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From: cmndr@nym.alias.net (Commander Jameson)
Subject: RP: "Union Station" by Anonymous (MF, inc)
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Subject: Union Station (inc)
From: nobody@REPLAY.COM (Anonymous)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Date: 21 Mar 1998 21:17:13 +0100
Message-ID: <6f1789$k4e@basement.replay.com>
--------

What follows is absolute unadulterated fiction.
I wrote it a few years ago, during a period intense
personal growth. I hope someone likes it. 

by Mr. Unknown




				Union Station

The meeting was prosaic and metaphorical.

It was Tuesday night, late;  there was almost no one around.

He was tired.  He got on the train and as he looked up, he saw her, 
looking at him.  

Her gaze was direct, pointed and yet, very open.  And it hit him 
like a ton of bricks.

(Just when he thought it was safe to wander home.)

He became a mass of giddy emotions.  He was instantly a mess and he knew,
they both knew...

She smiled; she was a bit older, thin and attractive.  
Her bust moved easily under her light top, 
as she comfortably walked across the isle to sit down beside him.  
There was a slight familiarity in the back of his mind 
which he could not place.

The terror was in his stomach, though,
and he could see her starting to perspire.

They were talking but it wasn't clear who was speaking or what was being said.
She took his hand (sweaty palms in the night,) and he felt blackness and fear.

The fear was his past and his future.  There was no question of trust,
in fact there was no question at all...

Shortly they were in her room.   It was warm, comfortable and womanly.  
There was a beautiful big brass bed with fresh pillows everywhere 
and the faint smell of incense.

The fear had subsided somewhat, but it was waiting.

A shower was suggested and agreed to.  
She went into the bathroom and got the water going.
As she returned she was already getting out of her jump suit.
She was down to her underwear and that light top, 
before he really had a chance to start undressing himself.  

Her body was beautiful and mature with pendulous breasts, a large bush 
and legs that looked as if they could use a bit more exercise.  
Her hair was up in a bun, and she laughed and squealed with delight
when he revealed his large erect penis.  He was about 25 pounds overweight 
and acutely aware of it.  

They had a quick toke before jumping under the hot water 
and he could just hear the radio playing some Pink Floyd.

It was fun, soaping each other down. They embraced a lot and she felt good.
Then she started to wash his rock hard penis and the breathing got heavier
and deeper.  The fear was back, he was rushing towards something...

It was panic!  He was thrusting deeper into her and she was screaming 
and moaning.  There was something tearing at his insides.  It was as though
a large cat was ripping his flesh.  He screamed but he could not hear 
himself.  At last; a bloody painful agony of ejaculation.



He was holding her up on his hips, she had her arms about his shoulders, 
her legs, around his waist and her back to the wall of the shower.  The water
was still going, the radio had stopped and his penis was still in her.  

And there was blood.  

He was sure she had bitten his shoulders, and he could see 
deep scratches in her back.  He clumsily let her down.  He was embarrassed
and did not want to look in her eyes.  The first sounds he could identify 
after she turned off the water, was her quiet sobbing.  

He was painfully drained and hurting, but he somehow reached out to her 
and she turned into him, sobbing into his chest.  The trust was implicit and
profound.  They sat, together, sobbing, dripping and bleeding.  
Holding each other.

His sister had returned.




-- CJ
I don't write any stories. I'm just a reader, and sometimes a reposter.


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