This is another “three word prompt” story, this one sourced not from the usual tag cloud, but from a random word generator (I was looking for more erotica sites to use, but most erotica sites don’t arrange their tag clouds by frequency, they go for alphabetical order and list the frequency after each one – so less chance of serendipitous combinations – boo!) The title is the three words that prompted the story. This story is probably as close to a “proper” romantic story style as I do, and I’m sort of pondering whether to try to expand it into a longer story with a relationship between the protagonists. But for now, it stands on its own (and I have far too many other writing projects that I should be doing anyway).
Rumour Valley Railway
Eloise pondered the name on the map while she waited for the train. It seemed apt, for everyone told her the same thing: “Rumour Valley is a strange place. Lots of stories come out of there.” No one seemed to remember what those stories were, just vague hints about suspicions and ruined reputations.
She wondered if they’d told the same stories to the navvies when they put in the railway all along the bottom of the valley, alongside the river flowing steadily towards a confluence with the vast flow of which it was a mere tributary. That confluence was marked by a thriving city, far larger than the market town of Harringby where Eloise spent most of her life, and somehow there was only that railway link. Almost all the folks of Harringby travelled the other direction for work, pleasure or shopping, to the old industrial city farther inland. The old superstitions wouldn’t die. Plenty of people took the train from one city to the other, and so far as Eloise knew, they didn’t worry about it. The legend only remained in Harringby, and the smaller village of Chidestone that was the other stop before the valley opened out into the ancient floodplain, now much higher and drier than the history books told it used to be. So, Chidestone residents went to the river, and Harringby to the factories, and ever it was so.
But the days of such determinism were gone, and a job interview and hope for the future took Eloise on the maligned rail route after all. And besides, it wasn’t as if any stories could be spread if she stayed in a train carriage the whole way, could it? Less than an hour to the terminus, what could possibly happen?
The train pulled up and disgorged its passengers onto the platform. Eloise waited until the platform cleared and hopped through the nearest carriage door, and looked for a place to sit.
At first, she thought the carriage was deserted. Regardless of the superstition, there would normally be a few people still on the train, those from the cities, for example. She looked from one end to the other, trying to decide whether she wanted to sit facing forwards or backwards, in the middle or at one end, by the window or on the aisle.
“Eloise! As I live and breathe! Is it really you?”
That voice! Memories stirred in an instant hearing him again. He must have been slumped in his seat and hidden from view, which was why she hadn’t seen him before. It was Peter Terrigate, a boy – no, a man, now, for sure – Eloise remembered from their school days, from the year above hers. She turned to look at him.
He was even more gorgeous than she remembered. That barrel chest had filled out, his muscles were now properly toned, and those deep, soft, brown eyes… Eloise recalled the crap teenage poetry she’d scrawled at the backs of her exercise books about this absolute dish of a man. He’d let his hair grow out so there was a slight air of a Bohemian fop, on top of the classical sports hero physique. It was all she could do not to drop her bag.
“Peter! I haven’t seen you in years!” Eloise exclaimed, to cover up her sudden wave of embarrassment.
“I haven’t been home since I left for uni. Somehow I figured you’d be long gone too, never thought I’d see anyone I knew from Harringby – but still have loads of fond memories. I guess I thought everyone else had forgotten me, though.”
“How could I? I, um, I had a huge crush on you, you know.”
“You did not, don’t fib! I was so awkward back then. Still am, come to think of it.”
“No, I really did. To be honest, when I heard you just now, I remembered some of the things I used to write about you…” Eloise trailed off as she felt her cheeks start to burn.
Peter reached out and hooked his finger, lifting her chin slightly with his knuckle so their eyes met again.
“You’ve gone a very pretty colour, Eloise. I might think some of those things were really, really dirty. Is that why you never said anything at the time?”
Eloise froze, torn between the embarrassment if she said yes and he laughed at her, or the lost opportunity if she lied, and it turned out he was okay with it. But the way he was touching her, the way he’d taken command with just one finger under her chin. She wanted, so badly, to say “yes”, to confess, and see where it led. So she did.
Oh God, he leaned in so close, close enough she could feel his hot breath on her cheek, feel his body heat close to her own chest. His voice sank to a murmur.
“Now, why would you tell me that, Eloise, unless you wanted to try out some of those dirty, dirty things with me, right now?”
The heat from her cheeks seemed to have overflowed to the rest of her body, and into his. She swallowed nervously, she could feel how much he meant it, how already his cock was stiffening in his trousers, nudging against her thigh. She ought to feel scared, but she just knew that if she told him “No”, he’d stop and leave her alone, or just go back to talking. Only that confidence allowed her to nod.
“But, what if someone sees?”
“We have the train to ourselves. We can do what we want. What you want. And I think you want to take down your undies and put them on the seat.”
Eyes wide and staring into his, Eloise hitched up the hem of her interview skirt on both sides and used her fingers to hook into her knickers at the hips. She bent her knees and eased the underwear down over her butt. Eventually, she had to break eye contact and bend at the waist, struggling to unhook the panties from her shallow heels. Without a word, she stood, reached out, and dropped them on the nearest seat. She looked for Peter’s expression again.
“Now I think you want to unzip my flies and pull my cock out.”
“Yes, sir,” Eloise said. It seemed like the right words. She gently guided him closer with her hands on his hips, then fumbled with his zipper for a second or two before she managed to ease it down. She bit her lip as she reached her fingers through the opening. Of course, she’d dreamed of what his cock would look and feel like, but she’d never imagined she would find out for real.
It felt stiff, thick, she could trace her thumb around the edge of the foreskin that was already peeling back as he became more erect. She’d never been with a man without wanting to explore every contour of his penis, each vein and ridge, and it was no different now. Her fingers stroked the length and girth from tip to base, and she revelled in the sensation of his cock changing, growing, in response. Only when she had touched every inch did she bring it out so she could look at the beautiful shaft in all its glory. It was thicker and longer than she had guessed, almost matching her most vigorous fantasies when she’d wanked as a teenager.
“Not a disappointment, I trust?” Peter asked.
“It’s huge, sir!” Eloise said. What she thought he wanted to hear, and true.
“I think you want me to fuck you with it, right now, don’t you?”
Oh God, did she? Her heart pounded in her chest and her cunt leaked arousal. The way he asked, he was letting her choose. If she said no, she could lose that cock forever. If she said yes, then…. what? It would be wrong – lewd, disgraceful, yes. She was on her way to a serious, important meeting, a job interview. The rational part of her mind put up every argument it could to make her turn him down, but her gut, her genitals, her sex drive, were in command.
“Yes, sir. I do.” Without him asking, she climbed up onto the seat, knelt with her rear towards him and her thighs spread, her arms resting on the chair back and her chin over the headrest. She reached back and hitched her skirt up around her waist, tucking it into its own waistband to leave her open and bare.
“Fuck me, please, Peter.”
He teased her, brushing his cockhead against her slit, making her rock back, hungry for it now she’d agreed and given herself to the lewdness and naughtiness. His hand, firm and controlling, pushed her back into place until he was ready. A soft tearing sound, a rubbery swish.
“Almost forgot something important there, sweetie,” Peter said. His cock felt different now – a condom. Eloise sighed happily that he’d thought of that precaution, though she wondered how come he’d had one ready. Forgetting or ignoring the hypocrisy thats he always carried one or two herself.
Then his hands were on her hips, his cock was pushing her open, her mouth open and moaning quietly at the utter deliciousness of the sensation as he filled her up.
“That feels so good, El. Oh, God, you’re so hot!” Peter eased his full length inside her.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Eloise gasped. “It feels amazing.”
Peter rocked his hips back and forth, Eloise responding with hers, listening to Peter’s groans and echoing them with her own higher-pitched moans and sighs. She’d never felt so turned on so quickly, it defied all her preconceptions about what she liked and wanted, her hangups about exposure, about, well, everything. But she was lost in the moment, riding Peter’s cock – riding Peter Terrigate’s cock – and loving every second, every sensation.
Peter’s left hand reached round her hip and he leaned over her, his chest resting against her back so he could reach all the way to her tiny, throbbing clit. The instant he touched it, she let out a shrill squeak at the ecstatic fire. He needed no further encouragement, and kept softly circling the nubbin with his fingertip.
Eloise closed her eyes, panting for breath as it felt like her whole chest was contracting in time to Peter’s touch, his thrusting cock, his heartbeat, his mind.
“Please,” she gasped, “Please make me come!”
She felt his right hand grip her hair as he redoubled his efforts. Somehow, that possessive, controlling gesture was what it took to drive Eloise to climax. She howled and screamed and writhed and bucked. Her body rode out her orgasm for an eternity packed into a few seconds, until she collapsed against the chair back, Peter still sliding his cock an and out of her.
“My turn now. I think you want to finish me with your mouth and swallow it all. It would be a shame to spoil that smart skirt of yours with my cum leaking from your pussy, after all.”
“But you’re wearing a condom, there wouldn’t be any-“
Peter interrupted. “I was quite clear about what you wanted to do, Eloise.”
Eloise gulped. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He was already pulling out.
She turned around and crouched as low as she could, bringing her face down to his crotch level, reaching back with her hands to hold the seat and keep her balance. She watched him carefully slide the condom off his cock, tie it off, and stuff it into her bag. He dropped his business card into he rbag after it, then turned to face her, wielding his cock like a weapon before him. Eloise blinked as it came too close for her eyes to focus on it, and nervously opened her mouth.
She groaned as Peter’s cock forced her to open her jaw even wider than she’d anticipated, then all sound was cut off apart from a muffled splutter – he was in her mouth and fucking her face. There was no doubt about who was doing what to whom in Eloise’s mind, blinking back the tears as she took his shaft right to the back of her throat, trying to tease him with her tongue. He was faster, more brutal, than in her cunt, and as disgraceful and debauched as it felt, it also felt right to let him use her like this. She wanted it. He wasn’t like the boyfriends she’d occasionally dallied with. He was something more powerful.
“I’m coming, El! Brace yourself, swallow everything!”
Panic seemed to flood Eloise’s system but there was nothing she could do about it now. She felt Peter’s cockshaft twitch and pulse, and suddenly he was giving a guttural cry, his hips slamming against her cheeks and his cock forced deep into her gullet, and hot, thick spunk flooding her. Her throat twitched and she gulped, fighting the sensation she was drowning by drinking everything she could. She still felt some of Peter’s semen dribble down her chin, making her sense of utter shame complete.
He pulled out a pack of wet wipes, and mopped her face, then used another to wipe her cunt dry, too.
“Wow. Thank you for fucking me. I can’t believe I said yes, I still can’t believe we actually did that.” Eloise gabbled as Peter helped her straighten herself out.
“Well, we did, and I’m glad.” Peter held her hips and pulled her close, placing a soft, lingering kiss on her lips.
“You know, I can still taste myself on you,” he told her, making her blush again.
The PA pinged. “The next station is Chidestone. Please make sure you have all your belongings before leaving the train.” Already, they could feel the train slowing down as it approached the platform.
“This is my stop,” said Peter. “Maybe I’ll see you again on the journey back…”
The train pulled to a halt, and Peter grabbed his bag, and skipped from the train. A dozen or so passengers scurried on and the train pulled away.
Eloise made her way to the toilet cubicle to redo her hair and makeup ready for her interview. In the mirror, she looked exactly like she’d just been thoroughly fucked by a handsome young man.
And she realised her panties were gone.
Of course, no one else had any proof of what had happened, but by the time she got home that evening, the rumours were all over Harringby and Chidestone.