Part 1 — Dislocation

“Ladies and gentlemen an attachment is about to be made. Please stand clear of the closing doors.”

It had been an unusual train journey from start to finish. The guard had smiled at Sally in a friendly way as she had boarded the train but there had been something odd about his eyes which had made it difficult for her to look away. It had been the same when he had checked her ticket. It could not have lasted more than a second but it somehow seemed as if a long time had passed between her looking up at him, being caught by his strange eyes just as she handed him her ticket, and him handing the ticket back.

Sally settled back into her seat, putting her ticket away in her handbag, and looked around her. There seemed nothing amiss, nothing out of the ordi­nary; there was no indication that anyone else felt like she did—that some­thing odd had happened. But there was something, she felt it quite distinctly, something had happened when the ticket had been checked. But nothing could have happened—there was no time for anything to have happened. She had looked up as the guard had approached, had offered her ticket, he had taken it, she had noticed his peculiar eyes; not that she could quite think what was odd about them—given, after all, there had been just the two—he had punched a hole in the ticket, a little crescent, and given it back to her with a smile. Yet de­spite the un-remarkableness of the exchange Sally felt odd.

It was only when she decided to get her magazine out of her bag that she noticed—noticed by the feel of her blouse against her skin that she was not wearing a bra. Sally looked down at herself for confirmation, a hand to her breast but no, she was not wearing a bra at all. She frowned; she distinctly re­membered putting one on that morning—the new one she had bought last week from M&S. Yes, she had put it on, had had to adjust it; had admired its pretty shape in the mirror; yes, she was sure of it… but it most definitely was not there now. Sally was puzzled. How could she have forgotten to put on her bra, it was not something you forgot — any more than you forgot your panties (she was re-assured to check that she was indeed wearing those)? She was sure she had not forgotten. It didn’t matter really, no one was going to notice providing she didn’t stick her chest out, and it wasn’t as if her nipples were standing. She could buy a new one on the way into work; put it on in the ‘Ladies’. It wasn’t a problem.

Sally opened her magazine, ‘How to dump your boyfriend,’ was the first thing that caught her eye. How appropriate, she thought, should she? She pic­tured Jerry. He was OK and it had been fun but, but it wasn’t going to last. The feeling had been growing on her for days. Jerry was OK and fun but that was about it and ‘OK’ wasn’t something to build ‘forever’ or even a long term rela­tionship upon. The summer holiday had been super though, yes fun, and she had really enjoyed that. Sally thought back to the week in the sun. Jerry hadn’t told her where they were going, she’d thought it would be a hotel in Spain or Portugal, which would have been good, but he’d surprised her with a Greek is­land. It had been a long drive from the airport, on the wrong side of the road, but he’d done that and when they arrived it was not an hotel but their own small little villa. It was really sweet with its white-washed walls, Hibiscus and Bougainvillea growing in profusion and its view of the Aegean. It had its own swimming pool—all to themselves—and it was private, very private—not over­looked at all. And that was why when, almost immediately, Jerry suggested a swim and she’d said she’d find her costume, he’d asked “why?” So, feeling a little odd, she’d just dropped her clothes on the ground and stepped out hand in hand with Jerry into the sunlight completely naked. She’d looked to right and left but there was no one to see, no way for anyone to see—it really was pri­vate. And the feel of the hot sun on her skin after the rain in England- deli­cious!

“It’s lovely,” she’d said and kissed him.

She had the photos. Jerry had been snapping left, right and centre through­out the holiday. It was a good record and she’d been able to show her Mum nearly all the photos and given her a good impression of the holiday and how beautiful the island and its beaches had been. The photos she didn’t show hadn’t been rude ones. Jerry had wanted to but she hadn’t acquiesced to that: though certainly a few had shown them without clothes on. Yes, ‘them,’ the self timer and little tripod had let Jerry take shots of them together. Sally par­ticularly liked the one of the two of them standing hand in hand, naked, by the pool as it reminded her of the anticipation of that first swim, just standing hand in hand looking out at their pool—yes, their own swimming pool for a whole week with the inviting blue water, the sun loungers and table and chairs with the cream parasol just sitting there waiting. It had all been just perfect. And it had been a perfect week under an unbroken blue sky, eating, drinking, exploring, swimming and… well, yes, she smiled at the recollection, it had in­deed been ‘sun, sand and sex.’

The sex had been good. The photo of the two of them standing naked was an indication that it was going to be. Jerry was a good looking bloke—there was no question of that and her friends said so. There was no unnecessary fat on him, his was a strong chest, little bottom, neat curly hair and he stood six foot two. She smiled to herself again, yes and then there was his cock. Well that was all right too! It didn’t show in that picture, well it showed but it was just there, just hanging there as it did, all surrounded by black curly hair but, whilst the photo reminded her of that first swim, it hadn’t been like that on that first day standing looking at the pool before they’d got into the water. It had been up, big and hard and it had made her laugh.

“What’s that for?” she’d said and slapped him on the rump making the erection bounce.

In the train carriage Sally shrugged to herself. Perhaps she should have let Jerry take some rude photos. She would actually rather like to have had one of Jerry standing erect beside her, to remind her of the biggest cock she’d seen—and ridden! Oh she’d miss the sex but that was hardly what a relationship is about. Yes, it had been fun but she was going to have to end it. She was edging to a decision. But when? Not tonight certainly; they were going out with some of his friends and then she was staying in his flat for the weekend. That meant quite a bit of sex and riding that big cock. She grinned in anticipation. A week­end of passionate sex and then on Sunday night just as she was leaving, tell him? Well, that hardly stacked up. She’d have to think a bit more about how to do this. How to hint it was over? It wasn’t that she did not like Jerry, she did and would want to keep him as a friend, if she could, but, but it was not a rela­tionship with a future. Well, a long term future—so should it still have a short term future? Sally was cross with herself, she was moving away from a deci­sion, becoming indecisive. But, of course, the sex would be good…

It had been good that first time by the pool. Despite her saying, “What’s that for?” She’d not been unmoved by the situation. They had walked down the steps into the pool hand in hand, gone into the surprisingly warm water and swam. Sally had not swum naked before, had not swum without a bathing costume or bikini and was surprised how different it felt not having even the thin material of a swimsuit on. It felt different between her legs as her thighs alternately opened and closed in the rhythm of breaststroke and it felt differ­ent on her breasts as they moved in the water, unrestrained. She had liked the feeling straightway and she’d liked seeing Jerry’s body moving through the water un-obscured.

They had swum around, Sally had got up on the lilo and been tipped off by Jerry, gone underwater, got a nose full of water and her hair all wet but she’d come up laughing to find Jerry now lying on the lilo, his cock lolling across his hair. She’d tried to push him off but he’d held on, laughing at her ef­forts. And then she’d started sucking him, slipping his soft cock into her mouth. That had quietened him and he’d lain there docile as anything as his cock had grown big in her mouth. Of course, he had then been completely un­prepared for her lunge and had fallen right off the lilo and underwater. Sally had been away and was sitting on the pool edge before he’d surfaced, laugh­ing.

“Come and kiss me,” she’d said to him. And he had, right there on her lips, right on the lips between her legs as she’d sat on the pool side. It had been lovely sitting there, legs over his shoulders, his face buried deep in her sex, his tongue moving with purpose, looking up at the so blue sky and simply letting Jerry bring her off—and he had done, she’d shuddered as she stared at the blue, blue sky, revelling in that lovely tingling orgasm feeling and the pleasure of holiday anticipation.

“Come on big boy,” she could remember saying, “my turn.” She’d slipped off the pool edge and swum out as Jerry had pulled himself out of the water. She had swum back towards him, admiring that big cock of his standing up ready; she’d cupped his balls and said, “What do you want me to do?” Sally had known what he’d say; it was his expression, what he liked to say.

“Drink me.”

And she had.

Sally liked the feel of the head in her mouth, all silky smooth. She could run her tongue happily around it. She was not so sure when Jerry tried to push too much into her mouth—he really was rather big but the head was nice to suck on and suck she did. Sally soon had him close to coming, she could tell be­cause he always started a bucking motion which she didn’t really like because it often nearly choked her.

“If you’re going to do that I’m going for a swim.” And she had, leaving him on the pool side all erect and frustrated—but she came back. Rather than putting his penis back in her mouth she licked it like an ice cream cone, right to the top.

Sally bit her lip and looked up in the train carriage, pausing in her reminis­cence. The guard had come back into the carriage and was walking through. It was lucky he couldn’t read her thoughts or know what she’d said next to Jerry. It was so embarrassing what lovers sometimes said to each other, private things; it had been “drinkies time.” She winced—baby talk when she was blow­ing him? But it had set him off. Sally hadn’t been expecting it and she was still sliding her tongue up the long shaft and had just touched the smooth head when (out of focus because she was so close) she saw the first shot rush past and felt it landing on her forehead and hair. She had the head in her mouth in an instant and a hand on his balls as she flicked her tongue around the little hole whilst the semen streamed out. Typical Jerry, there was always a lot!

She had opened her mouth to show Jerry the semen, just as in that ridicu­lous movie he’d got her to watch, and she’d winked before swallowing the salty ‘drink.’ She recalled thinking at that moment that the holiday was going to be simply a perfect one and, looking back as Sally was now doing, it certain­ly had been.

The guard walked past and Sally realised she was smiling — not at him but at her recollection.

“Morning Miss,” he said catching her smile and eye.

And it was as if a frame or two of a film was missing as her image of him seemed to jump fractionally sideways. It was very odd and stopped Sally’s day­dream of her holiday. She glanced down at the magazine on her lap—only it wasn’t there but on the seat beside her, opened at a different page. How pecu­liar, she did not remember putting it down and, and another thing, her trousers did not feel right as if, as if she was not wearing panties: but she was, she had only checked minutes before when she had realised she had no bra. Sally looked slowly around her; the people on the seats near her were en­grossed in their newspapers or books, so she slipped a hand into the waist­band of her trousers—to feel short curly hair but no cotton panties. She was sure she had felt them only minutes before; she was sure of it, but they weren’t there now; they could hardly have been removed whilst she sat there, so they could not have been on at all; she must have been mistaken and forgotten to put them on that morning; how very, very strange and not something she could imagine herself forgetting at all. But like the bra it did not matter as she could buy some more at M&S—perhaps they still had that shell pink colour she liked.

It was not a short train journey and they still had to pick up another train before heading on to London and it was not long before Sally’s thoughts drift­ed back to the holiday. They had gone to a little taverna for dinner which had been delightful—even the Retsina had been just about drinkable. That had been Jerry’s choice—he said he really had a taste for it—but it was certainly not her choice later in the holiday! The Calamari, Souvlaki and Greek salad with a chunk of Feta had been good though, again, she was not so sure about the small cup of Greek coffee tasting of cardboard.

Back at the villa they had lain on the double bed without a stitch on or even a sheet, trying to stay cool with just an electric fan and no air condition­ing. Lying naked and rather sweaty next to Jerry it had not been surprising that her thoughts had turned to sex—she could feel herself getting nicely wet. She’d reached out towards Jerry in the dark towards his groin and found his mind was working in the same direction — his cock was like a rock. She’d not worried about much foreplay, a few tugs and she was astride him pointing his big cock straight up with her hand and letting herself down on it. She smiled at the recollection. The heat of the night, the two of them slippery with sweat in the pitch dark and with the whirr of the fan for company. She had let herself down slowly, filling herself with Jerry’s cock until there was nothing left to go in.

“Comfortable?” she’d said, and his hands had come to her breasts, squeezing and playing. She’d lent forward, kissed him and begun to ride.

They’d needed to shower again after, it made them cool for a moment again, and satiated with sex she’d slept through ’til the morning

She had awoken a little bleary and gone to the bathroom for a pee. Com­ing back Sally remembered she’d stood and looked at Jerry still fast asleep but with a morning erection. She recalled wondering what he was dreaming about and had stood there playing with herself looking at his cock, which occasional­ly twitched suggesting the dream was a good one! Coming back to herself on the train she bit her lip in amusement remembering that she’d suddenly been worried he would have a ‘wet dream’ and all that hardness would disappear in a fountain of semen. The image of Jerry’s cock spurting without a hand or any­thing touching it was erotic and her fingers had moved faster, she recalled, but she certainly hadn’t wanted to waste the erection and had thought the sooner it was in her the better. It had been soon. She was on the bed, straddling and in­serting, just as the night before, in a trice.

Jerry had woken only to complain he desperately needed to pee but Sally had not let him get up and had ridden him to her orgasm as he lay rather unre­sponsive under her watching as she pulled her nipples by herself, using him.

He’d limped to the bathroom as soon as she got off and she heard the splash in the pan go on and on—she’d felt a bit guilty. He really had been bursting. Even so, she’d laughed at him, she remembered, as he came back to the bed with his penis still very erect, very wet from her and bobbing about. He’d put her over his knee and smacked her like a little girl before planting her back on the bed on all fours and taken her doggy style. She’d reached under and played with his balls. He had not been long in coming!

Sally looked up again with a smile on her face at the recollection to see the man opposite her looking at her. He looked away. Yes, there had been a lot of sex that holiday.

Picking up her magazine again she’d settled down to read. Outside the window the countryside crawled by. She frowned and wondered why the train always, well nearly always, went so slowly at this point in its journey. Surely the signalmen knew it was coming—it did, after all, do the journey every day.

There was a noise behind her and the guard walked past and once again she had that feeling of disconnection and her view of the carriage seemed to jump.

Yes, she had been thinking about sex but it had not got her particularly ‘ex­cited’, it was just pleasurable reminiscing, not really causing her to get wet, yet all of a sudden she felt ‘sopping.’ Sally moved her thighs, yes, undoubtedly she was as wet as she’d ever been and no it wasn’t wee, she’d have felt herself going and she hadn’t wanted to anyway, plus it felt different. How could she suddenly be all wet and ready for intercourse; it didn’t make any sense; she didn’t just become wet; she had to be aroused and feel the moisture slowly coming and her lips engorge but, as far as she could tell, they weren’t; it was if she was ready for sex physically but not in her mind; how very odd. She clamped her legs shut hoping the wetness wouldn’t seep through her trousers — why hadn’t she got panties on?

The journey was proving something of a trial. First she had discovered she had no bra, then no panties and now all this sopping wetness between her thighs. She wondered if she should go to the train lavatory and take a look. She must have looked a bit worried, or flushed or something because the guard—why was he moving up and down the train so much—stopped and said,

“Are you feeling all right, Miss?”

She’d mumbled something in reply, “Sort of.”

And he’d smiled and nodded, whilst looking at her. Again that feeling of dislocation — was she sickening for something but now she felt something dif­ferent. Her nipples were standing and feeling, feeling like they did when Jerry (or one of her earlier boyfriends) had been a little enthusiastic in his sucking and… and most peculiarly her clit felt the same way, as if it too had recently been vigorously manipulated and she was still feeling as wet as before. But she was aroused now—how had that happened — and there was a jumble of words in her mind—and the word ‘attachment’ kept coming into her mind.

The train guard was still there, “You’re looking a little flushed?”

“No, no, I’m OK really.” But she wasn’t, certainly not how she normally felt on her morning commute into London.

The train slowed and came into a station. The doors opened and stayed open. Sally knew; knew from regular travel that they had to wait for the other train to join them and it was late—again.

Sally shook her head to clear it. She didn’t feel right and wondered if standing would do her good. Perhaps she should cross the platform and go home? Getting up, she moved over to the open train doors and stood looking out at the platform. A few more people got on.

Sally heard the announcement. The announcement that the other train had arrived and was about to be coupled:

“Ladies and gentlemen an attachment is about to be made. Please stand clear of the closing doors.”

As the second train was joined to the first there was a jolt as the one set of carriages pushed the other set. Sally felt the jolt through her body but it was as if a cock had pushed hard right into her. She gasped and came in a stun­ning, jolting orgasm leaving her clutching the carriage partition and half falling to her knees. The woman next to her was looking startled as if she had seen a ghost or something very surprising.

“You… the guard…” she’d said and then stopped and looked away, “…nothing, I…”

September 2018
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