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There were two reasons why July 24, 1973 was the hottest work day of my career. The obvious reason was the Eleven PM radio report that stated the temperature had just dipped to 89. The other reason had nothing to do with the stifling heat.
I had just finished gobbling down supper and drove my car to an all-night convenience store, because it was my turn to buy the beer. To make the trip more directly, I took a shortcut on unlit, rutted dirt roads that ran through a neighborhood of old, shotgun houses. Just ahead, beyond my headlight’s range, appeared a strange image of two white rectangles bobbing or floating in the middle of the dirt road. I blinked my eyes several times trying to get an accurate picture; dehydration affects perception and judgment. It looked benign, not like a staring pair of headlights; but still, what was it?
A little more illumination from my car’s headlights briefly suggested the bottom edges of the white rectangles were slowly fluttering back and forth. Next, with more light bathing the subjects, I realized that I was looking at two female asses, both wearing white short shorts. I could make out a brown top on the girl in the middle of the street and a turquoise top on the other girl near the shoulder as I slowed to pass. Now closer, the girls stopped in the middle of the road and turned to look me over. Impulsively, I rolled down the window and stopped the car.
“Hi, you girls sure look sharp tonight. I’m Allan, Allan Arbinger. How ya doin’?” Six years of marriage had made my pick-up lines rusty.
“Hi, Allan,” answered the thinner one in the turquoise top. She strained to look at me. The dashboard lights provided my only illumination. “I’m Rene Caruthers and this is Cleo Watkins.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Rene and you, Cleo. It’s a hot one tonight. I was just headed to the convenience store to buy some beer. Can I give you two a ride, at least that far?” I asked. I was way out of my league. Picking up strange women was something Tyndale would do.
“A ride to the convenience store?” answered Rene who turned to look her right. “What do you think Cleo?”
“Okay. It’s on the way to Ricky’s,” responded Cleo. “Does he look safe to you?” Cleo was brunette and the heavier of the two. Her hair was shoulder length and the moonlight showed a pretty, jelly bean shaped face. She had the nicely formed ass that had delightfully danced in the headlights for me and the moonlight shadows on her brown shirt suggested nicely formed breasts residing just below; breasts that I craved to touch and kiss.
“Well,” Rene paused looking at my dark figure circumspect. “I think he looks safe.” Thankfully, Rene seemed more enthusiastic about my ride offer. Rene sported cheaply bleached blonde hair that probably reached her collar, when she wore one. She had a pretty round face and, like Cleo, was shod in brown penny loafers.
“I’m glad that you approve, girls,” I said as I opened the car door, letting the moonlight reveal me to them. The extreme physical labor of my job kept me physically fit to where my veins snaked along my arms. “The car’s air conditioned. Get in. I’ll get you a beer at the store, okay?” I offered.
“Okay,” said Cleo and she bent to get in on the driver’s side and slid along to the passenger door. Their easy continence suggested to me that they were just out for the evening and looking for something to do.
“Great. I’m thirsty,” replied Rene. She slid in next to the middle. When I sat myself down and began to drive, Rene slid back snugly against me. Her thigh pressed firmly against my thigh. I suspected that Rene was horny and that I might actually pull this off.
“I was going to go pick up some beer for our train ride to Indiantown. Have you ever ridden a freight train? If you’d like, I can sneak you into the caboose. We’ll be back by five AM. It will be a lot of fun. I guarantee it’ll be a wild ride; you won’t forget it. Wanna try it?” I laid it all out there expecting certain rejection.
Rene spoke looking for confirmation from Cleo, “I guess we can go to Ricky’s tomorrow night, okay?” If there was a response from Cleo, I never heard it. “Sure, Allan,” Rene answered, “we’ll ride in your caboose tonight.”
“Great. It will be nice to have some company. When we get to the convenience store please call home and tell your moms that you’ll be back after 5 AM,” I said trying to conceal my glee.
What had I done now? Tyndale could reject it but he wouldn’t. I was putting my new railroad career in jeopardy by bringing women aboard the train, but then the beer could also get me fired. Then, there was Mr. Christian — Simon Samuels, the engineer; he would have no part of this. Tyndale would have to help.
I gave each girl a dime and they made their calls home while I went inside the store to pick up a case of cold beer and ice. In the harsh glare of the convenience store lights we checked each other out, without pretending not to. I was drawn to Cleo’s pretty face Ankara escort and the extra weight that filled out her figure giving her a nice shapely butt and those large, attention-grabbing breasts. My mind vividly undressed Cleo while making the purchase. Would this actually happen?
Back in the car, with Rene again snuggled up, thigh to thigh, to me, she pulled the tabs on three beers and we imbibed on the way back to the depot. The neighborhood streets were nearly empty. To make light conversation I began with, “So Cleo, what do you and Rene like to do after work?” was all I had to say to launch Rene into a discourse of their present conditions. They had just graduated high school and were working as check-out girls at a grocery store. They hated the work and crummy pay.
I directed the car to the far end of the depot parking lot and parked opposite of our orange caboose. I interrupted Rene’s babbling conversation with instructions, “Quiet now. We’ll board the caboose and stow the beer. I want you to stay down because I don’t want the engineer to see you. He probably won’t since he’ll be on the engine, but just in case. He’s a pisser. You’ll be okay. Are you excited Rene? Cleo?” I asked.
“I guess,” Cleo nodded affirmatively. Once the car motor was off, the dominant night sound, emanating from the far end of the siding, was the sound of the throaty, idling diesel locomotive accompanied by a fainter, high pitched supercharger. This sound was punctuated with frequent spitting of excess compressed air.
We entered the caboose and I stowed the beer in the cooler and directed the girls to sit on the bunks. “Where’re we going, Allan?” Rene asked.
“This job is the second West Palm Switcher,” I answered. “We work from 5 PM until 5 AM. We’ve spent all day building our train for Indiantown. We usually lunch here and then run an hour to Indiantown. There we spend about three hours putting out loads and pulling empties. Then we run another hour back, put our train away, and knock off.” Things seemed to be progressing well but then there was still Tyndale to deal with. The night concealed the dirty and crude accommodations. To avoid any suspicion from the other crew members, I re-parked my car near the other cars and walked into the crew room.
Two of the crew immediately looked at me with expressions that clearly read, “You’re late and you’re in big trouble.” They stood up to go to work. Tyndale looked up, immediately slammed his girlie magazine to the table, yelling, “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Sorry, I had diarrhea,” I feigned. I handed the bag of beers to Sedgwick and said, “Here, I’m gonna ride in the cab northbound.”
“The hell you are — so you can sleep?” Tyndale looked suspiciously at me. “We only take the cab ’cause the trainmaster says so; this ain’t no damned through freight. You’ll ride in the engine where the work is, you fuck-off.”
I picked up my radio and followed the crew out towards the engine. “John,” I called out to Tyndale. He turned and I motioned that I had a secret. I spoke low, “I have two girls in the cab. Still wanna ride on the engine?”
Tyndale turned to look at me. “You ain’t shittin’ me, are you boy? I’ll kick your ass,” he said, giving me the evil eye. I shook my head. Tyndale pitched his booming voice to the brakeman and the engineer headed to the engine, “Hey, Arbinger’s got the runs. I’m gonna ride the cab so’s he don’t fall in.”
Tyndale and Samuels were deep country boys. Big, muscular, mustached, and thirty-one, John Tyndale was often mistaken for the Dolphin’s fullback Larry Csonka in the local bars. He told me that he had to learn the names of the coaching staff to keep people believing in him while he consumed their hospitality and beer. We walked back to the caboose and boarded the front door. The girls shrieked as they huddled together. They had an uncertain look in their eyes. I spoke first, “This is John Tyndale our conductor. He’s the boss and what he says goes. John, let me introduce Rene and Cleo. I promised to show them a wild train ride.”
Tyndale cracked a rare smile and launched into a polite character that I never thought possible. He dismissed me with, “Go check the brakes.” As he showed the girls the observation cupola, I went outside and radioed the engineer set the brakes and then release. We were ready to go. Tyndale passed around the beers in time to hear the slack being taken up as the locomotive pulled forward.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Boom. The caboose’s sides flexed as it jolted into forward motion. The girls squealed. Tyndale and I laughed. Our trip to Indiantown had begun.
“A good way to see the countryside is from the cupola. Let me show you,” I said. Rene and Cleo followed me to the ladder where I directed them to climb to the cupola chairs on top.
Rene asked, “Why are the seats so high up?
“As the train rounds a curve you can see if anything’s on fire. These are the comfortable chairs because the old through Ankara escort bayan freight crews would often ride for sixteen hours at a time,” I explained. Although she looked at me sincerely, I easily determined that Rene was uninterested in railroad lore. Her short bobbed hair enhanced her pretty face in the passing lights as we rolled on.
The train continued to pick up speed. The click-clack of the rails became faster and the uneven track made the cab car gently bounce. The meeting of the rail and the wheel underneath the cab provided most of the noise. Sometimes the sound was punctuated by the engineer blowing for a crossing ahead and the gate’s ringing bells and flashing lights would later whisk by. The cab’s worn out seals meant that little streams of air constantly passed through the caboose. As the train approached the city limits there was less exterior light, making the cab interior even darker.
“Rene, could you come down here, please,” requested Tyndale in his polite voice. Rene obediently rose and climbed down the steps. Instinctively, I surmised that Tyndale had begun to make his move on Rene. No brilliant tactical moves came to me with Cleo. If I blew it with Cleo by saying something stupid, Tyndale would tell everyone, over and over.
I moved to the now vacant seat and looked over at Cleo who was amusing herself by putting her face into a stream of leaked air that gently tossed her hair and cooled her face. “What do you think about train riding?” I asked, immediately realizing how stupid it sounded.
Cleo finished the last of her beer and just shrugged, “I guess it’s better than going to Ricky’s.” I studied Cleo in the dark. The clicking and clacking of the rails continued to gently rock us.
“I’m not from this area; is Ricky’s a club or a bar?” I asked.
Cleo giggled. “No Allan, Ricky is someone we knew in high school. He sells pot. We were looking for something to do tonight when you appeared. You looked safe. Are you safe?” she teased.
“I guess you’ll have to find out,” I teased back. “I found you very attractive back there on that dirt road. The moonlight favors you, Cleo,” I complimented but she looked blankly at me without response. Actually, the moonlight washed all her color away and left her face a bright gray. Her brunet hair was solidly black. I filled the conversation void with, “Do you find that seat comfortable, Cleo?”
“It’s all right. Can I have another beer?” she asked, setting down her empty can. In the dim light of the caboose, Cleo forced a smile. I’d rather she pretended infatuation with me, but then, nobody was aboard for love. The randomly vibrating caboose gently shook all of her flesh.
“Certainly, you may have another beer,” I rose and moved to take her empty can. Surprising Cleo and myself, I impulsively bent over and kissed her lips and then rushed down the ladder to retrieve two beers from the forward room. As I ascended the rungs I caught a glimpse John and Rene embracing; Rene was clad only in her panties.
Sitting in my seat, I pulled the pop tabs open. Cleo began to glare at me when I did not pass the can to her. “Come sit with me, Cleo. You haven’t seen this side yet,” I offered. She crossed over and sat on my lap. We drank and I began to run my hands up and down her back to her delight.
Looking outside Cleo complained, “There’s nothing to see. This side is swampland, too.”
“True,” I said, “but now I have a pretty girl on my lap. She is very sexy. Is she ticklish, too?” I began to walk my fingers in spider fashion around her ribs and stomach, which revealed her ticklishness. Cleo turned her head to look at me. I quickly moved my hands to guide her face farther around so that I could properly kiss her. She relaxed her lips and I directed my tongue inside her mouth to tantalize her. She seemed to relax all over. Finally, I directed my free hand to encompass those magnificent breasts. She responded by wiggling her butt on my lap and then she penetrated her tongue into my mouth. Being encouraged, I lowered my hands from her breasts and began to stroke her thighs and moving up and down her inner thighs as she spread her legs in the cramped position. Cleo tried to arouse me by stroking part of my chest with her hand but the cramped position was just too awkward.
“I want you, Cleo,” I spoke low, “Let’s go downstairs.”
“I’m ready,” she replied. She got up and climbed down the copula ladder to the main floor. I followed.
We went into the forward room and I said, “Kiss me again, Cleo.” There was no ignoring the unmistakable sounds of slapping flesh and passionate grunts coming from the next room.
“No, take your shirt off, Allan,” Cleo said and she removed her own brown top and bra. I stared at those eye-popping breasts as they gently rocked as the caboose rocked. Cleo took me by the hand and, to my surprise, led me into the dark of the back room where Rene was finishing off John.
The black bunk mattress was on the Escort Ankara floor with Rene on her back with her knees up and bent to allow her feet to be located just behind her hips, but spread wide apart. John’s cheek muscles flexed with each thrust into Rene; his manner and speed was like a mad man. Rene rolled her head from side to side with her hands firms fixed into John’s scalp. I stood behind Cleo and let my hands fondle her breasts at will, the nipples now hard, until John climaxed and collapsed. Rene gave a look at Cleo with a crooked smile. Cleo turned to me and, pushing on my chest to leave the room, said, “That’s what I want, Allan. Can you do that to me?”
In the next room I half whispered, “You let me know afterwards.” I sat and began to quickly untie my boots, but paratrooper boots take a long time to unlace. Cleo calmly stood watching me as she kicked off her penny loafers and then slid off her white short shorts. I just couldn’t make my fingers move any faster on those boots. Eventually, I stood to unbuckle and remove my jeans. I stood ready in my whites with my boy at action station, as the Brits would say.
“Cleo,” I said, “turn around. I want to see your butt.” Cleo giggled and dutifully turned and I slowly pulled down her panties to her ankles and then I stepped back to admire this woman. “Such a magnificent ass; this is Hall of Fame ass, you know,” I complimented her. She as a bit heavy but nicely proportioned for comfort. “So, turn around now, Cleo,” I almost begged. Doing so, Cleo gave me an expectant smile. Her full bush of lush brown hair and magnificent breasts stopped all time for me; there was only one thing to do now. “Come, lay on the bunk, Cleo,” and I guided her to lie on her back. The clicking and clacking of the rails added to the racing of our hearts.
My natural instinct is to shove it in and pump away until I explode but long ago I learned its better to make love to a woman in a way in which she begs for me again and again. I knelt to kiss those magnificent melons and tease them with my tongue. My left hand softly caressed her cheeks and lips while my right hand touched her gently between her legs. I could feel moisture building as I kept rummaging through the outer labia, teasing her clit and vagina. Sensing the symptoms of the building organism in her, I raised my head to begin kissing her mouth. She tried to wrap her tongue around mine as if to pull me into her. Her hands caressed my head and hair. Then her nearest hand sought to find my penis but I kept my hips too far back. I would control this seduction and not her.
“Come into me now, Allan. What are you waiting for?” Cleo implored. I could feel the first preliminary waves of orgasm shake her body. “Hurry up, Allan.” I disengaged and stood up to peel off my white underwear. I noticed Tyndale and Rene standing naked by the cupola rungs watching us. At first, I stood to block Cleo’s view of the voyeurs but gave up to get on with business. Cleo seemed transfixed by the watchers until I rammed it hard up her; I swear my dick must have reached up to her throat.
The dim cab, the gentle rushing wind through the poorly sealed caboose, the spectators behind me, the illicitness of the affair, the steady rocking of the car that rocked those large, beautiful breasts all combined to make this most memorable coitus of my life. A series of deep and frequent thrusts would passionately and delightfully move Cleo and me along to orgasm. To keep this from ending too soon, I presented a series of less frequent thrusts and pulled my body back to where I could sense my penis head was almost out of her before sending it in again. To this Cleo would try to lower her pelvis to prevent me from slipping out and she would plead, “Fuck me! Fuck me harder!” It was during a transition from slow thrusts to fast thrusts that Cleo dug her nails into my scalp and pleaded, “Fuck me harder! Harder!” Her body writhed passionately.
“Keep going, Cleo. Don’t stop,” I commanded. Cleo’s body was heaving as she gushed out her climax all over my dick and the black plastic mattress. I arched up my body in sweet pain, “Keep going. Keep moving,” I said as my body stiffened with an explosion of ecstasy.
Cleo kept grinding until I sunk on top of her in a worthless heap. She immediately yelled, “Get off of me, asshole. I can’t breathe.” I rolled onto the floor and lay on my back. John and Rene smiled at each other. Cleo sat up immediately grabbing for her clothes, “Sorry Allan. I didn’t mean it.”
“Wait,” I said gasping for breathe, “I have an idea. Wait. A second please. Just put your shoes on. Don’t lace them. Rene and John, do me this favor. Just put your shoes on. I want to show you something, okay? It won’t take long and it will be something memorable.”
Rene agreed and left to put on her loafers. As Tyndale followed her out, he quipped, “You don’t have to apologize, Cleo. He is an asshole. I know him better than you.” Cleo shot him a quizzical glance. Tyndale stammered. “I mean, I’ve known him longer than you.” Cleo smiled.
“That’s not what you just said, John,” mused Rene. “So, what have you two boys been doing riding in this caboose until you met two horny bitches tonight, huh? I wanna know.”
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