Rarely watched trains, part two

Originally published on August 28, 2006.

Before we left the station, Miro and Laco wanted something to eat and while we were waiting in line at one of the many fast-food kiosks that line the central corridor leading out of the station, up staggered the Czech punter whom Pavel had ditched to come with me.

There was a brief burst of agitated Czech and frustrated English translation from Miro. The punter was pissed off and wanted to come with us. He seemed unconcerned that we were going to sleep in the trains that night; he just wanted to stay with Pavel. I figured there went my chance with him but Pavel just rolled his eyes at the drunk Czech guy and leaned over to whisper in my ear, “No problem, Riki. This man have money.”

OK, boy, whatever you say.

After a brief argument with the station cops — Miro insisted on using the last two minutes on the clock to eat his klebasa, but they wanted us to leave immediately — we exited the station’s main entrance and milled around for a while with the other down and outs, smoking a cigarette apiece.

On the way to masarykovo, the Czech punter stopped dead on the sidewalk in front of a herna bar near the main station where rent boys from Pinocchio sometimes hang out if for some reason they can’t go to Monty’s. It was several seconds before we realized he had stopped. He was standing there swaying slightly, glassy-eyed and mumbling, but if he was speaking Czech then it was certainly too slurred for me to understand it. Even Pavel had a hard time.

Finally, we understood he wanted a beer. Pavel explained that we didn’t have any money and if he wanted to have sex with Pavel he had to buy all of us a beer. (Miro explained this exchange to me later.) We had two quick beers in the herna bar.

The Czech punter became agitated a couple times when Pavel paid too much attention to me and Pavel had to move from his original chair next to mine to the one closer to the punter. (I never did get his name and no one bothered to tell me.)

At some point while Miro and I were looking at the juke box and I was getting ready to play some old Run DMC, Pavel took the punter to the toilet, for a few minutes of sloppy sucking, I guess. When he came back, he informed us that the punter wanted all of us to have group sex. I assume that was the price of our two beers. I agreed, not because I wanted to have group sex with this guy included, but because I figured, given how drunk he was, it would be easy to avoid it until he passed out.

With that settled we made our way around the front of masarykovo and then around the back, hopped over the tracks and on to the first train. The punter had to be helped up by Pavel, who had my 15-kilo backpack on his slim back, onto the platform; that took what seemed like 5 minutes. The punter’s probably younger than me but obviously a lot more drunk and not used to scarpering across wet tracks to find a place to fuck and sleep.

The first train doors we tried were locked shut. Actually, this is the main reason why there are no cops at Masarykovo: the security is in the doors themselves, shut hydraulically and, for all intents and purposes, effectively locked. Perhaps the station authorities figure the homeless don’t have enough strength to pry them open.

Regardless, it took a few tries and four of us to pry a set of doors. We were immediately greeted by a big dry puff of stale air, scented with the body odors of about 50 sleeping homeless people. In the first seat was my old friend Jarda, who, despite a nose dive into piko addiction, still has the station’s best butt. He was dozing sitting up, and as we walked down the aisle, we saw more and more people we knew.

Hey, there’s Jirka! And that weird but cute little gypsy woman who walked up to me the other day and yelled, “He was born with blue hair!” And Kuba and Lucas and Pepa and on and on. It was too much and too many really; so, we went to find a train less full of people we knew, people who were probably not so smelly on their own but whose cumulative effect was more libido-dampening than a dozen cold showers.

The train right next to that one was cold and easy to open. But we took it anyway. The seats were bench style but not long. Conveniently, each bench seat faced its partner across a narrow divide. Perfect for a circle jerk. And that’s what happened. But not before Miro and Laco took each other off a few seats down to huff and puff their way to orgasm. It didn’t sound particularly heated to me and I know if I had come back from sex with Laco, I’d be a little more winded.

But hey it wasn’t me. Not yet anyway. Miro laid back on a bench across the aisle, put one arm over his face and almost immediately began snoring. That amused us for a couple minutes, but the punter was in the mood for something else. I watched him unzip his jeans, grab Pavel’s head and start pushing it toward his crotch. Pavel turned his head slightly to look at me, shrugged and went on down. At that moment I decided to bow out.

The punter was not unattractive but I don’t find stone-cold drunks particularly appealing sexually, especially when I’m not even buzzed. So, I got up and laid down on the bench behind them. I contented myself with listening to Pavel slurp and every once in a while peeked over the top of the seat to see if Pavel was gettin’ some, too. I wanted to see his dick of course.

On the third peek I got my wish but he wasn’t hard. He saw me watching, though, smiled and waved at me to come sit down next to him. I don’t say no to dick. No, not much. I sat down next to Pavel and he put his arm around me, did exactly what the punter did to him: Forced my head down into his lap. No problem for me. Unfortunately, his dick was completely soft and not a bit warm. I guess spit on flesh cools quickly.

I thought the punter would be pissed at my taking his place but Laco soon scooted in next to him to fill the breach. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the Czech unzipped Laco’s dirty, cream-colored, baggy cargoes and went down on him. Meanwhile, Pavel’s dick wasn’t getting any bigger but it was getting warmer. I was bored with trying and sat back up to kiss on him some more and also to watch what was goin’ on with Laco’s dick. Sizing up nicely, it was.

When the punter saw my face was out of Pavel’s lap, he brought Pavel’s face closer to his own. I then immediately knelt down in front of Laco, pulled apart his zipper, and licked a trial lick. But before I could really go down on him, he grabbed my head with both hands, tilted my face up and frenched me. Not bad but not nearly as good as Pavel. He let go of my head and gave me a final peck on my nose, letting me get back to work.

I tried to soft lip-grip first. That wasn’t getting him going. Then I wrapped my fist around his dick — a good 18 Cm, I think, although it was quite swallowed up in his big ol’ baggies — and tried a firmer grasp with both my fingers and my mouth. This got him a lot harder in a few seconds and he started fucking my face. I was at that for a while, getting into it and moaning appreciation for Laco’s precum, when the punter got down there with me and sort of horse-nudged my head aside.

It was such a funny movie I couldn’t get mad, figuring it would be nice to watch for a while anyway. So, Pavel and I sat with our arms around each other watching Laco get blown while Laco grinned at us over the punter’s back. Then the punter stopped and motioned Pavel to go back to work. I figured I’d go back on my knees but Laco surprised me by kneeling in front of me first.

I’d already took my dick out although I can’t remember at what point. Laco dug a little around inside my jeans to free up some room — told you I wasn’t that big — and began aggressively sucking my hard-on, pulling down toward my balls with one hand. He was going at it really rough which normally I don’t like. But a cold train at 4 in the morning didn’t really seem like the ideal situation for basic training in how I like my blow jobs.

I could tell I would cum eventually and as soon as I just relaxed and focused on the fact that this cute-as-hell 18-year-old Slovakian boy was happily chowing on my dick, my dick got harder and veinier the harder he sucked and stroked. ‘Bout two minutes and I shot.

When he felt me coming, he took his mouth off me, and just jacked my cum onto my jeans and the arm of my coat, all the time watching the expression on my face. He kissed the tip, licked a short lick and asked me if it was good. I said yes and he got up off his knees and then put his finger to his lips in a hushing gesture, and then pointed to Miro snoozing one seat over. “No speak Miro, ok?”

I said I wouldn’t but he evidently didn’t believe me, asking me again and again not to tell Miro.

“Okay, okay, Laco. No problem.”

He smiled, satisfied and then motioned me to join him on another bench where we snuggled for a short time. I kissed his forehead, his nose and his closed eyes. He smiled and asked me, “Dobre sex?”

I was feeling more honest and since the orgasm hadn’t really been that good, I told him, “Dobre, dobre.”

Dobre ale no ex-treem?” he questioned.

“No ex-treem. Ale dobreDobre,” I said, trying to reassure him.

This seemed to make him happy and he closed his eyes for a bit, settling into the crook of my arm. Then he went back to Miro, waking him up.

“Okay. [beat] No speak Miro, okay?” he whispered from across the aisle. I just nodded wearily. The vinyl under my butt got colder with him gone but I still fell fast asleep for at least a few hours.

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