Lust on a train in post WW1 England
L’lydia
The train eased slowly into Radley Station, hissing impatiently, its huge connecting rod making lazy sweeps as it ambled past the waiting passengers.
I looked on eagerly for the day before I had bribed the driver to make a very slow approach.
I saw them, Lord Munchester and his daughter, en route to London, I knew he would do a runner, twenty thousand pounds he owed me, gambling debts, and this was 1924 when ten bob was a lot of money.
I sprinted after them and barged a Vicar out of the way to ensure I and only I was able to enter their compartment. For our American readers may I explain the carriage had full heigh partitions and five seats across the whole width of the carriage, two sets facing each other, with no corridor, only a door each side. Once in none was trapped until the train stopped.
“Good God Ffarquarson, what in the deuce is the meaning of this?” he demanded as I flung the door wide and then blocked it to repel boarders.
“Doing a runner, or off to the bank to get my cash?” I enquired..
“M’mummy s’said you’d been naughty.” the girl ventured. She had an unfortunate lisp, nature had not been kind to her, her face followed her father rather than her mother and her father resembled a wart hog. Sort of filly who would get odds in region of 100 to 1 in the marriage stakes and neither was time on her side, Twenty One had come and gone long since.
“Business,” he explained.
“Monkey business I expect,” I ventured.
“M’mummy said I was to k’keep an eye on him,” She ventured, “I’m L’lydia but the way,” she suggested.
“And I am Ffarquarson, Graham Ffarquarson,” I ventured, “And I am very pleased to meet you.”
The train wheezed and hooted and lumbered out of the station next stop London 35 minutes away.
“So where is Emma?” I asked, Emma being the younger daughter and much courted as she had followed her mother for her looks.
“D’daddy sent her nto see Aunty M’maude,” L’lydia explained, “Why do you k’know her?”
“Daddy wagered her honour in a Poker match and lost,” I explained and paused to let the information sink in. “Though he did say “My most beautiful daughter” are you his most beautiful daughter L’lydia, shall I fuck you instead?”
The poor girl blushed, I am no oil painting, less it be by that upstart Pick asso, but I face aside I venture I am not below par, Thirty years having elapsed but I keep myself in trim, and ladies seldom have cause for complaint. I watched Lydia struggle with her concience. Good God, I mused, she fancies me. I swiftly realised her chances of marriage were well under par and without a dowry did not exist, perhaps she craved a good cocking.
“Say the word my dear and I shall cock you in her stead,” I suggested.
“I shall, If it might spare poor Emma then I shall submit,” she answered.
“What let the Blaggard screw you, over my dead body,” the father insisted.
“Really, throw you daughters noble offer to sacrifice her honour in her face,” I mused, “It is your fault you are in this mess,” I reminded him.
We rattled over a junction, “So what is it to be?” I asked, “Shall we resolve the matter here and now Lydia, We have time and a half to copulate before arrival at London.”
“If you sign the debt is paid I shall submit to your lusts,” Lydia offered.
“Hold on old thing, I’m not exactly overcome with lust but I’ll leave you with a smile on your face I promise.”
She took a note pad and pen from her hand bag and said “Sign.” and she swiftly wrote a note for me to sign.
I signed with a flourish.
“To business, turn your back father.” she said and standing she lowered her pantaloons and put them in her bag.
She raised her skirts. Her quim was quite pristine and her pubc hair neatly trimmed.
“You’re no Virgin!” I protested.
“W’well, T’technically,” she said, “I am but I’m not, I get itches up inside, so I use a candle.”
“Lydia for gods sake,” her father said angrily.
She still held her skirts, “Sit on the seat edge,” I ordered as I lowered my trousers. I knelt before her or tried to but there was no room for my feet.
“The heater is under your seat, if I sit there and you come here,” Lydia suggested
So we changed places. I touched her quim. She reacted like I had stung her with a nettle but the slit glistened moistly, she was ready already.
My member needed no urging, he was straining at the leash and though the anges my feet adopted to fit under the seat was agonising it was nothing to the pleasure Lydia’s quim afforded me as I entered her. The pleasure softened her facial features. I kissed her. She kissed meand then we ground to a halt beside the Platform at West Ealing for an unschedued stop. The 10.20 had been cancelled and we had stopped to pick up the remainders.
To be honest we barely noticed but apparently despite Lord Munchester’s best efforts three young women entered and then rapidly left our compartment, an elderly lady had a panic attack and a porter nearly burst a blood vessel when he saw us copulating.
For my part little this impinged on my pleasure, I suppose Lydia imagined it to be her sole opportunity to have chidren and she took every means at her disposal to get my seed deep into her womb. For my part I enjoyed the ride, and mused over whether it should becme a regular event, after all she was unlikely to have many opportunities to be unfaithful.
With this in mind I shot every last drop of my cream deep into Lydia, the notion that I should pull out to spare her never crossed my mind.
I realised Lydia was screaming, “What is it?” I queried.
“She having a bloody orgasm you idiot!” Lord Munchester informed me icily.
Suddenly we were at Ranelagh Bridge slowing for Paddington. We made ourselves decent and stepped from the train.
“Where are you going?” Lydia asked.
“To my flat in Kensington, then to my club,” I replied.
“Can I come?” Lydia asked coyly.
“Why?” I asked.
“To carry on where we left off of course silly,” She said, “I usually spend an hour at least playing with my Candle.”
“That is utterly, outrageous!” Lord Munchester stormed.
“You sir are not invited,” I explained, “But I should be very pleased if you come with me, or do I mean cum with me?”
I kissed her, she kissed me, and if the porter had not at that very instant removed the barrow we were adjacent to we shoud have fornicated once again oblivious to the torrent of passengers passing by.
By the end of the afternoon, we had conjoined again twice, purchased toiletries, underwear, a new dress, a new hat and new shoes for Lydia and I had the distinct feeling I had been trapped.
She had the wedding planned before the week was out and every day which passed she looked that bit more comely. Of course she fell for a child instantly.
So beware when you gamble, you can lose even when you win, I lost my freedom and gained immeasurably.