting any more attention from the ticket inspector or their fellow passengers, to hold his volume to a minimum.
When they finished and rearranged themselves to suit the demands of public decency, she sat next to him, staring out the window while he stared at her, unsure of the appropriate thing to say at such a moment.
She thought about his offer, to stay at the Arnos Manor. She thought about decades of being with one man.
When the train pulls into its next stop, she rises, kisses him on the cheek, picks her bag up, and disembarks, leaving both him and the ticket inspector open mouthed, watching her stride towards the platform exit, a swagger in her hips present, if a little hesitant.
Vera doesn’t look back, Denzel already a distant if pleasant memory as his train pulls away.
Time to meet Kiera.
*****
Was it good for you, too?
To my co-conspirators, thank you so much for your patience and your enthusiasm. It has been so much fun playing conductor, and thank you for coming along on this ride with me.
I’d be delighted to take feedback for when I run one of these again, and if anyone wants to run their own, please feel free - I don’t own the format, and I would be glad to offer any help or guidance you might need from me, and even take part if you’ll have me.
Many thanks, Silken Mouli, your segue edits are perfect. I'm delighted that it flows so well. BTW, the train's routing is definitely from an Alternative England. 8-)
Looking forward to Karen Earl's contribution!