Sleeper
                        (MF, oral, swap, slow)

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I couldn't believe what my staid middle-aged wife did on our vacation,
but considering what I did at the same time, I was in no position, or
mood, to make a stink about it.

Note: this story starts out as more of a travelogue than an erotic
story, but if you are patient the 'good' parts will come. It's just
that, as I hope you will come to realize, most readers will need some
scene setting for the action.

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Vacation, when the kids were little, always meant camping in the
mountains. Camping for us meant driving far enough away from
civilization that we had at least one hundred yards in every direction
with no one else around. It meant sleeping bags, with a tent for Mom
and Dad and the two kids out under the stars. It meant collecting
downed wood for an evening campfire, and hot cocoa in the morning to
help us warm up. It meant hikes, relaxing by a stream, and listening to
nature.

When the kids got older they became very involved with their friends,
their part-time jobs, and their high school related activities. For a
few years, there, we really didn't take any vacations. Then, four years
ago, our daughter got married. Our son tied the knot two years ago, and
we suddenly had an empty nest. Marsha and I looked at each other and
had that devastating realization that comes some time in your late
forties, the realization that our life was probably at least half over.

Last year we knew it was time to take a vacation again, just the two of
us, and we decided to do something totally different – we went on a
cruise. Well, it was different, all right, and sort of interesting as a
one-time thing, but we knew it wasn't really us. We both grew up in
Colorado, and had raised our kids in Colorado Springs, right up against
the Rockies. We were mountain people, not ocean people.

This year, clear back in January, we started thinking about our
vacation for the year. We were determined that it would have something
to do with the mountains, and yet, we agreed, it would not be camping
this time. The ground had gotten much less comfortable to sleep on than
it used to be, isolation with no kids around seemed like too much of a
good thing, tents didn't really provide much privacy, and cooking over
a tiny gasoline stove on a chilly morning no longer sounded like fun.

It was Marsha who came up with the winning suggestion. "Ron, have you
ever been to Yosemite?"

"No, but I've wanted to go there. Have you ever seen it?"

"No, I haven't either. Why don't we go there this year?"

If you draw a straight line from our house to Yosemite it's about 800
miles. There are many very high mountains along that line, and the few
roads in the area aren't the sort you'd want to drive on for 900 miles,
so flying appeared to be the obvious way to get there. On the other
hand, neither of us have ever liked flying, and the conditions seem to
get worse every year, with long lines for security checkpoints, cramped
seats, few meals, and no movies. Once we realized there were no major
airports anywhere close to Yosemite, we ruled out flying.

That left driving, and I started planning the trip. The best I could
come up with on decent roads was a 2600 mile round trip, which Google
told me would mean 45 hours on the road. I knew we wouldn't want to
drive all day, so I spread the trip out over four days each way. Marsha
groaned when I showed her my plans, and we almost abandoned the idea
right then.

The news got worse as winter started to give way to spring. This was
the year that oil first went over $100 per barrel, and gas prices were
shooting up at an unbelievable rate. We were hearing predictions that
it was likely to cost $4 per gallon by summer, probably even more in
California. With our car that would mean five or six hundred dollars
for gas alone, not to mention wear and tear, and the eight days on the
road eating in restaurants and sleeping in motels. On top of that we'd
have some hefty expenses in Yosemite once we got there.

That would stretch our budget to, or perhaps beyond, the breaking
point, and we reluctantly decided we would have to give up on our
Yosemite dream.

We were moaning to one of our friends about this, when he said, "Have
you thought about taking the train?"

The train? What does he think this is, 1900? Do they even have
passenger trains any more?

Our friend assured us that they did, that they were very comfortable,
and surprisingly cheap. He told us he had ridden one, and really
enjoyed it.

A little time on the internet convinced me that he was right on the
price, but there did seem to be some problems. They didn't run very
frequently, so we wouldn't have any choice about what time of day we
went. They didn't run very fast, so we would have to be on the train
overnight. And they didn't always run on schedule, so we would have to
live with possible delays.

We would be able to get to Yosemite, but only by transferring to a
second train in Sacramento, and later to a bus. Transferring didn't
appeal to me, given what I'd read about the trains sometimes being
hours behind schedule. Perhaps worst of all, there wouldn't be any
rental cars available once we got into the park.

"It looks like we'd be better off flying than taking the train," I
grumbled to Marsha.

She had been looking over my shoulder for part of my research, and
disagreed with me. "Didn't you notice the picture of the seats on the
Amtrak web site? You'd have to fly first class, at least, to get a seat
like that on a plane. And how about the meals? They have a dining car
with real tablecloths and plates, not TV dinners on a tiny shelf at
your seat. And you're free to walk around anywhere, any time. No seat
belts! They even have an observation car."

"Sounds to me like you're sold."

She nodded. "You know what else," she argued, "we wouldn't have to take
the train all the way. We could rent a car in Sacramento and drive from
there. That way we wouldn't have any transfers."

"But what about having to sleep in the seat?"

"We've slept on the plane before; it wouldn't be too bad. Besides,
didn't they say they also had sleeping rooms?"

"Yes," I snorted, "but those have got to be just for rich people."

"I don't think many rich people ride on trains. Why don't you at least
see how much it would cost."

OK, back to the web site to get a quote. I couldn't believe the answer.
Round trip Denver to Sacramento with what they called a 'roomette'
would only cost $1200 for the two of us, and the kicker was that all
meals were included. The drive from Sacramento to Yosemite didn't look
all that far, and that would give us the car we thought we needed. We'd
have that car cost even if we flew, and we'd probably have to drive all
the way from San Francisco.

Compare that to gas, food, and motels for eight days if we drove, or
the discomforts and costs of flying, and it looked like a real bargain.
Sign me up!

So it was that on a bright June afternoon we made the short trip up to
Denver, the back of the car filled with suitcases containing everything
that we would need for the next ten days. Marsha's brother lived in
Denver, and we stayed overnight with him, then he drove us to the train
station early in the morning.

I had some real misgivings when we pulled up at the station. It was a
relic from the 19th century – I felt as if there should be horses and
buggies out front, not cars. The place was huge, both inside and out.
We walked into a cavernous hall with an impossibly high ceiling and a
huge mural on the wall. On the floor were rows of old-fashioned
straight-backed wood benches, rather like church pews, but in pairs
facing each other. In place of airport ticket counters we found ancient
teller windows with ancient men issuing tickets.

I'll have to admit, though, that there was another way of looking at
that picture. There were no rope-constrained baffles with long lines of
people snaking through them; no metal detectors to pass through; no
uniformed agents screening carry-on luggage; no signs saying
'passengers only beyond this point,' 'no entry,' or 'remove your
shoes.' We were free to wander wherever we pleased, even out onto the
tracks. Out there we were met by a sharply dressed black porter who
courteously answered our questions and showed us where to stand for
best access to the sleeper cars. We had truly fallen through a time
warp into a different world.

The train itself, once it arrived, was sleek and shiny. The
appointments were as plush as the web pictures had made them appear,
apart from narrow aisles and a claustrophobic twisting staircase
leading to the upper level. Our roomette on the upper level was mostly
filled by two super wide reclining seats facing each other with
adequate foot room between. It had a very solid sliding door with a
large glass window and a curtain for privacy. Two more large windows
gave us a panoramic view of the scenery outside – no little portholes
here.

It wasn't nirvana, though. There were the toilets, which were down the
hall and just as cramped as the ones you find on airplanes, and the
'closet' which was wide enough for two garments if you slipped them in
very carefully. More significantly, no one told us about the swaying
train, exaggerated on the upper level, and the 'drunken sailor walk'
the swaying caused as we tried to make our way from place to place.

Then there were the beds. We really found what the '-ette' part of
roomette meant that night when the porter converted it to the nighttime
configuration. The two seats reclined all the way flat to form a bed,
but it was a bed about the size of an army cot. There was obviously no
way two adults could sleep there, no matter how friendly they tried to
be. A bunk bed swung down from the ceiling, but it was even narrower,
more like a high ledge. And once the bed was down, there was just about
room to twist your foot in sideways between it and the sliding door.
The next morning we were up before 6 AM, pleading with the porter to
convert the room back to two seats.

The meals were definitely on the plus side of the ledger. There really
were white tablecloths on the tables, and the freshly prepared food,
brought up from a kitchen on the lower level, was served by friendly
waiters. Amazingly, it really was free – no hidden charges, and
anything we wanted. Well, anything on the menu, that is. That gave us
about five choices of entrees for each meal.

We did get one surprise, though. The tables, which were really booths,
held four people each, and the waiters insisted on seating four people
at each table. Because of this we ended up sitting with two strangers
for each meal. That seemed a bit awkward at first, but we quickly
caught on to the nearly universal passenger solution to this strange
situation. Our meal partners became new acquaintances, rather than
strangers. We were, after all, sharing a rather unique experience.
Coach riders ate at one end of the dining car, and sleeper riders at
the other, and most people who paid for sleepers were couples. We met
couples who were train enthusiasts, and others like ourselves who were
on their first ride. All of them had interesting stories and were
pleasant to talk with.

It was actually with some reluctance that we got off the train in
Sacramento the next afternoon, loaded our stuff into a rental car, and
pointed it toward Yosemite. We arrived there, very tired, about 9:30
that night. The park's fabled wonders would have to wait. All we wanted
was a real bed in a real room, and my reservation at Yosemite Lodge fit
the bill perfectly.

Yosemite was awesome, and we spent a happy week exploring it. We gazed
at the towering cliffs and thrilled at the waterfalls; we drove up to
the rim and looked down into the valley; we spent hours walking in
hushed reverence among the giant Sequoias; and yes, we saw several
bears.

One thing bothered us a bit. There must have been thousands of people
in Yosemite Valley, but they were all strangers, all tourists locked up
in their own worlds. No one wanted to make new friends, and we
basically didn't talk to a soul the whole week. We found ourselves
pining for the random mealtime pairings on the train.

Finally our vacation in that magical valley was over, and we drove back
to Sacramento one afternoon, staying in a hotel there that night. The
next morning we caught the 10:09 train – which didn't arrive until
after 11 o'clock.

As we climbed the twisting steps, slipped down the narrow aisle to our
little roomette, and settled into its comfortable recliners, we almost
felt like we were home again. Marsha and I smiled at each other, and
agreed it was a very successful vacation.

At lunch that day we sat with a couple about our own age, and soon
found ourselves chatting like old friends. We all enjoyed ourselves so
much that we planned to arrive together for dinner at six.

When we got back to our roomette, Marsha said, "Oh, I really like Tom
and Jan, don't you?"

"Yes," I agreed, "they're a great couple, and we all seem to have so
much to talk about."

It was true, I did like both of them, but I found myself especially
attracted to Jan. I really wished we could get to know them better, but
I knew it wasn't to be. Our time together would have to end no later
than the next evening, when we got off the train in Denver. We already
knew they were going on to Omaha.

Our little roomette was only a few steps in front of the dining car,
and Jan and Tom went on forward from there when we separated after
lunch, so we had all agreed that we would meet at our roomette before
dinner. Surely if the four of us showed up at the dining car together
we would be seated together.

The call for the six o'clock dinner seating that we had agreed on
triggered a little flutter in my belly. I couldn't wait to see Jan
again. The flutter grew into a knot as they didn't show up immediately.
What if they had changed their minds, and decided not to see us again?
Fortunately, we had to wait less than five minutes, then Marsha and I
both broke out in huge grins as Jan and Tom poked their heads into our
little hideaway. They seemed as happy to see us as we were to see them.

We were so happy to be together that Marsha and Jan gave each other a
big hug while I shook Tom's hand, and then Jan and I reached around
each others' waists for a squeeze while Tom and Marsha did the same. I
caught a glimpse of the start of their squeeze, but then my attention
was focused on Jan. We didn't hug, really, but as we stood side by side
for the squeeze, we bumped our hips together, and we looked into each
others' eyes. Oh, God, I so wanted to take her into my arms.

The moment passed quickly, and we were all talking and laughing as we
pushed through the doors into the dining car. The women sat by the
windows, and Tom and I by the aisle, but I found myself frequently
looking diagonally across the table at Jan, and she at me. It seemed
like Tom was also looking at Marsha a lot, but I was too busy looking
across the table to pay much attention to him, or to pay any attention
to where Marsha was looking.

For the life of me I can't remember much of what we said during that
meal, but I know that we told each other funny stories about our
marriages and families, and we teased each other a lot. I don't mean
cruel teasing, of course, just light teasing that led to lots of
laughs. One thing I do remember talking about was the tiny beds in the
roomette. I described climbing up on top and trying to twist myself end
for end with no room to sit up and no room to turn sideways. I expected
them to agree with my experience, but instead they surprised me by
bragging that they had gotten a larger room.

We were still laughing and toying with our desserts when we noticed our
waitress starting to hover, and ask repeatedly if there was anything
else she could get us. We finally realized that they were hoping to
reuse the table for late diners, so got up with apologies to the
waitress.

"Hey," Tom said, "why don't you two come on up front and see how much
bigger our bedroom is."

Marsha and I quickly agreed. I, for one, was in favor of anything that
would keep us together for a while longer. They led the way to the
front half of the car we were staying in, which was set up very
differently from the back half. In the back the aisle ran down the
middle of the car, with roomettes on each side. In the front the aisle
ran along the windows with rooms on one side only. We expected them to
stop at one of those rooms, but they kept going, cutting back to the
middle at the very front of the car so they could push through doors
into another sleeper car. This one was set up the same, with roomettes
at the back and larger rooms in front. No wonder it had taken them a
while to join us before dinner!

Was I ever impressed when they motioned us into their room! It had a
large sofa on one side of their picture windows and an armchair on the
other. Beside the armchair was a wash basin and an enclosure that
turned out to be a toilet and a shower! The sofa was easily big enough
to seat three and Tom motioned me to sit there. I slid to the window
end and Marsha sat next to me. I expected Jan to sit next to Marsha,
but Tom sat in the armchair and patted his lap. Jan grinned and
snuggled up against him.

We started chatting again, but kept being distracted by some very noisy
neighbors down the hall. Tom whispered in Jan's ear, and she jumped up
to close the sliding door. Poof! Noises gone instantly. While she was
up, Jan pulled the curtain across the door, to point out how light and
airy the room was even when totally closed off. Leaving it that way,
she sat down on Tom's lap again.

It came out, somewhere along the way in our conversation, that Jan and
I had both been working with community theatre groups, so we started
comparing our experiences.

Out of one ear, while really focused on what Jan was saying about
having had a couple of supporting actress roles in musicals, I heard
Marsha groan to Tom, "Oh, no, they're going to be talking about theatre
forever."

"It's a hopeless cause," Tom agreed, "but we're both teachers, so
wouldn't you rather talk about that?" I picked up a few phrases of
their subsequent conversation, as they enthusiastically shared
experiences with each other, but the truth is I was fascinated by what
Jan was saying.

"You're kidding!" I told her. "I love musicals. I've been in several,
but mostly chorus and minor roles."

"Did you ever dream that you could be a lead?" she asked.

"Dream? Yes, doesn't everybody, but even if I could do it, which I
can't, I'm too old for most leading roles."

"Not all of them. How about Fiddler on the Roof?"

"Oh, God, yes! Now there's a dream, to be Tevye."

Jan laughed. "I'll bet every middle-aged actor dreams of singing 'If I
Were a Rich Man.'"

"True, but even more, I'd love to sing 'Chaveleh.'"

"Oh, yes, it always make me cry. ... Ron ... when you play Tevye I want
to play Golde."

"Ummm, 'Sabbath Prayer' – One of the most beautiful pieces ever
written. Now that's what always makes me cry. Do you think we could get
through it together without breaking down?"

"I doubt it," she said, looking at me with tears glistening in her
eyes.

We stared at each other for a while without speaking, then Jan broke
the mood by turning to her husband and cutting into what he and Marsha
were saying.

"Hon, Ron and I would like to go get some cokes. Would that be OK with
you?" She turned back and winked at Marsha. "I'll bet he's going to
find it a lot easier to talk to you if he doesn't have to crane his
neck around me to even see you."

Jan and I hadn't said a word about getting drinks, but the moment she
mentioned it I thought it was a great idea. I turned to look at Marsha,
who was blushing, apparently from what Jan had said.

"You don't mind, do you," I asked her. "We'll just be gone a minute."

"No, I, ... no, of course, ... that ... that would be fine," she
finally got out.

"Can you bring us a couple, too, while you're at it?" Tom asked.

Jan had stood up by now, and was pulling the curtain away from the door
as I nodded to Tom and told him we would. She ducked behind the curtain
and slid the door open, then held the curtain while I also ducked
behind it. That seemed like an odd way to do things, and I wondered why
she didn't just open the curtain, but I didn't say anything. Once we
were out in the aisle she also slid the door shut, pointing her thumb
at the still noisy neighbors.

After we made our way down to the middle of the sleeper car, Jan leaned
close to me and whispered, "Wanna know a secret? I'll bet that before
we get back Tom and Marsha are going to be doing more than talking."

I looked at her with shock and concern. I realized for the first time
that we had two sleeper cars to go through, then the dining car, then
to the middle of the club car, and finally down the stairs there to get
to the soda stand. We were going to be gone a lot longer than the
minute I had promised Marsha.

"No! ... You mean he might try to put the make on her? ... This is
terrible! We should go back, Jan. She would never let him do anything,
but it could get awkward."

"Don't worry, Tom won't try to pressure her."

With that, she left my brain whirling and continued back through the
car. I caught up with her as she was going through the doors into the
next sleeper.

"Are you trying to suggest that she is going to come on to him?"

Jan shook her head. "It's too noisy to talk here," she said, and indeed
the sounds of the wheels on the tracks echoed loudly through the
accordion material where the cars were joined together.

We walked on back to the middle of that sleeper, where there was an
open area, and the staircase leading down. Then she turned and looked
at me.

"Look, you couldn't see it from where you were sitting beside her, but
she was getting stars in her eyes while they were talking."

"You're crazy," I blurted out. "We've been married twenty-seven years,
and she has never shown the least sign of ..."

"There's always a first time. But let's not talk about them. I want to
talk about us; that's why I suggested we go get the cokes."

"What do you mean, talk about us?"

"Well, like, for example, the way my heart was going thump, thump,
thump, every time I looked at you, or the stars I saw in your eyes when
you looked at me."

"Jan, stop that!"

"Why? We can't deny it, either one of us. Here, follow me."

She ducked down the narrow stairway that twisted its way to the lower
floor. At the first landing she turned to face me, wrapped her arms
around my neck, and pulled her body against me as she gave me a quick
kiss.

"I've been dying to do that for the last hour. Now it's your turn. Show
me how you would like to kiss me."

"Oh, God, Jan," I moaned as my arms went around her waist and my mouth
reached out to hers. The kiss lasted a long time.

Suddenly I pulled away. "We've got to go, or they'll be wondering why
it's taking us so long."

Jan laughed. "I seriously doubt that. If I'm right, and they're not
just talking, they are going to lose all track of time. And if you're
right, they'll be enjoying their talk so much that they won't care how
long we take, especially if we tell them we got involved in a
discussion ourselves."

Staring into my eyes, she added, "Of course, we won't tell them the
details of our discussion."

With that, Jan melted into my arms again.

We did finally separate, only to have her grin slyly and ask, "So what
was that hard thing I was feeling rubbing against my belly?"

I blushed bright red, then turned and started up the steps without
answering. When I got to the top, though, I stepped back to let her
pass, and said, "I think I'll follow you, if you don't mind."

With a broad grin, Jan said, "I don't mind a bit. You can follow as
close as you want; the closer the better."

I did try to leave a few inches between us as we swayed our way past
the open roomettes. When we got to the doors where the cars were
joined, I 'accidentally' bumped into her, and she wiggled her ass
against my hard-on. She seemed to be having trouble getting the door
into the next car to open, so the contact lasted longer than it really
should have.

Then we swayed our way though the nearly empty dining car, maintaining
a proper distance between us, only to find she had even more trouble,
and we had even more contact, getting through the doors to the club
car.

The club car, or observation car, didn't really have any walls. It had
nearly continuous windows, end to end on both sides, starting about two
feet from the floor and arching up over our heads. The effect was like
riding on top of the train, but protected by a glass bubble. There were
little groups of seats on both sides, mostly facing out. None of these
seats were assigned to passengers; they were available to anyone, first
come, first served.

We had to behave in the club car. People were scattered all around,
looking in all directions. We couldn't even get away with anything
while we going down the narrow stairway to the refreshment stand,
because someone was waiting for us to get off the stairs so they could
come back up. Once downstairs we realized that the sodas came in cans
along with cups containing ice. We had all we could manage, juggling
four cans and four cups of ice as we drunkenly swayed our way back
through three cars to Tom and Jan's room.

Just before we got there, Jan turned and whispered, "Let's not barge in
on them; who knows, we might catch them ... well, let's just say they
might be embarrassed. Can you kind of knock on the door with your elbow
or something?"

I did, and Jan called, "Can you help us here? Our hands are very full."

We heard Tom's voice, "Just a minute."

As we waited, Jan mouthed, 'I told you so,' but it was actually much
less than a minute before the curtain was pulled back a bit and Tom's
head appeared through the window in the door. I saw him look quickly
over his shoulder, then slowly slide the door open.

"My god, you really are loaded down," he said, taking a cup from each
of us. "Marsha, get the table folded down so we have a place to put all
this stuff."

At that point I caught my first glimpse of Marsha, but only from the
back. She seemed to be trying to do something to her blouse with one
hand, while fighting the pullout table with the other. Both tasks
accomplished, she turned, and looked demurely down at the table as the
rest of us deposited cans and cups there. My eyes bugged out when I saw
that Marsha's blouse wasn't tucked in properly, but I held my tongue.
Jan had certainly been right, but I was in no position to accuse my
wife of anything.

This time Marsha sat down first, scooting to the window end of the
sofa. I sat down next to her, and Tom sat in the armchair again. Jan
gave me a wink and sat down next to me. I glanced quickly at Marsha to
see how she would take that, but she was giving Tom her rapt attention.

We told each other additional bits of our life stories while we drank
the sodas. The feel of Jan's body touching me was driving me crazy, but
I tried not to talk directly to her. I did watch Tom, and saw his eyes
going repeatedly to Marsha, but he also seemed to be trying not to talk
specifically to her. His efforts and mine kept us from breaking up into
separate conversations this time, but I could sure feel the sexual
tension.

Once the sodas were gone, Tom changed the subject. "Look, I feel a bit
awkward bringing this up, but Marsha and I were starting a serious
discussion while you two were getting the cokes, and I wonder if there
is some way we could continue it."

He looked at me, and then at Marsha. "I know Marsha wouldn't want to
discuss it in front of you guys, so I was wondering if ... well, if you
guys would mind if she and I went for a little walk somewhere. You
would like that, Marsha, wouldn't you?"

I heard a quiet little gasp from Marsha, and she didn't say anything,
but I looked her direction and saw she was nodding her head slowly
while biting her lip. Marsha saw me looking her way and gave me a quick
look, almost a scared and guilty look, but I just smiled at her and
nodded.

"Sure, it's OK with me," I managed to get out. My brain was boiling
with thoughts of what Jan and I might be doing while they were gone.

Tom looked across at his wife on the sofa. "Jan, is it OK with you?"

"Of course," Jan bubbled, "and don't worry about Ron and me. I'm sure
we can find lots to talk about while you're gone."

Tom stood up and reached across the little table for Marsha's hand,
pulling her to her feet. She slipped out past my knees and stood close
to him.

"It may take us a while to work this out, and I don't know where we'll
be, but if possible I'd like to find some place where we don't have too
many distractions. Don't worry, though," he added with a grin, looking
down at Jan and me who were still sitting side by side, "we can't get
lost, and we promise not to get off the train."

I glanced up at Marsha, to see how she was reacting to Jan and me
sitting together, but her eyes were only on Tom. He put his hand on her
arm and started to pull her to the door, but then turned.

"I know what we can do. When we get through talking, we'll go back to
the club car. Any time you two want to, you can go there too. Let's
see, ... it's twenty minutes after eight right now. How about if we
agree to meet there no later than nine?"

Jan and I both nodded, Tom slid the curtain and door open, and they
left.

As soon as they had disappeared down the aisle, Jan got up, slid the
door closed, and pulled the curtain for privacy. "You do know why he's
doing this, don't you?" she asked me.

"Well," I stammered, "I, I guess he wants to continue what they were
doing earlier."

"True, but there's something else, too. I knew as soon as we got back
with the cokes that he had figured out what you and I were doing. He
actually gave me a little wink to show me he knew. Then," she giggled,
"I gave him a little wink back."

She gave me a long look before she went on. "You may find this hard to
believe, but I think he wanted to give us some time here alone, the way
he had with Marsha."

"Jan," I shuddered, "I don't think it's a good idea for us to stay
here. It's too private."

"I disagree," Jan said, sliding back in next to me on the sofa and
pressing her chest against my arm. "It's private enough for this,"
punctuated by a passionate kiss, "but the room isn't set up quite right
for what we're really going to do."

"No! We mustn't!"

"Oh, but we must, and we will. Besides, think about it a minute. Where
do you suppose Tom and Marsha are going to go to find a quiet place?"

I shook my head, puzzled.

"Your roomette, silly."

I looked at her in shock. "No, they wouldn't!"

"Oh, yes, I promise you, they will. So, what now, big boy? Are you
still saying we mustn't do what you know we are going to do?"

"You don't mean they're going to ..."

"I don't know for sure how far they'll go, but I do know what I saw in
Marsha's face, and you know what you saw in Marsha's face. We both know
she really, really, wants to."

Jan stopped and looked at me a moment before going on. "I also know you
really, really, want to, and I know I want it as much as you do. Now,
let's find the porter and get him to set this room up for the night."

"I, I don't think so. Look at me. I can't go out in public like this."

Jan looked down at my crotch and grinned. "OK, I'll go find the porter.
You see if you can calm down a bit."

I really hadn't calmed down when Jan got back with the porter, but I
was able to hide my problem by standing close behind her just outside
the room while he put down the beds. The mattress for the lower bunk
was stowed with the upper bunk, and both mattresses already had bedding
on them, so it didn't take him long.

When the porter stepped aside and let us enter the room, I could see
the real difference that a full bedroom made over a roomette. Here the
lower bunk ran across the room, rather than along the outside wall, and
it was much bigger than an army cot, at least as big as a standard twin
bed.

"Have a pleasant night," the porter wished us as he started away.

Jan slid the door closed, and made sure the curtain covered it. Then
she stepped up to me, wrapping one arm around my neck and slipping her
other hand down my belly.

"Pleasant doesn't begin to describe the time we are going to have," she
moaned. "I can't wait to feel what this thing can do to me."

"Much more of that," I groaned, "and all it's going to do is spurt in
my pants."

"Oh dear, that wouldn't do," she agreed as she squatted in front of me.
"Let's get them off quickly."

"Oh, God, Jan," I gasped as she started sliding my pants and under
shorts down. "I don't think I have ever wanted anything so much!"

"Yum," she said as she exposed my jerking cock. "I'd love to kiss it,
but I'm afraid it would blow if I did."

"Damn right it would! Get your pants off and your ass on the bed before
I blow in midair."

"You know, on second thought I don't think you can make it as far as
the bed, so we're going to start this way."

With that she leaned forward and took me in her mouth.

"YESSSS!" I screamed, and suddenly I was coming. She swallowed it all.

It took a while before I could speak after that, but when I could I
realized I was still hard, so I repeated my earlier demand. "Now, you
greedy cum slut, like I said before, get your goddamn pants off and
your fucking ass on the bed."

"Yes, master," she said, pushing her pants and panties quickly down her
legs. "I'm so ready," she added, throwing herself on the bed and
pulling her knees up to her tits.

I took one quick look at the juicy cunt she exposed to me, and landed
on top of her with a roar. She had to grab my wildly thrusting cock and
point it the right place, but then I slammed it home in a single
thrust.

My brain knew that I had just come and wouldn't be able to come again
very soon, but my cock and my pelvis didn't seem to understand that.
Neither did her cunt. She hadn't been putting me on about being ready.
My cock slid in like a hot knife through butter, but the way she
clamped down on it I wasn't sure I was ever going to get it back out. I
kept slamming my pubic bone against her clit, but I wasn't going to be
able to move more than about half an inch unless I wanted to rip my
manhood out by the root.

What I was doing seemed to be just fine with her. Her arms and legs
were holding me in a vise grip, her face was red, her eyes were bulging
out, and her mouth was open as if she was screaming, but no sound was
coming out. She wasn't even breathing, and I started getting scared. I
got scared enough that I stopped moving and just stared at her. Still
she lay there in a frozen rigor mortis.

"Jan," I said in a panic, "Jan, are you OK?"

That started her cunt fluttering, and her throat relaxed enough that
she could let out a kind of gargled growl, but her arms and legs were
still squeezing the life out of me, and she was still not breathing.
Then the flutters I was feeling on my cock morphed into huge waves, and
her chest started pumping up and down.

Finally she was able to focus on me, and whimper, "Oh, God, I thought I
was going to die!"

"I did too. I was so scared!"

She started humping up against me. "I want to feel that again. Please
make me feel that again."

The waves were still coming, and I lost it totally. I didn't care if it
killed us both, I had to make her come like that again. This time I had
to come when she did. If it was the last thing I did on earth, I needed
to stuff her full of my cream. I needed to put it all the way up inside
her. All the way ... all the way ... ALL THE WAY ... ALLLLL!

YESSS! There she was again. And I was pumping, pumping, pumping. She
didn't move a muscle until I stopped squirting, then we both went
totally limp. I rolled off of her and my wilting cock popped out. She
moaned, but didn't move. I couldn't move, and I don't suppose she could
either.

We lay there gasping for a long time, until I finally felt like I had
enough energy to turn my head and look at her. I watched her cheeks
puff out as she panted. Somehow her face was all I wanted to look at.
Her face, and her eyes. At long last she turned to look at me, and our
eyes met.

"Oh, Ron," she breathed, and then our mouths met.

It wasn't a passionate kiss, or a friendly kiss, or a terribly intimate
kiss. It was a tender thank-you kiss, a kiss in which we told each
other that the gift we had just gotten was wonderful beyond words. But
it was a kiss that kept saying that over and over again as if there was
no way to say enough times how grateful we were.

We were still kissing when the conductor's PA announcement jolted us
out of our shared bliss. "Elko, next stop Elko. Elko, Nevada."

"Oh, no, what time is it," I asked.

"I don't know, let me turn on a light so you can see your watch."

"Oh, my God, it's ten after nine."

We rolled out of bed and frantically pulled on our clothes. I think we
must have been dressed and out the door in about thirty seconds.

As Jan and I made our way back toward the club car we had to pass the
roomette. My roomette; or rather the roomette that my wife and I were
supposed to be sharing. Had Marsha been there? With Tom? I felt a knot
in my stomach as we got closer. What if they were still there now? And
what had they been doing while they were in there?

Soon I could see the door. It was open! I glanced in as we passed, and
my heart soared. There were two seats, not a bed. Not a bed, like there
was in the room Jan and I had just left. Tom and Marsha must not have
been having sex in that room; and if not there, then nowhere. My wife
was still faithful to me!

Then my heart crashed in an instant. Faithful, unlike her cheating
husband. What have I done? I've destroyed our marriage. Twenty-seven
years, and I've thrown it away for thirty minutes of passion.

I didn't bump into Jan this time when she paused, pretending to have
trouble opening the door into the dining car. I didn't even walk close
to her as we made our way past the empty dining car tables. I wasn't
anywhere near when she opened the door into the club car.

As soon as I got through that door I started scanning for Marsha. There
she was, sitting with Tom in a little quarter-circle group of four
seats that looked out through the glass wall onto the moonlit scrub
brush desert passing by below. They were sitting very close together,
too close. She was leaning against him, her body was pressed against
his arm, and seemed to be whispering into his ear. No, not his ear; her
mouth was on his neck. She was kissing his neck! We were close to them
now, and they hadn't seen us yet. I looked down and saw his hand
stroking her thigh. Her hand was resting on his thigh, very high up,
almost touching his ... cock. With his other hand he tilted her chin
up, and they kissed.

We joined them, sitting in the other two seats, and they jerked apart
suddenly. There was an awkward silence. Jan had sat next to Marsha, and
I had taken the end seat in the group. Marsha was looking down in
embarrassment. Tom was looking across at me with a bit of a smile
twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"You're late," Tom finally said.

"Yes," Jan apologized, "I guess we lost track of the time."

"It's OK," he said, "we've been enjoying the night sky."

Jan leaned forward and looked at her husband. "It looked to me like you
were enjoying each other more than the sky."

A sob caught in Marsha's throat, and she covered her face with her
hands. Jan reached over and pulled Marsha's hands away from her face.

"Hey, don't worry, we're not mad at you. I was just teasing Tom a bit."

"But I was kissing him! I shouldn't have been doing that."

"Look, if it makes you feel any better, Ron and I have been kissing,
too."

Marsha's eyes went wide as she looked at Jan. "You were? ... But ...
but that's not all. I mean, that is all, but that isn't the only way we
were kissing."

"So you mean he kissed you other places?"

"Yes," she shuddered, "lots of places. Oh, I'm so sorry, Jan, I've been
very bad!"

"Oh? It sounds to me like Tom was the naughty one, not you, unless you
kissed him lots of places, too."

"No, ... yes, ... no, ... I mean, ... I kissed him some places, but not
... every place."

"But he kissed you every place, hmmm?"

"Yesss, ... but it's not his fault, because I wanted him to. I asked
him to. Oh, I've been so bad, so bad."

"Did he make you feel bad, or did he make you feel good?"

"Oh, he made me feel so good, sooo goood!"

"Did you make him feel good, too?"

"No, ... but I wanted to, I wanted to so much. But we ran out of time."

"Listen to me, honey. Ron made me feel good, too. So very, very, good.
And I made him feel good. I made him feel VERY good."

"Oh, I wish we'd had more time. I wanted to make Tom feel good. I
wanted to make him feel VERY good."

"Marsha, baby," Tom put in, "I want to be with you some more. I want us
to make each other feel so VERY good."

"Oh, yes, YES, I want that so! But ... but ... we can't. We're not ...
Oh Tom! ... but Ron and Jan are right here."

"Ron and I wouldn't mind," Jan assured her. "Ron and I want more time,
too, to make each other feel VERY good. Don't we, Ron?"

"God, YES," I exclaimed.

Listening to Marsha and Jan talk had been getting me hotter and hotter.
The guilt was all gone, the doubts had evaporated, the jealousy had
disappeared. I wanted my wife to get fucked better than she had ever
been fucked in her life. I wanted to fuck Jan again, to fuck and fuck
and never stop.

"So," Tom summed up, "Ron and Jan want to spend more time together, and
Marsha and I want to spend more time together. Tell me, Marsha, do you
care what Tom and Jan do, so long as you can be with me?"

"No, ... I don't care what they do. ... I just need to be with you."

Tom turned to me. "What about you, Ron? If you can be with Jan, do you
care what Marsha and I are doing at the same time?"

"Hell, no!" I burst out.

"Same here," he nodded. "You guys can do anything you want, so long as
I can be with Marsha, doing anything we want. ... Jan, do you have a
problem with that?"

"FUCK NO! Let's get the show on the road."

It was finally out in the open. No more beating around the bush.

"Oh, yeah!" Tom finished. "I want to spend the WHOLE NIGHT fucking
Marsha. Ron and Jan, we're going to give you just one minute to get
your asses out of here, because you've got farther to go before you can
start fucking again."

With that Jan and I jumped up, and made our way back to her room as
quickly as we could without attracting attention. It wasn't until days
later that I started wondering how much attention our conversation in
the club car might have attracted; at that point I couldn't care less.
We did have to pause for a moment as the porter backed out of Marsha's
room, having made it into beds. Was I jealous? No way! My eyes were on
Jan's ass, my head was echoing 'whole night,' and my cock was dying to
be in her cunt again. My heart actually felt a flutter of happiness
that everything would be ready for Tom and Marsha when they got there.

Oh, FUCK! What a night that was. The woman was insatiable, and I felt
like I'd popped about three Viagra pills. I can attest that is possible
for two lovers on a twin-size bed to get some sleep with limbs tangled
together, but most of the time we didn't feel like sleeping.

We did sleep in the morning, waking up only when we heard the last call
for breakfast. We decided to ignore it, getting in one more fuck before
falling back to sleep. The first lunch call woke us again, and our
stomachs told us we weren't going to ignore this one.

We both made good use of the private in-room toilet, shower, and sink,
and Jan tried to get her hair and face halfway presentable. She started
giggling when I came out of the shower, and I looked down at my
semi-erect cock.

"What? You didn't think it looked funny last night."

"It was a little bigger and a lot harder last night, but that isn't why
I was laughing. I was thinking, 'Poor Tom.' He paid for this room, and
he's having to use shared facilities down the hall."

"Ah, but I seem to remember," I pointed out, "that he was the one who
told us to go to the bedroom farthest away, so he has no one to blame
but himself."

We stayed naked as long as possible, putting our clothes on just before
leaving the room. I guess we both felt this might be the end of our
affair; that we might never be naked together again.

As we passed by Marsha's roomette (funny how I didn't think of it as
our roomette any more) we saw that the door was tightly closed and the
curtain drawn. I wondered idly what might be happening in there just
then.

When we got to the dining car we were seated with another couple, who
assumed, of course, that we were married. I got a kick out of that, and
we didn't disabuse them, but we kept basically to ourselves, sharing
first names and making a bit of polite conversation, nothing more. We
both settled on what appeared to be the most filling item on the lunch
menu – a cheeseburger with fries, milk (no milkshake, sadly), and ice
cream for dessert. I had a feeling I was going need all the energy I
could get.

The door was still closed as we passed the roomette on the way back,
and I almost thought I heard Marsha squealing, but it might have been
my imagination. We hurried on back to 'our' bedroom but discovered it
had been turned back into a day room while we were eating.

I was a bit dismayed, but Jan told me not to worry as she latched the
door and closed the curtain. She started to close the curtain across
the outside window, but paused.

"Unless you'd rather look at the Rockies than at me," she said.

I gave her a devilish grin. "I can see the Rockies any time. You know I
want to look at you."

"All right, then, you ready for a strip tease?"

"Damn straight!" My cock was definitely straight, and ready for a lot
more than that.

"OK, you take off your clothes first, and sit on the sofa, then I'll
take mine off."

I had mine off in a flash, but she took her time, doing a seductive
dance to music inside her head. By the time she got down to her panties
and was playing with her tits, my ass was humping up and down and she
had to warn me not to touch myself.

At that point she turned her back on me and wiggled her hips as she
slowly worked her panties off her ass. She kept backing closer and
closer to me, and once again she had to warn me not to touch as I
reached for her cheeks. Then her ass was shaking back and forth big
time as she let her panties slip down her legs, and stepped out of
them.

Suddenly she swiveled and stepped forward against the sofa, with her
knees wrapped around mine. She grabbed her pussy lips, spreading them
with her fingers. "Now touch!" she commanded.

My hand shot out to touch the shiny inner lips she was presenting to
me. God, but she was slimy! I had to slip my finger inside, I just had
to!

"Oh, YES," she moaned, "another one."

Who was I to object? Now I was pumping two fingers in and out of her
cunt.

"One more, PLEASE!"

Her ass was pumping back and forth and she was squealing as I fucked
her as deep as possible with three fingers.

"NOW KISS ME!" she yelped as her fingers exposed the clit she wanted me
to kiss.

I leaned forward and took it in my mouth. A couple of flicks with my
tongue and she was gone. I could feel her cunt pulsing against my
fingers. I could smell her secretions flooding out. I could see her
entire body shuddering with the intensity of her climax.

By some miracle I didn't come when she did. That didn't last long,
though. As soon as she could control her movements she pushed my face
away from her, pulled my hand out of her cunt, and knelt on the sofa
with a knee on each side of me. Then she slowly, slowly, lowered
herself onto my cock. Oh, YES, YES, that felt SO GOOD! There's no way I
can ... AHHH ... so deep! YES! I feel her cervix!   OHHHH FUUUUCK!!!
We were both coming like we hadn't had any for weeks.

I swear, if she had had any eggs in there she would have had triplets.
I was pumping cum directly into her ovaries. Millions of little
wigglers were in there searching, but there was nothing for them to
find. That's the problem with fucking a post-menopausal woman. All
those frustrated sperm with no target to penetrate. My cock had sure
done its part though, and Jan's cervix had greeted it with open arms.
As long as I live I will never forget that fuck.

We spent the entire afternoon naked in that room, and not once did we
hear any tapping on the door as if Marsha and Tom wanted to interrupt
us. We found all sorts of positions we could fuck in, on the sofa, on
the arm chair, even standing up against the wall. But wild as we were
for each other, there finally came a time when Jan could no longer suck
me hard, and I could no longer get any reaction from her overworked
pussy. The last hour we just sat, and dozed, in each others' arms.

When the first dinner call came we kissed and dressed, then walked back
to Marsha's roomette. She and Tom were standing there, waiting for us.
We all knew that we were scheduled to arrive in Denver before 8 PM.

One last time we sat together for dinner, this time with Marsha beside
Tom and Jan beside me. We didn't seem to have a lot to say to each
other. We mostly just touched our lovers below the table and kissed
hungrily between bites of food.

When dinner was over, I slid out and stepped back to let Jan out, then
signaled to Tom to follow her. Marsha and I followed them, stopping at
the roomette. We stood there and watched as Jan and Tom went on
forward. They turned when they got to the bigger bedrooms, looked back
at us, and then disappeared into the aisle at the side of the train.
That was the last time we ever saw them.

Marsha and I set about putting our things together without a word. The
Denver stop was soon called, and we made our way downstairs, then left
the train when it stopped. Marsha's brother was there, and helped us
with our checked luggage. He remarked that we seemed awfully quiet, but
we just said we were tired. He offered to put us up for the night, but
we insisted we wanted to get home. Our Colorado Springs home is only an
hour and a half from her brother's home, but it seemed much farther
than that. The whole way we still said nothing.

Once home, we each made a quick stop in the bathroom and then crawled
into our bed. I rolled over toward her and stroked her arm.

"No, please, don't touch me. I feel dirty."

"OK, good night," I said as I rolled back to my side of the bed.

"Good night."

Some time in the middle of the night I woke up feeling amorous, and
rolled over against her. She was asleep with her back to me. I pressed
my hard-on against her ass, and reached around her waist, but she
didn't respond. Then I slid my hand up her belly to her breast, and
started stroking it through her nightgown.

"Ummmm," she said in her sleep.

I started kissing the back of her neck and her shoulder as I played
with her tits, rubbing her nipples between my thumb and finger. Soon I
could hear her breathing speed up, and her ass started making little
back and forth motions.

All at once she scooted away from me a bit, and I thought that was
that, but she rolled up against me, on her back, and grabbed my wrist.
"Uh, huh," she said, pulling my hand down to her belly. "Yesss," she
said, pushing my hand lower, onto her mound.

I slid my hand down her thigh to her knees and pulled up on her
nightgown enough to get my hand inside it. Then I started sliding my
hand up the inside of her thigh.

"Oh, YES!" she gasped, jerking her legs apart.

Soon I was rubbing her pussy through her panties, which were wet. I
could feel the heat rising up through the silk material.

She started humping up against my hand. "I WANT IT!" she pleaded, and
reached to push her panties down.

I worked them down her legs to her knees, and she kicked them off. "I
need it so bad! GIVE it to me," she demanded. "NOW!"

I was sleeping in my underwear, but I quickly slipped my shorts off and
rolled on top of her.

"YES!" she said hoarsely, grabbing my cock and positioning it. "YES!"
she said again as I shoved it up her juicy cunt. "YES! ... YES, TOM,
... YES!"

That stopped me cold, and I almost lost my erection. She thought she
was fucking Tom, not me.

"Don't stop, don't stop," she wailed. "Give it to me!"

Fuck it! I don't care who she thinks she's fucking. I need to fuck so
bad. I want Jan, but I'll take whoever. I started pounding into her
cunt, hard and fast.

"YES, ... YES, ... YES, YES, YES, Yes,Yes,Yes, I'm COMMMM ..." she
screamed as her cunt clamped down on me and started vibrating.

'Damn, she's hot,' I thought as I gave her a minute to calm down.

"More, ... more, ... MORE!" she moaned when she could speak again.

This time she started wailing as soon as I started pumping again, and
her wail rose up through two octaves to a screech as I roared and let
loose inside her.

God! We hadn't had sex like this for years! We did still fuck, now and
then, a few times a month, but she rarely had an orgasm when we did. I
couldn't remember any time when she had had two! And here she was
moaning and rubbing against me like even two wasn't enough.

"Oh, YES, Ron, that was SO GOOD!"

Well, at least she knew who she was fucking, now. "Would you like a
little more?"

"Could you? Oh, FUCK, I want it so much!"

What the hell? I'd never, in our entire life, ever heard her say that
word. Now here she was, swearing and humping up against me. I wasn't
sure how much more I could do, but I still seemed to be reasonably hard
and I was willing to give it a try.

It did take me a while, but I finally came again. The truly astounding
part is that she came twice more before I did! After I finished she
relaxed and was soon asleep again.

I lay awake thinking about what had happened – tonight, and last night,
and the day in between. And then I thought about what our future might
hold. Would she find other Toms to be with? Would I find other Jans?
Not likely here in Colorado Springs. We knew too many people, and word
would get around. Besides, this has got to be one of the most
conservative, uptight, bible pounding, cities in the country.

So what would happen between us? Would Marsha and I go on, night after
night, for the rest of our lives, the way we did tonight? Would we
climax in each other's arms while remembering the one fantastic night
and day we had had in another lover's arms? I knew that was a
ridiculous fantasy. Our passion for each other would fade over time, as
it had earlier in our marriage. It would fade, unless it was renewed.

Perhaps we could plan on another train trip next year. Oh, yes, that
would be good! Would Marsha think that was good? Or would it frighten
her? I wasn't sure Marsha and I would ever be able to really talk about
what happened yesterday. I doubted seriously if we could talk about
what might happen again if we were to take another train trip.

Whatever I do, I mustn't hit her with the idea right away. But somehow
I knew that if I let this trip settle first, then she would like to go
again. Even though she wouldn't be able to talk to me about her
feelings, I suspected she would feel the same tingle of anticipation
that I was already feeling. It was the tingle of the naughty feeling of
what just possibly might happen, even though it probably wouldn't.

As I started to slip into dreamland, one corner of my mind replayed
snatches of the ecstasy I had felt with Jan. Then from another corner
came an imagined scene of Marsha with Tom. He was on top of her in the
little roomette, pounding into her the way I had just a few minutes
ago. It wasn't a jealous thought, because it was superimposed with the
real memory of me pounding into Jan. A bit later I saw Jan and me with
our arms and legs tangled together as we drifted off to sleep.

I tried to picture Marsha and Tom drifting into sleep, and couldn't.
There was something wrong. What was it? The problem woke me up again,
and I finally figured it out. That tiny bed was too narrow for them to
sleep together on. It was wide enough to fuck on, if one of them was on
top of the other, but not wide enough for two people side by side. What
had Tom and Marsha done about sleeping? Maybe they didn't sleep; but
just kept fucking all night. No, they must have slept sometime.

Poor Tom. I imagined him crawling up onto that top shelf, and balancing
himself there so he didn't crash to the floor while he slept. It would
have been a restless night, and he probably crawled back down to waken
Marsha and lie with her every two or three hours. I'll bet she enjoyed
that part, anyway. In fact, I'll bet that's why she said 'YES, TOM,
YES' when I woke her tonight.

But it would have been so much nicer if they could have really slept
together the way Jan and I did. Next time I'll definitely pay the extra
bucks to get a full-sized bedroom. Oh, yes, she'll love that, and so
will the guy she is sleeping with, whoever that may be.