Night Journey

Night train to the Hill Station

I settled myself in first class compartment and thought I was to be alone, but then suddenly as the train began to move, the door was flung open suddenly, and a youngish bespectacled man jumped in.

It was the Padre, Father Fury, the Anglican priest. I had seen him on the platform surrounded by a group of parishioners. His face was red, and he was puffing.

I helped me into the carriage.

Thank you Major Cockburn, I am much obliged. I was detained there on the platform by the Chair of the Women’s Hall Committee who had important news for me. Or so she said, he smiled gently.

I saw now that there were two cases already in the rack above my head.

We knew one another well enough to know our names, but only a little and I had barely paid much attention to him, not being an Anglican churchgoer myself. Few of the men were churchgoers either, so I had seen him at funerals mostly, occasionally at a wedding or hurried christening.

He now sat back opposite me and wiped his sweaty brow and then his spectacles. For the first time I saw his face without the lenses and was surprised to register that he was in fact a good-looking man, probably younger than me.

The journey overnight was a long one and as he ruefully commented, we were together for the duration. He looked around at the empty seats, and I knew that, like me, he was hoping the compartment would not fill up.

The heat was considerable still and as we pulled out of the station and the rails began to climb, the inevitable rain came on, and the whole view disappeared in a mass of mist as if curtains had been drawn on the landscape.

We chatted amiably enough and learned the reasons for our travel and the length of our stays at the hill station.

I casually asked about his domestic arrangements, although I knew that well enough, and he said he had not been blessed in that area. He was a bachelor.

And so am I, I responded, with a shy smile.

He acknowledged this with a nod.

Do you find life here lonely, Major, he asked, with an open face.

Before I could reply, he added

But of course you have the men, Major.

I had to stop a grin from splitting my face, and when I recovered, answered soberly

Oh yes, Padre Fury, I have the men.

The compartment, with its windows flung open, was getting cooler, which was one of the principal reasons for taking the night express, rather than the baking heat of the day.

The train made stops on the climb up to the hills and on the platforms there was sufficient time to buy food from the stalls. Travellers often ordered this ahead. It was considered quite a treat.

At Kitchener Falls therefore we both collected our tiffin from one of the best stalls on the platform. I noticed the Padre had ordered a great quantity of fruit and a few bottles of minerals, but I had been given a small crate which contained several bottles of Belgian beer and a bottle of local whisky. I had no intention of sleeping that night, and with the spectacular landscape obscure by the darkness, I was very happy to drink. I wondered if the Padre would mind my entertainment or indeed, would he take my hospitality if it was offered?

It was a long night. I will skip most of the travel details and jump to the Major events of interest to an audience of discerning gentlemen.

Some hours into the journey the dawn came up as we approached the villages which fringed the higher hills as we headed up to the peaks where the hill station nestled.

I noted the dawn as I threw my head back and saw the scarlet clouds over the distant mountains. At that moment the good Padre was shooting up my arse, for the second or third time I cannot recall, and I bet he was not counting either.

I was straddling him. My trousers were at my ankles, his were down to his knees and he was fucking me really rather hard as if his life depended on it, which perhaps it did.

Both our shirts were hanging off and we were displaying a great deal of hairy sweaty flesh. He was a veritable Viking in looks, especially without his spectacles, and was covered in rough blond fur from his chin to his groin and thighs.

How on earth you the male reader will wonder did the Padre and the Major get to fuck?

This is how it transpired.

After we had returned to our compartment with our tiffin at Kitchener Falls, we both set to it with some appetite. We shared the dishes as our food orders were different – he did not have the delightful hot pickles which I favoured, and his curries seemed to be bland recipes, smacking of the nursery.

My bowls were filled with aromatic chili-spiked stews.

I reached out towards him with a spoonful.

Here Father, try this, I ventured, it will warm your cockles.

His tongue came out as I held the spoon, and he swallowed, looked startled, then smiled.

Indeed Major, you are correct, that is in indeed a most colourful and savoury flavour.

Then his large pink tongue appeared and licked the red juice on the spoon I still held.

He nodded.

Thank you Major, you have introduced me to a new experience.

Perhaps, I countered, I could introduce you to more – and I held out one of my bottles of beer.

They have been keeping them on ice for us. Here Padre – please take one.

(Afterwards no doubt the Padre blamed the beer for what transpired, never mind the hot peppers)

He paused for a second, then smiled shyly, and took the bottle.

Just the one, Major, then. Just the one, to show willing.

If I had been counting the beer as well as the ejaculating I would know how many he knocked back. Four bottles perhaps, and half a bottle of what passed for Scotch.

He was an eager eater, tearing into his red curry, so eager that it dripped from his spoon and the scarlet and orange juices lodged in his blond beard.

I reached over with my handkerchief and wiped the stain. He let me do it.

Oh Major, you have stained your handkerchief. I fear that will never come out, It will be quite spoiled.

I shrugged.

Better on my handkerchief than on your dog collar or your vest Padre.

He smiled. How kind and attentive you are Major.

I noticed his bottle was well down and suggested he knock that one back and I would replace it.

The heat indeed was prodigious, and I asked if I might undo my collar.

He readily agreed and encouraged me to do so.

Major, make yourself comfortable. Unbutton your shirt if you need to. Do not stand on formality. I will not be shocked. It is night-time after all, we should be in bed by now.

Shall I drop my trousers too, then, for I am mighty hot and sweaty down that way.

I paused. He paused and looked at me.

I laughed loud.

I jest Padre, never fear, I will remain decent.

That of course turned out to be quite inaccurate. I knocked another bottle cap off my beer and with my eyes fixed on the Padre’s rather fine blue eyes, I took a deep draught.

He laughed too, perhaps a little too loudly.

I got up to use the lavatory at the end of the corridor, which was rudimentary but efficient. If one was tall enough one could avoid the pan, lower the window and piss into the mountains. God help children and midgets.

I felt the chill hair on my cock. It was a long long piss. On the way back I met the steward, an Indian, and gave him a tip of some considerable weight, asking him to leave us alone in the compartment. There was another stop coming up and we were lucky to be alone in our seats up to that time.

The steward nodded his head and when I was back in my seat opposite the Padre, he reappeared, stuck a reserved sticker on the glass, pulled down the blinds, and smiled shyly at me.

I returned his smile with some authority as befitted  Major in the army of the Empire.

The train is quiet, commented the Padre. I had heard it got very busy before we hit the hills.

I nodded thoughtfully.

Yes, I rather thought it would have been packed with sweaty Germans, even Belgians. And who wants to share with them? Forgive me Padre.

He shook his head, good naturedly.

I cannot condone that comment Major – but all the same there is perhaps some truth in what you say.

A smile played around his lips, which were I noted, rather pink.

When we came to our next stop the platform seemed crowded – and it was with bulky German traders.

The Padre made a face and then caught me watching and burst out laughing too.

There was Teutonic noise in the corridor outside our compartment, but still we were left alone. After that stop the railway climbed high quite rapidly and had to take on water half way up, in a great chasm.

There was plenty of time to drink beer and now whisky on this part of the journey. Our conversation had become personal. The Padre clearly acquired much gossip as part of his duties and told me one or two amusing tales, some of which was about people I knew or at least recognised in the society of the place.

Then once he let slip about that particular house on the outskirts of town where Miss Munday was employed.

How on earth did a Padre know about a brothel?

I was drunk enough not to make any comment and he was drunk enough apparently not to care that he had mentioned it.

When we got to the lofty peak where the train took on the water we decided to leave the compartment, there was plenty of time and the train would not leave without us, and we took a stroll in the steamy dark night air.

The Padre made his apologies and said he had to answer a call of nature. He strolled to the end of the platform where the bush started and I could hear the drumming of his considerable urinating on some shiny leafed shrub.

With no more ado I joined him there.

Padre, do you mind, I asked.

Be my guest Major, he replied, and I saw his piss flow ever more strongly into the leaves.

I unbuckled and whipped out my own equipment, which in truth was quite solid from all that beer and the occasional lustful thought of the Padre.

For a while we seemed to be in competition with our pissing, sending arcs up and into the greenery. He stopped before me but stayed there and while I made a show of tucking away my willie I caught him looking. As you know I had nothing to be ashamed of in the downstairs department. I paused and let him see the long thick thing while I shook some drops out of the knob. I caught a glance of his too, long and white and with a thick furry covering it seemed to me in the poor light.

Gents! Gents! Came some shouted voices.

Yes indeed, said the Padre, we are caught in the Gents, the Major and I, are n’t we, and chuckled

There were boys on the platform selling some sort of local drink which they called whisky – made they said from pineapple. The Padre said he would try it and I followed his lead after we had supervised the cleaning of the glass, which we shared.

I will take the risk with your diseases Padre, I jested.

And I yours Major, which I fear is more likely, he countered.

We agreed it did not taste of pineapple but whatever it tasted of it was certainly strong and made us both wince once the initial sweet taste was gone. All the same we took a second nip and I purchased the not quite clean flask on offer for not quite the asking price.

Gents will have good night together, saluted the boy.

The Padre accepted a smoke as we strolled up and down the platform and regretted the view was lost at that hour.

The Padre took a deep draw of the cigar and I realised he was an experienced smoker. No coughing amateur.

And then out of nowhere he remarked

They say, don’t they Major, that pineapple makes the sperms especially sweet? Is that your experience?

I was a little taken aback. I had heard that too and had a little experience of the facts, but was not sure how to respond. That halfcaste in Rosa Munday’s whorehouse had the sweetest spunk I had ever tasted on my tongue and he believed that was due to his diet of fruit. But he said passion fruit.

I laughed mildly.

Well then Padre, we are assured of being sweet together.

I held up the flask and waved it, and he laughed too.

He was ahead of me as we climbed back aboard. For a second he lost his footing on the step and I reached out to save him, felt his warmth against me. I was in no hurry to let go. I could feel his behind pressing into my groin. No doubt he could feel that I was not exactly limp in that region.

I softly kissed the back of his bristly shaved neck and he made no comment or protest. Perhaps he had not noticed the tickle of my moustaches. I released him as my sudden erection threatened my flies and his buttocks.

When we were back in the compartment and he faced me, he smiled, and yawned.

There’s still a long night ahead Major, he remarked. Shall we turn in soon?

Or shall we simply sit up and drink and see what transpires before the dawn comes up?

I uncorked that flask of pineapple liqueur and held it out to him.

He knocked it back and licked his lips.

I am curious Major. You avoided answering me just now when I spoke of the sweetness of sperms.

I always believe Major that actions speak louder than words. Do you not think so?

His eyes widened.

Major, you do not mean what I am thinking do you?

Padre, that depends rather what you are thinking.

Major, I am not thinking at all.

In that case Padre, who knows what may happen. Fortune favours the bold.

I crossed the small space that separated us. I bent down. I took the Padre in my arms. Our mouths met. His lips opened. My tongue penetrated between his teeth. I felt his tongue in turn respond.

Dear Lord, murmured the Padre, dear Lord forgive me for what I am about to do.

As he murmured those sacred words my hand went down between his legs. There was no escaping it now.

The Padre was, bless me father, very well endowed, and at this particular moment his cook was standing hard between his legs. I could not ignore it, and I did not intend to, instead, with no further add do, I grasped it in my calloused fist.

Major, he murmured, oh Major what are you doing ?

This, Padre, this is exactly what I am doing.

And I bent down between his legs, pulled apart his buttons, reached in to his white underdrawers and pulled out his vigorous and strong erection.

Lord Major oh Major breathed The Padre what is it you are doing?

This Padre, is what I am doing

I bent down into his lap opened my mouth wide and with one swift action swallowed the swollen purple knob atop his hard stiff member.

The Padre shouted out aloud.

Oh Major, Major what are you doing in Christ's name. I was unable to reply as my mouth was so full of his manhood but I would have replied that there was no need whatsoever for blasphemy.

The Padre continued to murmur and mumble and to call out Major oh Major what is it you are doing.

By that type I think it was obvious just what I was doing. I was sucking him and tasting him and licking him and by the sound of the sounds of the noises he was making he was very pleased to have my attention. The evidence was there soon enough.

With one almighty shout from that poor man of God my mouth was full of the Padre's hot hot spunk.

It was unusually thick and I wondered if it had been fermenting in his balls for a long long time, anxious to be released. For all the world it reminded me of a good rice pudding, fresh out of the oven.

I was trying so hard to swallow it that I was unable to decide if it was sweet like pineapple or not but it was certainly boiling hot and jelly like and the quantity that the Padre shot down my throat and filled my mouth and cheeks was absolutely prodigious. I was choking and I continued to choke as he continued to shoot down my throat.

All of this was accompanied by squeals from the Padre, very much at odds from his Viking appearance.

I do believe he had never ejaculated like that in his life. Certainly never in the way he was doing at that very moment, exploding into my mouth. I felt his hands on my head pushing me down so there was no escape from the swallowing. I thought I might expire with the force and the gush of it.

At last it seemed as if the flood was waning. Very slowly the gushing began to stop a little and so it became simply a stream of hot white creamy seed that was coming out of him, merely dribbling out of the juicy slit at the top of his knob.

At last I pulled myself away from his knob head and sat on the compartment floor looking up at the Padre's red but ecstatic face. He was still standing to attention out of his flies but now the monstrous virile member was dripping its steady constant flow. It was still coming out of him and now it was running down the column length of him. And it was making a mess on his good travelling trousers before it hit the wooden floor where it puddled.

I coughed a little like a recovering invalid as his semen ran down to settle in my stomach. Then I wiped my moustaches and beard which I found where thickened and matted with the hot and recent semen of the temporarily exhausted Padre.

From the look of his face he appeared to have reached a personal State of Grace.

I was of course still fucking excited. And I can tell you that my under drawers were strained to the absolute maximum. I had had a vigorous erection for most of the journey of course, but it was not until I had followed him back into the carriage and with the lightest of touches had kissed the back of his neck with the bristles were that I had honestly determined to have the Padre right there and then.

He did not put up a fight.

I pulled down his trousers, then I pulled down his drawers, gingerly easing them over his tender and weeping but strident cock.

Then I stood in front of him, and pulled down my own trousers and drawers in one go, so he would see what he was about to get without any further ado.

Oh no Major, he whimpered, I cannot. I will not able to do that. It is far too big.

I did not believe his protestations or reluctance and said so.

Try, Padre, I replied, try. And to be fair, he was a game Padre, he tried.

I was down his mouth in a second, filling him up, so he chocked and gasped, and made a noise like he was about to expire.

When I had had enough of that I pushed him back down on the moquette seating, spread his hairy thighs wide, and with little or no mercy, save for a couple of palmfuls of good fresh spit to which he willingly contributed, I speared him right and proper with my long thick shaft.

The Padre bellowed, but to his credit, he did not squirm or try to get out of my control, but he took it like an obedient man and servant and took it again and again, till the look on his face was positively angelic. He closed his eyes as I fucked him and his fair lashes trembled on his scarlet cheekbones.

I was so ready for it, so worked up that it did not take me long to pump him properly to the very climax of things, and with some very un-Christian oaths, letting it fly out of me and right up him in the wet dark of his arse. When it had the opportunity to run and drip out of his hole the evidence was messy and considerable. I had clearly had a desperate need to let lose all of that spunk, now fulfilled.

But I was not yet sated, however much I had spunked for the time being.

Give me it Padre, give me it now, I cried.

I straddled him, grasped his blond thighs, and lowered myself down his very wet and very hard cock. Oh the joy for us both. I let the Padre get the hang of it and he took to it like a duck to water, learning early on that he need not lose his load all of a sudden in the first seconds, and that he should hold on for the mutual benefit of us both.

And then he straddled me in turn and took me again, and I returned the favour, and turned him over and took him as the locals called it, monkey style, on his front, kneeling. He held on to the window frame as I fucked him on the sticky floor.

He was letting a final load rocket out of him as I have previously related when the dawn began to come up over the mountains, and if we cared to we could see natives starting their long hard days in the villages dotted along the railway tracks.

We pulled ourselves apart reluctantly, a mass of matted rough hair and drying seed, and began to rectify the undressing and the covering of the bare skin.

Have I mentioned that he was a true Viking all over,  a very hirsute blond man, and that his cock stood up out of a mass of it. I had not seen him flaccid, but had to assume that his member was quite lost in the thicket when in an unaroused state. I had I was glad to say only seen him in an aroused state.

As he buttoned up his shirt I noticed how his chest and stomach hair was covered in the load I had most recently spent all over him. Later I noticed the spunk caught in his beard and reached over to flick it away.

His dog collar, having been discarded early in the business, was, I am glad to say, spotless.

Padre, may I suggest a bath at the mission house?

When we arrived at the station there was a welcoming party waiting for him, orphans with a banner, and some hard faced spinsters.

Ah me, said the Padre, here is my company for the holidays. It is unlikely I think that any of those ladies will be familiar with the smell or the sight of sperms. I think I may escape censure till I get to my bath.

How I wish Padre I could share that bath with you.

Perhaps there is a way, he said. Surely you will be free to dine, though I suspect the mission house may hold few charms for you.

The Club then perhaps might be more convenient – and accommodating?

Indeed. And will I see you at church. I am to preach a sermon tomorrow , it is a great honour.

I fear I would be unable to concentrate and be thinking only have more mortal subjects, though it is my belief that the divine can be found in the cock you have hidden in your vestments. It certainly brought me to ecstasy so many times quite recently.

Hush Major, I must compose myself. Do not tempt me.

Get thee behind me is it then, Padre? I’d get behind you this very minute, and not stop either …

Oh how delightful, he said, but that was when the orphans handed over a little posy of flowers as he stepped on to the platform.

See you in church Major, he said with a smile, before he gave himself to the pack of well-wishers.

I did indeed see him in church on Sunday, my first visit to a religious house for pleasure shall we say for some considerable time.

I was well bathed and fragrant, my uniform steamed and pressed, my undergarments and socks laundered. I was in fact the very model of a modern Major on leave in the mountains.

I also had a very healthy erection in my drawers which should no sign of diminishing even as the hymns and the readings droned on – the Padre himself looked quite golden in his pulpit in the Sunday morning light. I could see his blue eyes across the pews. He looked as if butter would not melt in his mouth, far less my spunk be swallowed.

I had been invited to luncheon at the mission house, a long affair punctuated with several courses and more readings. One or two of the local boys were muscular and attractive, but I was seated far from the Padre, and it all seemed interminable. I had no idea how our next congress was to be achieved.

At last as the heat rose outside and in the meal came to its conclusion with another prayer.

I heard the Padre announce he would retire to his rooms for a siesta and that he had an appointment to speak to the Major about a matter of mutual interest which he would discuss on his way.

He lifted his head and nodded at me. We got to his rooms at quite a trot. The sturdy lock and bolt did their duty behind us and we both raced to get our clothes off.

In a second we both stood by the muslin curtains of the narrow bed, quite naked, and proudly aroused. As we clasped one another our hot hairy bodies pressed against one another, our male members squeezed between us. The Padre was dripping already, shiny strings oozing from his knob. In deference to that I let him fuck me first, my thighs spread wide, his eyes close shut as he pounded me. He tried not to shout and thus alarm the servants but very soon his thrusts grew even more urgent and with a whispered curse word he filled me up. I felt his spunk shoot and shoot again.

Then I put him on his front and took him in turn while he bit the pillow and his arse was in the air, the recipient of all my force and my first load.

I pulled out with an effort, letting my fresh spunk flow out after, and we clasped one another tight on top of the covers of the single bed, and kissed a little, till to our shame for wasting precious time together, we both nodded off, and our willies shrank away to nothing.

Much later it must have been I woke with a violent start. There was knocking at the door. As I came to I remembered that the door was indeed locked. No helpful and attentive servant might come in.

Jesus Christ! With that unlikely oath, the Padre jumped up at the same time, stark naked of course, and I was not surprised but also not pleased to see sporting a healthy length of afternoon wood. Quickly he wound a bath towel around his waist and ran to the door.

Yes, he asked, through the barrier, his voice sharper than I was accustomed.

A servant voice answered.

Padre, the christening service is in 20 minutes. I thought you would want reminding sir.

Thanks you Emmanuel. I will be ready shortly. I have been studying.

Yes sir, came the reply, and we could hear the soft bare feet on the corridor.

I lay back on the cot, spread my arms, and yawned. I wiped the sleep from my eyes.

What’s this about a christening I said.

The Padre mentioned the name of the child and who the parents were, adding I should come along.

I will, I replied, but will you christen me first?

I opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out, just as my prick soared to its full height down below.

The Padre dropped his towel and climbed on top of me, his cock sticking into my face.

You mean this sort of christening do you?

Indeed I do – as hot and wet as you can manage Padre.

He began to tug at my cock, which was leaking already, and responded manfully to his fingers.

He worked on himself at a pace, letting the tip of my tongue tickle the knob, and so with little more than ten minutes to the christening, there were two more explosions. The rest and the snooze must have done us good, filling our manly cisterns, for we summoned some considerable reserves of semen, and shot them almost as far as we had when we desperate for congress at the start of the intimate session.

As my stomach was laid over with my mess, he exploded over my face, making a real stew of my beard. Some of the mess made it to my forehead, and he made the sign of the cross there with his forefinger, a proper unholy christening indeed.

I tutted at the sacrilege as I licked the semen off my lips and swallowed it.

Then he jumped off me sending spunk drops flying all over the place and made the best of it with the jug and ewer till his hairiness was well sodden with good clean water and the bay rum disguised the pungent odour of grown healthy men climaxing enthusiastically.

Fifteen minutes later he was at his duties, and I came into the back of the church late but in time to see the pretty squalling baby anointed in the traditional way.

My business in the hills was sorted quite quickly and the Padre and I agreed that we might take a lodge for a day or two together. Neither of us were hunting men, but we could say we were going to hunt. In fact we intended to fuck energetically and I definitely intended to drink as well and to persuade the good Padre to join heartily in that activity too.

At the end of our two days further up in the hills the Padre was limping, he had been fucked so hard, and to be sure tho I was well-broken in that department, I was not much better.

We had told the servants we were involved in a religious retreat which would involve the casting out of devils and therefore they should not be alarmed by strange noises or shouting. Keep away I cautioned them, and leave the meals on the step.

There was a well-built lad with skin like ebony who brought us tea in the mornings. Once I foolishly opened the door with sweat on my forehead and my chest bare and my nipple hairs clotted with the Padre’s drying spunk.

The boy nodded seriously then had the audacity to wink, so perhaps we were fooling nobody. Or perhaps all the gents who came up the mountain locked themselves away to do that sort of business and he often earned a coin or two for his discretion – or the rental of his sexual parts.

One evening after sundown when the good Padre had his full and luscious lips wrapped around my knob, there came a sudden knocking at the door.

Padre, Padre, came an excited voice . There is a telegram for you!

 

Fortunately we had been so carried away by our mutual desires that we were still more or less fully dressed only our shirts had been ripped open exposing our under shirts.

 

The Padre got up from his knees dusted them and wiped his mouth. Then he went to answer the door, looking as respectable as ever. I hastily composed myself and tucked my swollen and expectant member into my flies.

At the door was the young man Samuel who looked after the bungalows at the Hill station. In his hand was the telegram .

The Padre opened it immediately and I saw his face fall as he read the few words. He looked up and smiled at Samuel . Thank you Samuel for running up the Hill with this I will have to leave first thing in the morning can you collect my bags I will have to catch the train back to town.

I saw him reach into his pocket and press a small coin into Samuel's hand. Samuel smiled his handsome grin and nodded goodnight father he said goodnight Major he added and looked over at me and nodded.

Not for the first time I felt that the handsome and muscular Samuel was winking at me, or rather wanted to wink at me.

When Samuel had gone from the door the Padre came back to me , looking somewhat dismayed.  

Well Major, he sighed, I will have to leave at first light tomorrow morning. All we can do I suppose is have one damn good screw to last us for a bit.

And so that is exactly what we did. We had a damn good screw, and not just one, several, and they were all flipping memorable.

Our alarm clock was set well in advance the next morning. In the pitch black of the night I rolled over and fucked the good Padre and then he returned the favour like a good Christian.

I waved him off in his rickshaw, asking him to take my best wishes to the Chair of the Women’s Hall Committee.

Samuel had joined me at the gate to wave him off.

As we turned back to the bungalow I felt the light touch of his dark hand on my arm.

Poor Major, you will be missing the good Padre now. Here am I, Samuel, to be at your beck and call. I have been at the beck and call of many gentlemen, including the clergy and the military.

I felt a distinct stirring in my regulation roomy drawers.

He stood at my door and smiled shyly. He looked as if butter would not melt in his mouth. I thought it was more likely that butter would melt up his arse. And soon.

And Samuel winked.