For some people, telephone sex might be sufficiently satisfying, but for me there is nothing better than a thick, hard cock power-hammering its way up my eager chute prior to shooting a massive load of scalding, creamy cum deep inside me. I'd been on a three day trip to Scotland - alone, to buy a prize bull for the estate. And prize bulls will give any man an inferiority complex, James (my long-term lover) had been unable to leave Middlemarsh Hall as he was organizing the village fete, and couldn't leave the estate because the fete was on the day that I returned from my Scottish jaunt.

It was because wanking over a phone call - even with my lover - didn't satisfy me that I was taking the overnight sleeper. That would enable me to be in London by 6.00am and back at Middlemarsh by noon, in time for a good fuck before James opened the annual fete.

I was feeling very horny. After all I hadn't made love to James for three days, nor had sex with anybody. I missed sex - badly! I was so desperate I could, as they say, "fuck a duck". But in just over eleven hours I could be fucking with James. I hoped I could last out.

Although I had traveled the length and breadth of the U.K. by car, train and 'plane, I had never been on a sleeper train. Would I be able to sleep, I wondered, with the inevitable noise and vibration of the train moving through the summer night?

The train departed from Glasgow at 9.45pm and I was at the station in good time at around 9.30pm. I was met by the attendant, who escorted me to my compartment.

It contained a pair of bunk beds.

The attendant showed me how to open the upper berth (if I wanted to use it) and how to summon him if there was anything I needed. I told him that I would use the bottom bunk. When the other guy who was to share the compartment showed up, he could take the top berth. I just hoped he was good looking, and not a portly, bald pensioner.

Now I had a problem. As I explained in an earlier adventure, I never wear anything in bed except my watch and periodically a cock-ring. I don't even own a pair of pajamas. But, the problem!

Should I get undressed and dive into bed before the other occupant arrived, or should I wait until a more sensible time? I don't normally go to bed as early as half past nine, at least not alone, so why should I tonight?

I decided to read to pass a little time. Rather than get a gay magazine out of my bag, I started on the crossword in the evening paper. Made fairly good progress on it actually. Suddenly I realized that the train had already started to move. Very smoothly and very quietly.

And the guy who was to share the compartment hadn't arrived!

So I could relax. Although I like looking at men and fucking around with (and in) them, I had been a little wary of sleeping with a total stranger in the top berth. I mean, he might be straight!

But now the problem wasn't a problem any more. I have to confess to a twinge of disappointment. Now I would never know what he was like, or what might have been.

The train had gradually increased its speed but was still moving very smoothly, so much so that I started to nod off. I was having mini-dreams of naked men climbing into the top bunk. Naturally they were all good looking guys, well hung, and very definitely their accoutrements were hanging as they climbed into the upper berth, and their buttocks were twitching. Strangely, once they were aboard, they disappeared from sight.

We must have been traveling for an hour or so, when suddenly I jerked awake.

Now, I would go to bed. The bunk was remarkably wide for a single berth, and made up with smooth, white, cotton sheets. The railway company hadn't aspired to duvets, and the blankets and bedspread were marked with the company logo.

I undressed, placed my clothes on hangers, and put them in the tiny wardrobe - well cupboard really - that had been thoughtfully provided, and closed the door.

Have you heard the saying "as one door closes, another opens"? Well that's exactly what happened. As I closed the cupboard, the door to the corridor opened and there was the attendant standing in the doorway with a tray of tea.

Now you would expect him to apologize and beat a hasty retreat. Not a bit of it. He closed the door and said:

"Excuse me sir, I've brought your drink"

"But I didn't order anything to drink."

"Oh no sir, it's included in the service. I didn't think you looked like a "cocoa" person, so I brought tea."

I didn't think I looked like a cocoa person either, standing there wearing just a watch, and a cock-ring encircling a rising pecker.

"Thank you, I can use the cup for a real drink when I've had the tea."

"Sorry your tea was late, but I always look after the old 'uns first."

He turned to go out, giving me a last lingering look, and closed the door.

"Well!" I thought. "What else is included in the service?"

I dug a bottle of single malt out of my traveling bag, and poured a good swig into the teacup. That certainly tasted better than railway tea. Looking out of the window I could see the lights of towns and villages flashing by. I could also see my reflection. A naked, good-looking, uncut stud, with a large, healthy erection.

I refilled the cup and put it on the night table, and was just pulling back the bedclothes to get into bed, when the door opened again.

Obviously the attendant had a passkey, but how did he manage to unlock the door without me hearing him?

"I've come to collect the tray, sir"

"Fine, but can I keep a cup for my whisky?"

"No problem, sir. I brought a glass for your night-cap."

He produced two glasses. Repeat two.

It was only polite to half fill each of them. After all he wasn't driving the train.

Should I get into bed? Perhaps he would read something into the movement. But if I didn't, he might read something else. I compromised (don't I always?) and sat on the edge of the bunk.

He was still standing there, with his glass in one hand - and squeezing his growing cock with the other.

I suggested he sit down. He did, swiftly changing his glass from his right to his left hand, so that he could lightly stroke my left thigh. I could see the pair of us reflected in the mirror on the wardrobe door.

He wasn't bad looking, but not exactly handsome. I suppose you would call him acceptable. In his late thirties I would say, about 6ft. tall with fair hair and bright blue eyes. And his cock was still bulging down his left leg.

The attendant certainly knew what he wanted. But I wasn't sure whether he intended to continue giving service, or if he wanted to be serviced. I was almost convinced that he wanted to be "of service". And I was right!

Having fluttered his fingers over my thigh, he continued his explorations. There wasn't much to discover. I was, after all, stark bollock naked. It was just a question of time before he reached his goal, - my meat and two veg.

I know it's a very down market description, but think about it. The cock does look like a sausage although whether a cocktail or salami obviously depends on its size and state of arousal. And balls do have the vague appearance of certain kinds of vegetable.

Anyway, I decided to let him have his head. Well, my head actually. I have quite a long foreskin for which I am very grateful. It allows more possibilities than a cut cock. A circumcised dong isn't as sensitive as one normally covered by a foreskin. A foreskin can be pulled over a partner's exposed glans. Oh, there are many possibilities. Definitely, an uncut cock is the best.

I leaned back on my elbows to give him free access. I wished that he would take off his serge uniform. It was bloody itchy on bare flesh. He said that he couldn't get undressed as he was "on call". What was he, a fucking doctor?

He closed his lips over my ramrod poker, and went to work with a will. His hot mouth went up and down on my cock with obvious experience. He had first peeled back the skin so I was in a state of great sensitivity as well as excitement.

His method was superb, clearly well practiced. I was wriggling on the bed with pleasure and anticipation letting out little mewls of pleasure as his hot and agile tongue rolled around my glans and prodded my piss-hole. He was an expert and I began to wonder where he stopped.

The answer was, he didn't. He lifted my legs so that he could thoroughly wash my balls with his saliva.

Lifting my legs a little higher he tongued my perineum. I once looked that word up in a dictionary, to discover that it is "the nearly diamond shaped surface of the human trunk between the thighs".

Did you know that? I knew where it was and how sensitive it is, but I sure as hell wouldn't have described it as "nearly diamond" shaped. All I knew was that I loved having mine tongued (as does James) and occasionally nibbled. Oh what bliss!

Ought I to ask the attendant his name? Or was that infra dig on a sleeper train? It was a bit like asking the name of an anonymous stranger on Hampstead Heath, with his cock slamming up your arse. A bit late if you didn't want to be fucked by a Charlie.

Then the attendant had second thoughts:

"Perhaps I should take off my trousers. I don't want to get cum on them."

Thank God for that. Now at least, whatever else I got I wouldn't get serge burns on my arse.

He took off his trousers, revealing a surprisingly fashionable pair of briefs that left nothing to the imagination. His cock was already large and still growing, and looked ready to burst out of his Lycra briefs. I licked my lips. This one wasn't going to get away if I could help it.

The attendant pulled his briefs down so that the enormous head, with balls to match was pulled downward by the waistband, and then bounced back to slap against his stomach. Why should I worry, I was by now at the stage where anything goes - and probably would.

My balls and anus were already running with his saliva. He spit on that monstrous cock, and without any preamble, lunged into my arse, in one fell swoop, right up to his root. Although I had been expecting something similar, it still took my anus by surprise. Not the size of his dong, I had been prepared for that, but the vicious arrogance of his non-stop plunge.

The working class has no finesse.

But we aristocrats, through years of "discipline" at public school, can take whatever is thrust upon us. And most of the time we enjoy it. Like now!

As I said, my arse was already running with a mixture of his saliva and now my anal juices, as he plunged in and out repeatedly of my twitching, puckered hole. He showed no mercy or concern. All he wanted was to fuck the arse off somebody. Anybody. And I was the lucky guy whose furrow he was ploughing.

He rammed interminably and with such strong thrusts that I was continually being forced up the bed until my head (the one with the brains) was being bashed into the bed head.

My own cock was rampant, hard and oozing. He grabbed it, and roughly masturbated me whilst at the same time viciously biting and rolling each of my tits in turn. I was in heaven and it was merely a question of which of us would cum first.

I suspected it would be me. It was. I shot wad after wad of sizzling cum over my stomach, chest and face, which he proceeded to lick off, whilst it was still warm, at the same time continuing his battering-ram tactics. I felt like the gate of a castle being bombarded by horned Vikings, without let or hindrance.

In due course, after he had eaten all of my cum, he was ready to cum. I could feel the alteration to the shape and size of his cock and the ever more speedy thrustings into my innards.

Would he be one of those people, like in the videos, who thought that he had to pull out to cum. Fortunately he wasn't. He shot load after load up my eager canal, and eventually slipped out.

"Sorry, I have to go now, sir. The little old ladies will be waiting for me take away their empty trays."

"Well", I thought to myself "they won't get any other service from him tonight."

Spent cum was oozing out of me, but I thought:

"So what, he'll have to change the sheets, so he can clean the mess he's made."

With that I rolled over, and went to sleep, dribbling cum from front and rear.

When I woke the following morning, I remembered my pleasant, sexy dream.

Until the attendant came in and said:

"Sorry sir, I forgot my watch last night."

And picked it up from the shelf above the bed.

Four hours later, I was sitting in the front row at the opening ceremony of the fete. I wonder how many people realized that only twenty minutes before, James and I had been stuck together with each other's cum.

That was one of the reasons my hair was still wet!