Page 6 of Torn
“I need to use the bathroom,” I whispered, leaning toward him.
“Of course you do. From the looks of things, I imagine that in a few minutes time, the bathroom won’t be the only thing getting ‘used.’”
I grinned and stepped into the aisle. “Fingers crossed.”
Then I hurried away to follow. Luckily, Mr. Tight Bod wasn’t yet out of view. I stayed a few steps behind as he navigated the train’s narrow passageway. I prayed for three things—that he wasn’t heading for the dining car, that he was indeed bound for the men’s room, and that the men’s room would be empty, with the bonus of a secure lock. I had a narrow passageway of my own I hoped he’d soon be navigating!
I breathed a sigh of relief as I spied the men’s room door open just a tad, indicating it wasn’t occupied. I breathed a sigh of lust when he, after glancing pointedly back at me, slipped inside. I listened for the sound of a latch being thrown and heard nothing.
Good.
I glanced around and waited for a nun to pass by. She smelled of malt vinegar, My Sin perfume, and judgment. I watched her broad black-and-white expanse until it disappeared into the dining car. Then I took one more look around, thrilled to see not a single soul in the corridor.
I crossed myself and ducked inside.
He waited, slouched against the tiny sink. He’d already undone the top two buttons on his fly. I sidled up to him, our eyes communicating so much more than our mouths ever could. My own bald hunger reflected back to me out of those incredible umber eyes.
I started to open my mouth to ask his name, at the very least, but as soon as I parted my lips, his mouth was on mine with almost feral need. He thrust his tongue inside, and I sucked on it. His face appeared smooth but was delightfully sandpaper-y against my skin. I was glad I hadn’t bothered shaving since a day or two before we left so he’d have the same sensation.
We clutched each other close, grinding our crotches together—making me afraid I’d come in my pants. The moment, of necessity, was all about urgency, all about blind, demanding hunger. This wasn’t an opportunity to take one’s time, not when a conductor might come knocking at the door at any moment.
He stopped kissing me abruptly and whirled me around, reaching from behind to undo my fly and yank my shorts down around my ankles.Oh God, is he gonna fuck me right here?As much as I wanted it, I wasn’t at all sure this was the right time or place, exciting as the idea was. Common sense questions intruded:
Does he have a condom?
Am I clean enough down there?
Will such vigorous activity attract the unwanted attention of passersby?
People walked to and fro outside the door. As I mentioned, this was a pretty full train.
But then he dropped to his knees, pressed his face close, and buried the tongue that had been in my mouth in my ass. I rose up on my toes, the warm sensation almost like an electric shock, and then I eased back down into it.
I was in heaven, seventh heaven. I leaned forward to give him easier access. I reached back and spread my cheeks for his talented tongue, swallowing the moan that ached to emerge. At least for now, I could manage to keep quiet. But if he kept those wonderful ministrations up—and let me tell you, the guy was an absolute maestro with his tongue—I didn’t know that I could staymum—and we were not talking the Queen Mother there! A huge moan was lodged in the back of my throat, held in place by clenched teeth. It was positively quivering for release.
In a daze of lust, I wondered if this would go anywhere else. Perhaps he would expect the same from me? Perhaps he’d replace that tongue with his cock? And would I be able to say no to that? My heart rate slowed a little as I realizedthisis what he wanted—so who was I to stop him? He nuzzled his face deeper into my ass, licking and munching away like a starving man. He gripped my hips to pull me even closer, which wasn’t even possible.
My dick stood at attention, jerking and oozing precome.
It wouldn’t be long.
I turned my head to whisper over my shoulder. “I’m close, buddy. Is that what you want?”
He made this kind of drawn-outuuughsound that I took as a yes. His tongue ramped up its speed and intensity, and reality disappeared around me. I was no longer on a train in England, heading toward the seaside. I was in paradise.
I shot, the white jets of come spurting up and out of me like Old Faithful. They hit the metal wall and ran down.
He turned me, feverish, so he could lap up what was still coming out.
“Leche,” he whispered. “Mmm….”
Ah, so he’s a Spanish speaker, which I thought was an odd thought to have at that moment.
Also at that moment, someone jostled the door. Then banged on it once, twice, three times. A male voice, with a bit of what I heard as a Cockney dialect, cried out, “Come on, then. You’ve been in there ten fucking minutes. There are other people on the train, you know.”
I looked down at—oh God, I didn’t even know his name—and he looked back up, his tongue still at the head of my cock. A line of come dribbled down his cheek. I reached to scoop it up and feed it to him.
Only then did I give him a look of panic.
