The train

The train glides smoothly as it enters the halt. Less than half to my destination. We do not travel many passengers. Not thirty percent of the car is occupied. A man and a woman, the latter of advanced age, get on the halt. The man is carrying a tied cardboard box. My first impression is that they travel together. But they choose separate seats. The man occupies one that is diagonal to mine. I see him perfectly and he sees me.

I continue reading the newspaper as soon as the train starts up again.

However, I am curious about the new traveler. He will be my age, which is already over fifty. Maybe he is less. He wears a denim jacket over a white shirt. His skin is tan, I imagine from working outdoors. He has shaved thoroughly and his round face is full of health. Her hair is very short and the crown is already depopulated. I look at his hands, with their hard nails and big fingers. Altogether he is a man with a broad body and thick thighs.

When I guess that he is going to look where I am, I go back to my reading. But reading the newspaper has ceased to interest me and I leave it on the empty seat next to me.

-Would you let me?

The newcomer speaks to me. He wants me to lend him the journal. I hand it to him.

"Very kind," he tells me with the flat speech of the inhabitants of those lands halfway between the highest mountains and the plateaus where the populous cities grow.

I think of the traveler I occasionally observe. It reminds me of a teacher I had in elementary school who was nicknamed the gorilla, who would hold you with one hand and lift you up. He was a merciless bastard who did not hesitate to slap you to the minimum. He implanted a regime of terror in his classroom and enjoyed it, although over the years the memory of that teacher may be somewhat distorted and exaggerated.

I fall asleep with the evocation and the soft rattle of the train.

"Tickets" passes the conductor. He only asks the new traveler and the old lady.

-Is the cafeteria open? -I ask.

-Yes, of course.

I get up and turn to her.

While they prepare me a coffee I see that the new traveler enters the cafeteria car.

"I left the newspaper for you on the seat," he says kindly.

-Thanks.

-Could I have another coffee? -Request the waiter.

Soon they serve us. The new traveler is standing next to me. I feel her carnality with the proximity of her body.

-Is it coming from the city?

-I'm going to the spa. Some friends gave me a weekend stay for my birthday.

-Has he never been?

-My first time.

-It's nice. You will like it.

- The truth, with changing a little of airs and I am satisfied.

-And what kind of work does he do?

-In the Administration And you?

-I do a bit of everything: bricklayer, plumber, gardener, farmer, rancher ... A bit of everything. As the saying goes: apprentice of much, master of nothing. But I'm pulling and that's how I earn a living.

-If it has given him to help his family move forward, it has been for the good.

-Well, yes, you're right. Why are we going to complain?

We finished our coffee. I want to pay mine but the countryman insists on running the bill.

"Because of the newspaper," he tells me.

I resign myself to him paying even though I don't like it very much. I do not know him at all and it does not seem to me that the mere fact of lending the newspaper is sufficient reason for an invitation because on the train any drink is expensive.

We return to the wagon that corresponds to us.

-Do you mind if I sit here? -He says pointing to the empty seat next to mine?

"No," I say with more kindness than you want. I'm beginning to suspect that the heavier guy in the outline has stuck to me.

-You will like the spa. The hotel is more than a hundred years old, but inside they have left it like new. It seems that you are in the times of queer but with everything from now. And I worked on the arrangement. Pawn.

I nod with what remains of my kind smile, that is, a false mirage.

"And you haven't brought the woman?" -He interrogates me.

-I am not married.

-Well, the partner or the friend.

-I don't have a partner or a friend.

-Does not like? Or have you gotten tired?

-See, it's not a topic I want to talk about.

The civilian puts his big hands together and fiddles with his fingers.

-I warn you that nothing scares me, eh? I'm from town but I find out about everything. I do not know if I explain myself.

-Look, it is not my intention to miss you. I just want you to understand that I don't have to tell you about my private life.

-No, if I understand. But I don't pretend either, huh? And I'm sorry if I have bothered you. Come on, let's make it up.

The citizen offers me his hand to shake. In an act of goodwill I accept his gesture. But when I shake it I feel how he presses mine with force and transmits a pleasant warmth to me. For an instant I look into his eyes. He keeps his eyes on me. I don't know how to interpret this moment.

The citizen gets up, takes the cardboard box he brought with him, and opens it. Inside there are some sweets in the form of dumplings. He offers me one.

-Test them.

I do. They are really good. They contain an almond-based paste.

-An aunt of mine makes them. Every month I come to visit her and I take a box home with me.

I savor the sweet as I watch the increasingly rugged landscape out the window.

-Women are a complication -said the citizen- And I think mine is the most complicated of all. I never know what he wants. Do you know what I mean?

My mouth is full and I shake my head.

-What is it going to be? What we all like, right?

He gives me an obscene gesture with his hips

-Or you don't like it? -he insists- Don't tell me you don't like it because I don't believe it.

-I suppose some will like it more than others.

-Well, I like to rage. And I need it.

The civilian looks back in case someone hears us and adds lowering his voice.

-I have to download almost daily. It is like that and I can't help it. Or with my wife ... or just me. I thought that over the years I would feel like it, but nothing like that. I even thought about going to the doctor. But...

-He's ashamed.

-You are right. Wouldn't you give it?

-He hasn't hit me.

After saying what I just said, I regret it. I have given a clue that I did not want.

"Have you been to a doctor? Do you also have to unload with anyone?"

I have doubts as to whether I should speak to this stranger or shut up. The citizen looks at me impatiently.

-I have been to the doctor but for the opposite of you. My desire has disappeared.

He makes a face of disbelief.

-And how do you notice it?

"How do you notice those things? Well, when there is an opportunity I ... I don't get it."

I find myself uncomfortable bringing up the subject for a walk.

-In other words, a woman is put in front of you, wide open and with all the desire for everything and nothing at all?

-To begin with ... even if all the women in the world were called me as you have described, I would never feel the slightest attraction. And that was not now nor when he was fourteen years old and he was hard-wired all day.

-And then what do you like?

-I like things clear and thick chocolate.

I have started to speak aggressively. I realize. I tell myself that I better calm down. I am also convinced that the civilian is going to stop giving me the murga after what I just "confessed" to him.

-And you no longer feel like it? -He returns to the charge, exposing the wrongness of my calculation.

-With a woman? In the life.

-Okay, I understood. I mean if you don't feel like it anymore ... whatever it was that you felt like before.

This damn little town is not going to leave me alone. And I don't have the slightest intention of ...

-No, I don't feel like it anymore.

-And what did the doctor tell you?

-Silly stuff.

"Man, something would tell him not to be silly!"

The citizen has me puzzled by his interest. I remember that Hitchcock movie, "Strangers on a Train." Will this man end up proposing that I kill his wife? I smile with my association.

-Tell me, I'm interested. Who knows if I don't have to go too.

- He did some tests, also an ultrasound of the kidneys and the bladder, he made me urinate in a kind of vessel to see the force of the jet ... "Everything is fine" he told me. But I notice him in a downcast mood. I think because of your age and the symptoms you are telling me, you need a change ”What kind of change? I wanted to know.

-And what did he say?

I look back at the window and see that we are passing through a landscape of lush oaks.

-While I was young, my desire for sex was easy to satisfy. Even if I didn't like the man I was getting into bed with too much, it didn't matter too much, my hormones did the job. And that has been possible with the twenties, thirty and even part of the forty. But little by little my way of acting had problems. I was no longer aroused with the same ease, my hormones were there but they dragged a logical fatigue over the years and ...

-And that?

-They were no longer willing to get overexcited just for the sake of it. My hormones, my body, my subconscious ... everything! Nothing in me was willing to spend an atom more energy if it was not with something that really reached the depths of my desire.

I examine the civilian's face. He seems spellbound by what I tell him. His lips are slightly parted. They are sensual. I hadn't even realized it until now.

"The doctor has recommended," I continue, to examine my tastes and start looking for what really satisfies me, because only in this way will I prolong my life of pleasure. Otherwise...

-And what have you done?

-For now, come to spend a weekend at the spa in your town. Because for now I can't think of anything else.

A loud rattle shakes us. The road has been unfolded and the new section continues towards the mouth of a different valley.

-Has my story helped you? I ask the citizen.

He runs his hand over his chin as he ponders what to answer.

"It's not my case," he says. "Mine may be that I get excited very easily."

-Well, let it last for many years.

-What happens ... What happens is that my self-righteous wife doesn't give me everything I want.

He seems bitter with the evocation he has had, whatever it is.

-And see that I go out of my way because when we fuck he stays at ease. But we just finished and I want to start again. Or if not in the moment, when I wake up. And more than a day I have had to get up and lock myself in the toilet like a child and jerk off. And you don't know how bad it feels for me to jerk off when I don't need to! That for something I got married, dammit! And there I am, I just got up, with a stiff tail, wet but very wet, that I get a lot, and shaking it like when I had no beard, and letting the cum go down the toilet, which is as if a part of me goes out there, and it annoys me because if I drop something of mine from so deep it is for someone else to pick it up, right? In the pussy or in the ass, in the mouth or wherever. But let it end up wasted down the toilet ...!

I couldn't help but visualize the citizen masturbating. A subtle burning has begun to warm my lower abdomen.

"Yes, that's a shame," I say, imagining a jet of sperm crashing against the white tile of a toilet.

"But I'm not his wife," I clarify quickly, I don't want him to misunderstand me.

There is a tense silence between the two. I think I'm going to use the excuse of going to the bathroom to relax the tension.

-Excuse me, I'm going to the bathroom.

-Hey, how do you do ... how do you like the sexual thing?

The question leaves me nailed in my seat. The civilian awaits my answer with his good legs wide apart and his arms crossed against his chest.

"No ... I don't understand you," I stammer.

"Damn! What does he like when he's with whoever he likes?"

I blush. I don't know whether to give him a monumental cut or to give him explanations as if he were one of my confessors from adolescence, those who asked you if you touched yourself and asked you for details while they manipulated themselves under your cassock.

"I'm hesitant to talk about it," I say, avoiding his gaze.

"I like," he begins, ignoring my discomfort, "grabbing the female from behind and putting his whole cock into her, well inserted." So I can touch her tits while I bust her up and get my hands on the cli ... the clitoris, damn it! -He ends up slapping his forehead- You don't know what it cost me to learn the name of that pot. He said: that this thing about taking the female from behind was taught to me by a whore, who was a gypsy, when I did the militias. He told me: if you want to make a woman happy, it is the best position.

Suddenly he brings his lips to my ear and whispers to me:

-And that they give me a good blowjob. I like that ... I would almost say that the most.

His right knee rubs against my left leg. I don't move my leg away. He does not pull his knee away. The burning of my lower belly grows.

-Do you like to be sucked? Don't tell me no because that's universal. There is no man in this world who dislikes having his cock sucked.

-I'm peeing. Excuse me.

I manage to get up. But he hadn't counted on my erection status. I feel terribly violent.

The countryman opens my way. Unfortunately I am not careful to turn my back on him and he realizes that I am aroused.

"It seems to be healing," he says, pointing to my crotch.

I do not answer.

Gripping the seats I reach for the bathroom door. I go into it and close. It is a small cubicle where to move you have to ask yourself for permission.

I unbutton my fly. My underwear is stained with discharge. I can't believe what is happening to me. I don't know what that man is playing with me. But the truth is that for the first time in a long time I feel excited. What did not happen to me in a dark room, in a sauna, in the bars that I frequent with my friends or in front of a pornographic movie is happening to me on a train and with a stranger. And I have to go back to him. I am terribly attracted to it, and I say terrifyingly because it terrifies me too.

I take a piece of toilet paper to clean myself.

They try to open the door. My heart skips a beat.

-He is okay? -I hear the citizen demand me from the other side of the door.

"Good, thanks," I say somewhat exhausted. Because I start to feel persecuted.

-Sure? Look, it has me worried.

-Don't worry, I'm fine.

-Let me see it.

-But...

-Any problem? -someone else's voice is heard. I think it's the reviewer.

-It's the man who's sitting with me. He has come to the bathroom and I don't know if he's okay.

I open the door quickly. I don't want any fuss to be created.

"I'm fine," he manifested in front of the citizen and the conductor (because he was right about the other voice).

The conductor walks away after insisting the minimum required by the protocol on the health of a traveler.

-Sorry for worrying me but ... I don't know, I thought you were dizzy.

The civilian looks towards the car to see if someone is watching and, pressing me with his sturdy body, he pushes me into the tiny toilet. The two inside and standing is impossible, so I end up sitting on the cup and he raised. I see you close the door and latch it.

The rhythm and movement of the train accompanies us. We look at each other. I feel extremely violent.

The citizen puts a hand on my head. Caresses me. Her mouth is slightly ajar again and her lips look wet and vicious.

His rough-touch hand glides carefully down my face and reaches my mouth, brushing his fingers against my lips. It is, for me, a difficult, decisive moment. It is the moment of no ... or yes.

I kiss his fingers, lick them. They are big, tough, tough. Put a couple of them in my mouth. I suck them. I watch him as I suck them. He holds my gaze.

He takes my hands. He puts them over his fly. I feel underneath that his cock is hard.

I unbutton his pants. The white boxer shorts that he wears close to the skin perfectly draw the contour of his cock, which is in proportions according to his physique: wide, thick ... vigorous.

I did not lie. It does not stop pouring secretion. As soon as the glans is exposed, a drop detaches itself from the tip as if it were a spider hanging down its long silk thread.

I lower his boxers and reveal his balls. They are loose and fall heavy. You already have some gray hair around you sex.

I take his cock with my hands and bring it to my lips. I smell that mixture of scent of sweat and sperm that emanates from her and her beautiful companions. I kiss the tip. My lips are impregnated with flow.

Someone tries to open the door. The closure prevents it.

The interruption has left us both on hold.

The civilian strokes my head as a signal to calm me down and continue with what I had started.

I'm slowly swallowing his massive cock. I swallow it without the slightest rush. I let it get to my very glottis.

The citizen emits a slight moan of pleasure.

I take his eggs, stretch them out while I gobble his cock.

I swallow and swallow with all my desire. For the most sacred thing, I wanted a tail like that! How good it tastes to me, what a pleasure to feel it whole in my mouth!

I don't close my eyes. I want to see the effect my mouth has on this man. And I see you like it. And he likes a lot. It seems that he has been waiting for some time for another man to give him a pleasure that his self-righteous wife seems to deny him.

I return to ingest it as much as I can. My nose flattens against the hair that frames his cock.

I open his shirt. His slightly prominent belly and his chest pectorals are marked by his physical work. I take her nipples between my fingers, squeeze them and moan. He drives his cock deep into my throat. He leaves it there for me, as if he wants to punish me for pinching his nipples.

Reculate and take it out of my mouth. It vibrates in the air.

Deep breath. I drool. I was about to drown.

"You like to eat cock," he says seriously, tuting me.

"Yes, I like it," I also answer seriously.

-Show me yours, come on.

I lower my pants as I can. I poke the posh spliced by the underpants.

-You did not say that you did not put on anything.

-That happened to me.

-Do you want more? -He says, moving it across my lips.

I do not answer. I just swallow his cock again. And I put my hands on her buttocks. And I lower them down her thighs. He's a real man, one of those guys I've had enough of seeing mending ditches in the streets, or unloading trucks, or playing soccer with his children in the park, and if they looked up, he would immediately turn his head so they wouldn't They will discover me recreating myself with their mature male bodies.

-Want to swallow my milk? -she asks me grass of the pleasure- Do you want to swallow it?

It only occurs to me to sink my fingers into her buttocks and draw them towards me. His thrust nails the back of my neck against the acrylic sheet wall. And I feel in my mouth the taste of semen discharging, and the pressure of his body against my face. You have to bite your fists to avoid letting out some bellow of a desired orgasm.

Little by little he takes it out of me. Some seminal clump still hangs from the tip that comes off and ends up on my stiff and expectant cock.

Lower your right hand to her. He just squeezes my glans moistened with traces of his own semen. He looks me in the eye. I hold his gaze. With his other hand he covers my mouth. He shakes me slowly, insufferably slowly. A pleasure invades me as from adolescence times.

"Let it out," he tells me.

A jet of cum escapes me, crashing against my shirt. And I am left trembling and my mind clouded.

What has this guy done to me, what happened to me?

I hear him speak to me shortly:

-You lied to me.

He takes part of the cum that has stained my shirt with one finger and puts it in my mouth where I lick it eagerly.

- Nothing happens to you.

-With you so it seems.

The locomotive beeps while cornering. The citizen looks at his watch.

"There is little to go," he says.

He cleans up his clothes and leaves the tiny bathroom where I stay to try to clean the stain from my shirt. I can only think of giving him some water and putting on my jacket as soon as I get back to the seat.

And so I do.

The citizen is still sitting in the armchair next to mine. It is serious.

I see that the few passengers who occupy the car begin to take their outerwear and their suitcases. We must be about to reach our destination.

-You see? This is what I meant, ”says the citizen, who has already given up all treatment of you.

-Sorry?

"That I would continue," he says with a worried face. "I want more. What do you think?"

I just came, but his words drive me down again.

-That your wife is very lucky but a fool if she does not know how to appreciate what she has at home. By the way, my name is Justo.

I hold out my hand.

-I am Chorrín, from the Chorrines. It's how they know me, ”he explains when he sees my puzzled expression.

-Want to take some dumplings for the spa? -He says opening the box containing the sweets.

-I would love to, but I have nowhere to take them.

The citizen takes a sheet of the newspaper and wraps two of the sweets in it. Put the wrapper in my jacket pocket.

I am not opposed to the operation.

The train slows down. We have arrived.

Chorrín takes the cardboard box with the sweets and after giving me a look that I don't know how to interpret, he gets off the train.

I just sit there and exhausted. I'd run after him to offer to start over. But I regain my sanity.

The conductor, who checks that no traveler has fallen asleep or forgotten luggage, kindly invites me to leave the train.

I do.

When I step on the platform, there is no longer a trace of any traveler.