“Fucking or Non-Fucking?” asked the lady behind the ticket counter.
“Fucking, please,” replied Alison confidently.
“First Class or Shit Class?”
“First, please.”
“Two-berth, four-berth, or seat?”
“Uh… what’s the difference?”
“Well, it’s a long journey, so frankly, if you’re planning on doing any fucking, I would avoid the seat carriages. You can just about give a blowjob, but there’s barely room to spread your legs. Are you travelling alone?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’d go for a four-berth fucker. More fun that way: you might get a nice little orgy going.”
“Okay, that sounds good. So, one ticket for the 10.30 Whiteshit Express to London, in a First Class four-berth fucker.”
“Would you like to pre-book any extras?”
“Like what?”
“Well, in First Class Fucking you can book a strap-on fuck from the conductor if you like.”
“Only strap-on? No real cocks?”
“Not on this service. They used to offer a choice of male or female fuckers in First Class, but in the past year they’ve gone for female conductors only. Austerity, I guess.”
“Well, maybe I’ll just wait and see. I can purchase a fuck on board, can’t I?”
“Oh, sure. And that way you can see who you’re sharing your compartment with before you pay for any extras.”
“Okay, I’ll do that. So how much is that?”
“One thousand three hundred and forty-four euros.”
“Here you are. Thanks a lot, you’ve been very helpful. Lick my pussy, ma’am.”
“Lick m’ pussy, young lady. Have a good trip.”
Alison gave the lady behind the counter an appreciative smile and tucked a stray strand of light brown hair behind her ear, before making her way through the crowds back towards the main station concourse. Slender, elegant and tall, with finely-crafted features and a slightly rounded nose, she wore a see-through light green chiffon dress which showed off her figure perfectly – especially her large, slightly jiggly, natural-looking breasts and puffy dome-shaped nipples. There was a spring in her step as she re-joined her mother by the ticket barrier.
“Well – my daughter the fucker! I’m so proud of you, you know,” said the older woman tenderly, as she gave her daughter a farewell embrace. “You’re such a fucking slut.” Their breasts gently squashed against each other through their clothing.
“Aw, you say such sweet things, Mommy.”
“Wait…” the older lady paused as she fished something out of her handbag, “I’ve bought you something as a going-away present.”
“Aw, Mommy, you shouldn’t have!” said Alison as she opened the modest little cloth bag her mother handed her, withdrawing a rosary, with its pattern of wooden beads arranged in decades, offset at the pendant end by a finely-crafted solid silver penis. “What a beautiful cock!” she exclaimed, admiring the handiwork, then hanging the rosary around her neck so that the silver penis dangled between her breasts.
“Well, I know you’re not as into religion as I am, baby, but it’s just to remind you.”
“Thank you, Mommy.”
“You pleasure me, pussy-pie,” said her mother with a smile.
“You pleasure me too, Mommy.”
“Hey, baby cunt, are you gonna get enough fucking on that train? It’s a long way.”
“Yeah, I hope I’m sharing a compartment with some big dicks – otherwise I’m gonna get real bored rubbing my clit all the way to London. Mind you, I’ve got plenty of pre-course reading on my list, just in case I get tired of jerking off!”
“And how likely is that?” remarked Alison’s mother, raising an eyebrow sceptically.
They laughed, kissed each other on the lips one last time, and parted, Alison turning at the ticket barrier to shout, over the din of the crowds, “EAT MY CUNT, MOMMY!” as her mother waved fondly.
The 10.30 Whiteshit Express from Cunthorpe to London was an impressive affair, with twelve gleaming white carriages lined up along the platform. Alison consulted her ticket: Carriage 11 (First Class, Fucking), Compartment 2, Berth 2, it said. Alison counted off the carriage numbers as she walked along the platform. Carriages One and Two were both marked Shit Class, Non-Fucking: most of the people boarding here seemed to be families with children. Three and Four were Shit Class, Fucking: through the windows Alison saw serried ranks of hard wooden benches. “Jesus, who’d want to fuck on those?” Alison muttered under her breath. “Get splinters in your cunt…”
It wasn’t until carriages Eleven and Twelve (“At last!) that Alison saw First Class, Fucking (Four-Berth Fuckers) emblazoned on the side of the rolling stock. And when she slid the door to Compartment Two open, her heart leapt. For there in Berth One was… well, the first thing she noticed was the cock: jet-black, proud, and about eight inches long, it stood pulsating in the fist of a young man who was intently watching a video on the compartment screen whilst stroking his member with measured but firm purpose. The video seemed to feature a skinny girl with bleached blond hair and bright red lipstick, getting fucked airtight by three men – but that did nothing to distract Alison from the real-life dick in Berth One. She had already exclaimed “Oh Jesus fucking Christ!” before she could stop herself, and the young man turned his head with a smile.
“Suck my cock,” he said with exquisite courtesy, and a formal nod.
“I think I will,” replied Alison before she could stop herself. “I mean, eat my cunt, sir,” she said, correcting her manners, “I mean, lick my pussy, I mean, oh fuck…” Her voice trailed off in embarrassment as she stared at the huge black dick.
The man smiled, still calm and courteous, “Have you never seen a black man before?”
“Uh, no, uh, not in real life: there aren’t any, uh… any black people here in Cunthorpe. Not since the Expulsion, I’m told. Or I guess there’s you now, but I mean, not many. At least I’ve never seen a… you know, a…”
“Real-life black cock?” said the man helpfully. Alison nodded wordlessly, transfixed by the huge ebony rod which stood upright, throbbing in its master’s palm. “Would you like to fuck it?” continued the stranger kindly. On the screen, the cocks in the blonde girl’s cunt and ass had now moved round to her face, and she was sucking all three in turn, leaving rings of red lipstick up and down their shafts.
“Fuck yeah!” she replied with almost girlish glee. You know, I’m a real good fuck. Actually, I’m going to London to study at the RAF… you know, the Royal Academy of Fucking?” Slowly, Alison felt the train begin to move; she steadied herself on the door-frame, still staring at the black dick in front of her.
“The RAF – wonderful! smiled the stranger. “So you want to be a fucker when you grow up?”
Alison was a bit embarrassed and annoyed at the implication that she wasn’t yet grown up, and, more to the point, was desperate to prove herself to this gorgeous young hunk. “Well, I won the prize for Best Assfucker in the North Cuntshire Fuck Championships last year. Honestly, sir, you don’t need to pay for a fuck from the conductor lady today. I can do that for you, for free!” On the screen, the three guys were beginning to stroke off onto the girl’s face, her lipstick smeared sluttishly over her cheeks and chin.
“Talk of the devil,” replied the young man, as the compartment door slid open and in came a dark-haired young lady in a conductor’s uniform, high heels clicking, and pushing a trolley piled high with a varied selection of dildos and vibrators. “Lick my pussy, sir; lick my pussy, ma’am. I’m Tracy, and I’m your customer fucker for this journey. Is either of you interested in hiring any toys for the journey? Or ordering any fuck-services?”
“I pre-ordered a blowjob,” said the man.
“Oh yes, Mister Daniels, isn’t it?” said Tracy, checking her manifest. “Would you mind waiting about half an hour, sir? I’ve got a lesbian threesome in Compartment One; but daisy-chains work better with four, so I need to go and eat cunt with them first. Then I’ll do your blowjob. Then I get on to the really messy shit. The guys in Compartment Three want a bukkake. And the guys in Four have pre-paid for an anal gangbang, and have ordered ten cans of whipped cream as well!” On the screen the three cocks were now squirting thick ropes of hot cum onto the skinny blonde’s delighted face. “So, I’ll be back shortly: hope that’s okay? Oh, by the way, there’s no one else booked into this compartment, so you two can watch all the fuck-flicks you like, or just get straight down to fucking if you prefer. Have fun: I’ll be back to give you that blowjob!”
“So,” said Mr Daniels after Tracy the conductor had gone, “you’re starting at the RAF?” Alison nodded wordlessly, still mesmerised by the big black dick protruding from his fly. “On the National Diploma in Fucking course?” Alison nodded. “Fancy that! My sister is actually starting there this week as well, on the same course. You’re bound to meet.” On the screen, the girl was now covered with jizz: great globules clung to her hair and cheeks and eyelids, and slimy strings of cum, slightly pink from smeared lipstick, dangled from her chin, swinging back and forth as she continued sucking her three cocks. “Congratulations on getting in,” continued Mr Daniels. “That’s quite an achievement.” He smiled kindly at her.
Alison wanted to respond, but could only stare open-mouthed at the huge black cock which continued to stand proud and pulsating from Mr Daniels’ crotch. “Oh sorry,” the man noticed at last, “let me put this away so we can introduce ourselves properly. I’m Rob, suck my cock.”
“Alison, m’ pussy,” she mumbled hoarsely. But as Rob began to cram his cock into his jeans, she couldn’t help but blurt out: “Oh please don’t put your dick away! I mean, it’ll be more comfortable out than in. At least, maybe you’d like me to suck it or something? Oh, but you already booked a blowjob from the conductor. Are you sure you’d rather fuck her than me…?” Alison asked, a slightly pained expression on her face.
Rob smiled again – and for the first time, undistracted by his cock, Alison looked into his face and saw his kind eyes twinkling at her. “Sorry, sir, I mean, Rob, I’m not normally so ditsy, after all if I’m gonna be a professional fucker I should really get a hold of myself, shouldn’t I? I guess I’m a bit nervous, you know, first time away from home…” The girl on the screen was now systematically cleaning up, wiping every last glob of slime off her face and tits with her fingers and guzzling it down enthusiastically.
“It’s lovely to meet you with your guard down, Alison,” said Rob indulgently. “Why don’t you let me eat your pussy a bit first? That way you can tell me a bit about yourself. And I think this scene’s over anyway,” he said, clicking the remote control lying on his berth-side cabinet and turning off the screen.
Alison wanted to apologise for having interrupted Rob’s fap, but instead walked slowly to Berth Two, stowed her luggage, and lay back, propping herself up with a couple of pillows, gently pulling her dress up to her waist, and spreading her legs wide. Rob drew breath, clearly startled by the glistening gorgeousness of the young cunt, hairless except for a rectangular light brown landing-strip.
“Oh, that’s beautiful, Alison. Tell me about yourself while I eat you out,” said Rob, as he knelt before her and gently flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue.
“Oh fuck!” was all Alison could say at first, as a gorgeous tingle spread from her clit throughout her whole body. But, determined to behave professionally, she began her introductions. “Well, I’m eighteen years old, and live with my mom and dad in a village just outside Cunthorpe. Oh, and we have a live-in fucker too, Hortense. Actually, her real name’s Sharon and she comes from Rotherham, but she does the whole French maid thing ‘coz my mom likes it – so we call her – oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck that’s amazing!” Alison’s monologue disintegrated into a string of expletives, as Rob’s tongue began sweeping gently up and down her cunt-lips.
“Go on,” came Rob’s voice from between her thighs.
“Well, I’ve always loved fucking, ever since I can remember. My parents love anal – actually, my dad made his money in butt-plugs: have you seen the ad ‘Do you have a Bates Butt?’” – Alison hummed the tune of the familiar TV jingle – “That’s his company. So anyway, they GM’ed my asshole in vitro, so I’m always clean and lubed, and have complete gape and wink control. I love getting fucked in the ass; as my mom always says, ‘It’s like shitting backwards,’ and – oh fucking Jesus yeah lick that fucking cunt!” Now Rob’s tongue was dipping deep into Alison’s pussy, making obscene slurping noises as her juices seeped down her thighs and all over his face.
“So who taught you to talk so dirty?” came Rob’s slightly muffled voice.
“Oh, that,” replied Alison as she slowly regained her breath, “that’s mainly Hortense actually. I mean, she’s such a professional: I’ve learnt so much from her. My dad’s away a lot, which is why we hired her. Now she fucks my mom with a strap-on, like, every day. And she does the whole French accent thing, like ‘Madame, shall I eat your ‘ot pussy first, or shall I feuck your hass with my beeg cock?’ – my mom loves that sort of – OH FUUUUUCK!” Rob’s tongue had found Alison’s asshole and was gently flicking it.
“Show me what this prize-winning asshole of yours can do then, Alison,” he muttered as he began to gently tease it with the soft circular motion of his tongue.
Alison was struggling to keep control of herself. “Well, I will,” she replied, “but” – and she paused for a moment, trying to work out how she could gain control of this handsome young man too – “only if you sit back and watch. Then I’ll show you my Sexy Talking Asshole Show!”
Rob’s face, shiny with cunt-juice, emerged from between Alison’s thighs. “‘Sexy Talking Asshole Show’? What’s that?” Alison leaned back further and shifted her ass upwards so that Rob could have a perfect view of her asshole, now glistening from his saliva. For extra effect she pulled her dress all the way up, revealing her large, natural-looking tits and puffy dome-shaped nipples, her silver-cocked rosary dangling delicately in-between. Rob drew breath again: “Wow, look at those! Are those GM too?”
“No, MM – my mom bought them for me for my eighteenth. What about that cock of yours? Is that GM – or are all… uh… black dicks that huge?”
“It’s natural,” replied Rob, with another twinkle in his eye. “I’m a bit older than you, and they didn’t have big cock technology when I was in vitro.”
“Very impressive,” Alison giggled, “but now let me give you something to do with that dick! Sit back for the amazing ‘Look Mom No Hands’ Sexy Talking Asshole Show! Tan-tan-taraaa!”
Curious but obedient, Rob sat back on his berth and watched intently as Alison began to slowly open and close her asshole by muscle power alone. When closed, her sphincter was a perfect rosebud, tight, slightly wrinkled, a delicate light brown, framed by a pair of beautiful ass-cheeks, pure white except for one small mole on her right buttock, and – from Rob’s point of view on his berth – topped by two large wobbly mounds of tit, each finished off with a perfect dome-shaped nipple quivering skyward. Said tits formed the frame for Alison’s delicately proportioned face, which made Rob, almost unbeknownst to himself, grin with delight. Then Alison’s asshole began what Rob presumed to be “The Show”, slowly opening and closing to reveal her innards. At first, they were gentle winks, just opening wide enough to, perhaps, tempt a little finger in – like sensually parted lips, Rob thought, except perfectly round, like a little ‘o’. Then the winks began to gradually grow wider: wide enough maybe for a middle finger to probe its way in, then wide enough for a small vibrator. Finally, Alison’s asshole was gaping wide enough for a cock – “maybe even my cock,” thought Rob. And what a perfect asshole it was! There was no hint of slackness or prolapse – just a pure, wide open ‘O’ (“capital ‘O’ now,” thought Rob) guiding the way into Alison’s rectal abyss, which glowed deep red in the reflected light from the ceiling lamps. “Oh fuck,” exclaimed Rob, “can I lick that gape, baby?”
“Not yet,” replied Alison, wagging a finger at him in reproach, and enjoying the effect she was having on the gorgeous man now drooling at her rectum. “Stay sitting back: that was just the overture!”
Alison contracted her asshole suddenly shut, but then, to Rob’s amazement, made it start “talking” – that is to say, opening and closing, but in time with Alison’s speech – for which she put on a hilarious mock twentieth-century posh English accent. “Good mawning, Mister Deniels,” “said” the asshole, expanding and contracting by its own muscle-power, “do you layk drooling over my gaping ahsshale?” Rob laughed out loud, but his cock was stiff as steel inside his jeans. “What’s your favourite kaynd of ahsshale, Mister Deniels?” The asshole gaped wider than ever as Alison put on a deep stentorian voice: “Do you layk your ahsshales wayd and gaping, say you could fit your hayl fist in theah? Or,” – and now the asshole contracted tight again, but opened just wide enough to look as if it was speaking with the high-pitched squeak now emanating from Alison’s mouth – “perheps you’d prefer my ahsshale tayt and stuck-up, like a prudish little ahss-virgin? Or,” – and now Alison resumed her normal accent as her anus returned to a dick-sized gape – “maybe the best kind of asshole is the cock-sized asshole, just the right size for that big black dick to squeeze into and fuck to oblivion?”
Rob couldn’t hold back any longer: this was the wildest, craziest, funniest, sexiest thing he had ever seen in his life, and he wanted nothing more now than to obey the voice and assfuck Alison to said oblivion. He stood up, ripping his jeans down to reveal his huge dick again, more erect than ever, its head now glistening with pre-cum. This time, Alison wasn’t fazed by the gorgeous cock pulsating and bobbing in front of her. She knew she had won: she was in control now – no longer the ditsy teenager mesmerised by her first black dick, but a fucker – a real fucker who knew how to control and pleasure her customers like a professional. “Oh yeah, come on now, Mister Daniels, ram that fucking black dick in my gaping shithole. What are you waiting for?”
Rob wasn’t waiting any longer. He put both his hands under Alison’s butt-cheeks, lifted her ass so that her anus gaped wide towards the ceiling, and plunged his cock downwards deep into her hot rectum. Alison’s asshole was slick as cunt, clean and lubed just as she had promised, and a groan of ecstasy escaped from Rob as his balls slapped against Alison’s ass. Alison’s fuck-talk wasn’t about to let up: “Oh yeah, Mister Daniels, you wanna assfuck this nice young white girl with that huge black dick of yours? You wanna pile-drive her fucking shithole? You wanna clean out her stables with that fucking horse-cock of yours?”
Rob was in seventh fuck-heaven. He fucked that asshole with more lust than he knew he had. He fucked it because it was hot and slimy as a cunt on heat. He fucked it because it sucked his dick better than any cunt or throat he had ever had fucked. He fucked it because this bitch’s filthy talk drove him wild. He pulled Alison’s ass down onto the berth and lay on top of her so that, dick still pounding her shithole, he could suck those big beautiful tits, their finely-rounded nipples now pinker and puffier than ever. He gazed in wonder at that pretty face, those keen brown eyes, those soft pink lips – now unleashing a torrent of verbal filth at him: “You like fucking this dirty white bitch, Mister Daniels? You gonna squirt your cum into that asshole? Swill out her shit-cunt with that cock-cream of yours? Fill her brown hole with all your fucking dick-slime? Watch her eat your fucking cum from her shit-pit? ‘Coz this pretty little white girl owns you. You come in here, boy, and bust up her fucking chifforobe, and she’ll give you a fucking – FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!”
That last “fuuuuuuuck!” was not part of Alison’s script: she cried out in ecstasy as the huge black dick exploded, releasing stream after stream of hot cum into her gaping asshole. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she intoned in time with the pulsation of Rob’s cock, as she felt her rectum being spray-cleaned from inside. Rob kept his cock buried deep in Alison’s rectal reservoir, relishing the feeling of all the cock-cream swashing against his twitching dick-head. When eventually he pulled his cock out, a small flood of cum escaped in his wake and dribbled out onto the berth. Alison reached calmly downward and curled three fingers into her still-gaping shithole, methodically but ostentatiously scooping out the creamy splooge and licking it off her fingers with a gentle moan. Then she did it again, and again, and again until she had eaten it all, apart from a gentle glaze on her lips and chin and a thin web of cum-threads filling her mouth. Finally, a triumphant grin on her face, Alison shut her asshole tight again, announced: “That’s all, folks!” and then let out one long, slow, noisy cum-lubricated fart, the few remaining drops of semen in her asshole oozing and bubbling out of her tight rosebud and dribbling down one butt-cheek.
Rob gazed in amazement at the sight, and he felt something he had never felt before in his life. He had fucked many girls before, but Alison wasn’t just another sexy piece of ass: she was funny yet profound, confident yet vulnerable, gorgeous, lovely, wonderful, amazing… Rob couldn’t find the words to express how he felt, so he said, “You pleasure me, Alison,” and she replied likewise – but Rob knew that this wasn’t just pleasure. It was delight, it was glee, it was delectation, it was enchantment, it was… “fuck, it can’t be…” he muttered to himself, banishing thoughts which he knew were forbidden.
Alison had no such illusions. Licking her lips like the cat that had got the cream, she knew she had triumphed. And that she would triumph again and again. This was no teenage fumble behind the bike-sheds, or school orgy in the park. This was no adolescent family fuck. This was quality. This was the stuff of championships. This was a fuck that even Hortense the professional French maid would be proud of. “Watch out, Royal Academy of Fucking,” she grinned silently to herself, “Alison’s on her way!” Politicians and princes, presidents and kings were going to empty their balls into her asshole before she was done with the world. She was going to be the greatest fucker the continent had ever known!
“Lick m’ pussy, Mister Daniels,” came a slightly distracted voice as the compartment door slid open again, interrupting Alison’s reverie. There was Tracy, her skirt slightly crumpled, her hair dishevelled and her lips and face glistening. “I’ve finished with the girls in One; would you like that blowjob now?” And then, after a brief pause whilst she took in the situation, her eyes alighting, in turn, on Rob’s slimy cock, Alison’s creamy lips, and her cum-coated asshole now shut tight, “or shall I come back later maybe?”
“Uh… maybe later?” said Rob, wiping his cock-head on Alison’s landing-strip. Tracy nodded discreetly and left, sliding the door gently shut behind her.
“Alison,” said Rob, fumbling for words to express how he felt, “you… you pleasure me.”
It was inadequate of course, and Alison didn’t get it. “Too fucking right,” she replied, smiling at her success, a thin glaze of cum still coating her lips.
“No, no, I mean… I… I…”
Alison looked quizzically at him. “…like fucking my asshole?” she suggested, helpfully.
“Oh yeah, sure, but more than that, I think I… uh…”
“… wanna fuck my throat?”
But Rob did not dare say what he really felt, and the best he felt he could get away with was: “Alison, can we maybe just keep fucking now – just slowly, my cock in your cunt, you know, missionary? I know it sounds strange, but I don’t really want to fuck anyone else but you. Does that make any sense?”
“Sure, it means I’m the best fucker in the world. I did tell ya, didn’t I?”
Rob knew he wasn’t getting through, but he also knew that what he really wanted to say was forbidden – especially from a black man in white man’s land. And so, slowly, gently, he slid his dick into Alison’s pussy. And he fucked her, smoothly, tenderly, softly, gently – no longer wild with lust for the dark depths of her ass, but full of delight, respect, compassion and soothing care.
And so Alison and Rob fucked all the way to London. Alison didn’t quite understand what had come over her black stud, why he had become so tender and kind (“almost like Daddy,” she thought to herself), why he was no longer interested in jerking off to the fuck-flicks on the screen, or even getting the blowjob from Tracy the fucker which he had already paid good money for. But his dick was still huge and stiff, and three more times that day he gave her his cum, twice in her cunt and once all over her lovely dome-shaped nipples, while she came again and again under his gentle touch.
As they fucked, they talked. Rob told her about his sister Eva who also wanted to be a fucker and whom Alison would doubtless meet at the RAF (“She’s aiming for corporate – blowjobs under board-room tables, you know…”); about his own work as a civil engineer (“Sounds totally boring…” was Alison’s only reaction); about his parents who had left the continent at the Expulsion in the ‘30s; about how he and his sister were only allowed to stay because his parents had had them sterilised in vitro. “Well,” replied Alison guilelessly, “obviously no one wants you breeding with Europeans again – we just want you for your big dicks!” She giggled, and Rob couldn’t help laughing with her – though there was a hollowness in his eyes and a pain in his heart as he did so – even as he slid his cock in and out of her slippery cunt.
Tracy came back an hour after her previous visit, topless, cum plastered all over her hair and face, one eye glued shut with jizz, and more cock-snot dripping from her chin onto her tits. “Done the bukkake in Three!” she exclaimed with glee. But still Rob said, “maybe later” to her offer of a blowjob, as he gently explored Alison’s smooth cunt with his dick, all the while tenderly kissing her breasts and lips. About an hour before arrival in London, Tracy reappeared, limping slightly, clothes entirely discarded now apart from her high heels, her hair matted and slimy, whipped cream and sperm caked onto her face and tits and oozing from all her orifices, and smelling faintly of piss. “Bit messy for a blowjob, huh?” she said, and Rob replied kindly, “That’s okay, Tracy, I don’t need that blowjob now: Alison is all I ever wanted.”
“Whatever,” thought Alison. “Anyway, I like his dick. Better than rubbing my clit all the way to London.”
