The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit
By M. Christian • Feb 9th, 2001 • Category: Pure Gold: Erotica from the ArchivesHe seemed a nice enough guy.
Just outside of Chicago he opened the compartment door, smiled and — without a word — indicated the seat opposite with a tilt of his head.
The train was almost empty. My woman-sitting-by-herself paranoia had long ago been wiped away by the boredom of watching the landscape blur by. So: “Sure,” I said, giving him a welcome gesture.
Tall, broad. Not fat, just big. Face that may have worked the land at some point, now gone a bit soft. His eyes, though, were anything but. Funny how one resorts to clichés when talking faces, but his was too classic not to use it: steel gray. Hard eyes. But there was something else there, too, something that made me forget my place in the book I was trying to read. Something too crafty, too intelligent, for the cheap suit and the gone-to-soft muscles.
A few clicking, clacking miles later, he started a conversation about the railroads. Not many people traveled them, not many even thought of them as a way to get from here to there. “Good people, though,” I remember him saying, “use the rails. People who don’t see the obvious route. The road less traveled and all that shit. True, though. Us train people, we don’t just go — we cruise.”
I agreed, interested in him — or the something about him that I couldn’t place beyond the classical demeanor.
“Something about a train… manly, I’d call it. Stokes the boiler, you know what I mean? Shovels the coal into the ol’ furnace,” saying this, he started to rub his crotch, slowly at first, but then with a escalating rhythm. Through the cheap material I could see the hardness of his dick.
He gripped his member in a callused hand. “Something about the rails, something about… cruising, I guess you could say.” He looked down at his dick, then slowly unzipped his fly and hauled it out.
I’d seen my share of dicks, and his wasn’t anything special. Again, clichés, but there was something about him — aside from the lurking “other” — that just ached for that kind of description: long, strong dick. Uncut head. Smooth skin. No fancy words, just a man’s dick in a man’s hand.
“Yes, sir,” he repeated after licking his hand and starting to stroke himself. “Something about a train just makes a man want to yank.”
And so he did, and as he did, I couldn’t help but watch, couldn’t help but touch myself — slowly, casually at first, as if brushing aside lint from my skirt, but then with more enthusiasm.
“Fine one,” he said, nodding his head towards my bunched skirt, my slightly parted thighs.
“Yours, too,” I echoed, matching him stroke for stroke. There, in the moving train, I had an image of staring into someone else’s mirror, watching myself wearing someone else’s body, and face, feeling his dick in my hand, watching his bliss dawn on my face. Without awareness, our breathing matched, became one person — one man sitting in a moving train, stroking his cocks, fingering her pussies, watching his faces. Now, when I rub myself and think of him, I never wonder why I didn’t just get up and take him down my throat, or why he didn’t get down and lick me. It wasn’t what that trip was about, wasn’t the tracks we were both on.
Then we were there — no, the train hadn’t shuddered to a stop, hadn’t achieved its goal. Rather we had reached ours — his sticky come splashing down onto the dirty floor, mine less fluid, but more muscular: two groans, twin signs of bliss and release.
One breath, or two, three, four, maybe five. Not six, though — not that long. Just long enough to still a hammering heart. Then he neatly put his lovely cock away, zipped himself up, rearranged his simple suit, and got up.
And with a “nice traveling with you,” he went out with a simple smile on his beaming face, closing the door as he went.
But, before it closed, he said, “Nice getting there with ya.”
M. Christian is the editor of Eros Ex Machina and Midsummer Night’s Dreams, coeditor of Rough Stuff,and author of the forthcoming Dirty Words.
M. Christian >> M. Christian is the author of the critically acclaimed and best selling collections Dirty Words, Speaking Parts, The Bachelor Machine and the upcoming Filthy. He is the editor of The Burning Pen, Guilty Pleasures, the Best S/M Erotica series, The Mammoth Book of Future Cops and The Mammoth Book of Tales of the Road (with Maxim Jakubowski) and over 14 other anthologies. His short fiction has appeared in over 200 publications including Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Transgender Erotica, Best Fetish Erotica, Best Bondage Erotica and … well, you get the idea. He just finished one novel for Alyson Books, and has a second coming from Haworth Books. For more info, check out www.mchristian.com.
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