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Subject: 9:20 from Paddington Station (Revised) 9:20 from Paddington Station wesley.crusher@ A bright and mild September day saw sixteen year old Harry Benson enter Paddington Station; his big brown eyes bright and wide; his strong white teeth gleaming through his open, boyish and irrepressible grin as he passed through the high entrance of the crowded, bustling station. The gentle temperature of the day, coupled with his heightened excitement meant that a light sheen lay upon the lad’s brow and he panted slightly from the warmth; clothed as he was in a dark hand-me-down coat and a thick but slightly frayed flannel shirt. The only item of clothing that the lad wore that was not second hand were his pair of brand trousers which his constantly cash strapped Aunt had stretched herself to buy. Whilst they were a little too tight for true comfort, his ageing Aunt (his only surviving relative) believed it was important to show the world that her Harry was good enough to stand alongside any other boy even if they did have more money… The heat within the station caused Harry to stop and remove his coat and place it on top of his luggage. Additionally, he unfastened three of his shirt buttons, exposing the top part of his firm, smooth but perspiring chest to the air, sighing with relief as he waggled his shirt flaps encouraging air flow across his heated skin. The boy presently continued to half drag his large suit-case (which his Aunt had over packed) through the station concourse. He knew he wouldn’t have stood a chance of moving the heavy suitcase at all if it hadn’t been for the fact that his chest, torso, shoulders and biceps had filled out considerably due to the hard manual work on a neighbouring farm that he had been doing since he was twelve to financially help his beloved aunt. The boy patted his trouser pocket containing his expensive train ticket as he reminded himself how lucky he was to have won the rare scholarship allowing him to attend a college; indeed, he was the envy of every other lad in the small village in the South East of England that he had called home since birth. Despite his outward bravado, deep down he nursed a childish sadness and anxiety about leaving the only home he had known. Only the evening before, his aunt had to hold him gently as his young heart was torn and rent by anxiety at the big upcoming change in his young life. He recalled with almost suffocating affection, the words of his Aunt. “Be brave and happy my precious boy. Your dear Mum will always be your Guardian Angel. She’s so proud of her beautiful boy who is now a very handsome young man who can face the world and be strong for her just as she will always be strong for you. You are so much like your Mum in every way and you will carry her spirit with you into the world.” Although Harry had never known his Mother who died whilst giving him birth, he had a clear vision of her. A most beautiful and graceful lady, with the smoothest complexion and the warmest of eyes which shone with kindness and compassion. Her long, brown lustrous hair fell about her beautiful porcelain-smooth shoulders and her gentle loving smile lit up an angelic face that lifted the spirit of every person that beheld her. Buoyed up by the pseudo memory of his dear Mother, his grin reasserted itself and, as he struggled past a newspaper man nearby, he winked at him causing the man to smile and salute good-naturedly back. The newspaper man needed something to cheer him up that morning as the paper headlines screamed out that yet another body of a young lad had been found on the railway tracks around London…. Steam Train Drivers and Stokers with big shoulders and muscular arms walked amongst the crowds. The sight of the large muscular men filled the young lad with awe and wonder. Although, tragically, his father had died in a factory accident seven months before his birth, he could easily imagine his Father as a towering Steam Train Driver standing beside his wonderful Mother, exuding massive authority and a powerful righteous spirit. The background cacophony of train whistles, loud shrieking jets of steam from departing trains, combined with odours of metal and coal and the sight of crowds of people, injected into Harry a thrilling wondrous feeling; a drug which he could not get enough of. As he moved toward the concourse centre in order to orient himself, the periphery of his focus made him aware of two young teenage girls passing nearby, one of whom nudged the other and surreptitiously indicated Harry. She whispered behind her hand in a rather gauche manner, “Mable – look at that boy. Oh my….he’s quite a looker and no mistake!” Her friend turned her head to look at Harry and, seeing him catch her gaze, blushed furiously and, giggling nervously, hurried after her friend. Whilst girls did not particularly figure in his view of the world at the time, the compliment nevertheless lifted his spirits higher and a broad smile appeared on his full young lips, revealing his perfect set of white teeth. He approached a large crowd that surrounded the big board that displayed the departure times of all the trains and peered carefully, searching for his train. There it was; the 9:20 to Birmingham; platform 13. Despite the noise, his keen ears heard his name called. Pin-pointing it’s source, the lad saw a beautiful slim young woman with her brown haired young son who looked about eight years old who was excitedly pointing at one of the trains indicated on the board; his eyes wide with excitement. He overheard her speaking to her eager son. “No Harry, you mustn’t go on that train, it’s not the one we want”. Harry smiled at his namesake and wondered if he would have been like that with his own Mother had he got the chance. As he stood there smiling, the young lady did a most curious thing. She ignored her impatient and excitable son and, slowly turning her head, she looked directly at him. For three long seconds, Harry felt himself falling into those big eyes that seemed to shine with an inner desperation and earnestness. The background noise seemed somehow to fade away and his focus zoomed in on the lips of the woman as they opened to form words that he heard in his mind rather than across the intervening space. “No Harry, you mustn’t go on that train.” Harry felt a cool sliver of ice pierce his being. He started to smile uncertainly and took a faltering step toward her. He opened his mouth to speak when his view of her was interrupted by a passing luggage trolley. When it passed, the boy could see no sign of her or her son. He looked around, confused as to how she could have disappeared from his sight so quickly. Unable to see her, he tried to rationalise what had just happened, reasoning that the woman must have been talking to her son and not to him. Why would she be talking to him? She didn’t even know him…. The incident lingered in his mind for some period, flustering him and tainting his mood with a vague uneasiness. Finally managing to shrug the odd event away, Harry made his way (burdened as he was by his overstuffed suitcase) to platform 13. His sense of adventure restored, he arrived at the start of the platform where there was a rather rotund but fairly jolly red faced ticket collector checking the eligibility of all passengers passing through. As the boy presented himself, the Ticket Collector appraised the young lad with a sparkle in his eyes as the kid offered his 3rd. Class ticket with huge pride. “Well, well, my boy. And where are you bound today?” Grinning from ear to ear, Harry proudly announced, “To Birmingham, Sir; – I’m off to Sixth Form Residential College.” The man looked the boy over unhurriedly, his small piggy eyes missing no detail at all. He very much liked what he saw. So much so, he felt a stirring between his fat thighs as he perused the good looking youngster before him. The man’s eyes gleamed as he took in the neatly presented young lad, the very youthful but strong male jawline, the open smile, the fine head of brown wavy hair that flopped occasionally over big brown sparkling eyes. The Ticket Collector pulled a mock impressed face. “Sixth Form Residential College, eh? You must be a very clever lad to go there. You must be sixteen, or thereabouts?” Harry grinned and nodded confirmation, as the man’s eyes travelled from the lad’s open fine face, across the kid’s broad shoulders and firm biceps where they filled out the flannel shirt. “Hmm…you’re certainly a strong, healthy looking boy….”, murmured the man as his eyes continued their journey down the kid’s slim torso. Moving his gaze further downwards, past the lad’s narrow waist, it took on a hungry look as it lingered momentarily on the front of the boy’s tight fitting trousers. He licked his dry lips and dragged his piggy eyes back to Harry’s face. “Oh yes…..in fact, not a boy anymore…… “, murmured the man to himself who was now breathing slightly more heavily. “What’s your name son?” “Harry, Sir…”, smiled the boy who was puffing himself up at being acknowledged as an adult. “Well, Harry, as you’re starting College, I think that qualifies you as a VIP and……. soooooo……..I will allow you to travel in the Ticket Collectors Carriage.” The lad’s eyes widened with pleasure and surprise. He was sure it was some special honour and privilege though he wasn’t quite sure what it actually meant. “Gee…thanks, Sir. Um….so what is it….I mean….where do I go then?” The man leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s a special carriage only for Ticket Collectors. No ordinary passengers are allowed in there. So we can travel in peace and quiet. No other passengers will disturb us in there….that, I can guarantee.” Harry could hardly believe his luck. He felt the luckiest boy in the world. Not only was he going to college, he was getting to travel in the VIP carriage with the Ticket Collector! As the man perused the boy, he nodded to himself, as though reaching a decision. “….and not only that, if you’re a good lad, I might be able to get my friend, the Stoker to pop in and chat to you. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Harry most definitely felt that he had died and gone to heaven. His big brown eyes grew bigger and rounder and his grin widened further. “Wow, that’s amazing, Sir. Thank you so much! Er, do you think your friend would be happy to give me advice on how to become a Train Stoker or Driver?” The fat man’s eye gleamed with a strange inner light; his breathing became slightly labored. “Oh yes, my boy. I know for a fact that it will give him a lot of pleasure to give it to you…” Harry beamed at the man with happy anticipation and gratitude that the Ticket Collector would go to such trouble to get his friend to give him advice. “Gee, that’s great, Sir.” Aware that a queue had started to form behind the lad, the fat man reluctantly asked Harry to go the the end of the train and wait for him by the last carriage as he continued to examine the tickets of the remaining passengers. As Harry passed each of the carriages on his way to the rear of the train, he increasingly felt very lucky to have been offered a special seat in the VIP Carriage as each carriage he peered into as he struggled past was packed with people. Finally he arrived at the end of the train to find a very small carriage about fifteen feet long. There were two narrow windowed doors; one at each end of the carriage. Harry started to doubt whether there would be enough room for him and his luggage, let alone the corpulent ticket collector and possibly the Stoker. As the boy stood looking up at the end carriage with some degree of doubt, he heard a greeting shouted to him from further along the platform from whence he came and he could make out the Ticket Collector accompanied by a much bigger and taller person which Harry started to realise with increasing excitement, was a Train Driver or Stoker. “Ready for the Off, lad?”, puffed the fat man as he approached. Harry nodded mutely, unable to take his big wide eyes off the towering Stoker who smiled down at the boy. “Just wanted to introduce you to my friend, John, who normally has the extremely important job of stoking the furnace to keep this baby rolling.”, panted the Ticket Collector. “He’s going to see if he can get another stoker to stand in for him which will enable him to spend time with us in the VIP carriage to show you things during the journey….” Harry gulped in awe and clumsily extended his hand. “Wow- thank you Sir, anything you can show me would be amazing”. The big man with powerful broad shoulders and a rough, soot smeared visage dwarfed the short florid ticket collector. He wore a shirt that had once been white that was unbuttoned to the navel. The boy’s wide eyes couldn’t help but look at the man’s broad, sweating, bulging pecs and torso. “I see you’re looking at my chest boy.”, rumbled the Stoker, his keen eyes watching the boy very closely. “It’s sweaty and dirty…but that’s the nature of the job. If you want to be a Stoker, you’ve got to have good muscular bulges in order to wield the heavy shovel and coal.” The lad gulped, his eyes big and round as he realised he was caught staring. “S…s…sorry….S…sir, I d..didn’t mean to offend…I….”, stammered Harry, at a loss for words and, indeed, at a loss to understand his behaviour. The Stoker stared sternly for 5 long seconds, then twisted his mouth into a smirk. “Just kiddin, boy. You’re a lad, so you obviously can’t mean anything.”, said the big man as he took Harry’s extended hand. The big man slowly shook Harry’s hand as he moved his sharp, hawk-like gaze over Harry’s good looking face and, noting the open buttons of the flannel shirt, he lingered over the tantalising view of the youngster’s broad, smooth, tanned chest. Harry continued shaking the man’s large calloused hand as he felt the big man’s eyes raking his body and, unaccountably, a little frisson of excitement tickled deep in his anus and around his full cock and balls causing his groin to feel even tighter in the snug fitting trousers…. The lad put it down to being thrilled that his fitness should be good enough to merit notice and respect from a Stoker. He puffed up his chest a bit hoping it would impress the man further. The Stoker continued to hold Harry’s hand during his inspection of the lad and, casting his eyes downward between the boy’s legs, they widened imperceptibly. What they saw caused his nostrils to flare with lust. The Stoker let out a small grunt of appreciation and, with some difficulty, looked back at Harry’s open good looking face. “I see you’ve got decent bulges yourself, boy. Perhaps you could well be a Stoker…….” Harry opened his mouth and his eyes widened in wonder. “Wow, really Sir?!” “Sure, why not?”, smiled the Stoker, finally releasing the lad’s hand whilst using his praise as an excuse to run his eyes appreciatively over Harry’s body again, licking his lips slowly as he did so. Harry grinned and jokingly adopted a body builder’s stance; spreading his legs and flexing his biceps. “Well Sir, it’s all the lifting I do!” The big man grinned a toothy smile and nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, to be sure, those bulges are fine as well…….” Harry realised the man must have been referring to his chest and so he puffed it out further as he struck his comical pose. “Does that help, Sir?”, asked Harry, grinning hugely at his own silly behaviour. Both men smiled and nodded their agreement though neither of them were looking at the boy’s biceps or chest…. Dragging his gaze back up to Harry’s face, the Stoker nodded quickly. “I look forward to seeing much more of what you’ve got, boy. Only then can I decide if you’re genuine Stoker material.” “Y..Yessir….”, nodded the lad, a little unsure what the Stoker meant but assumed it was a compliment of some sort and, again, he felt the tightness in his groin…. Holding the boy’s gaze for a final moment longer, the tall man turned to go and, as he did so, he muttered under his breath to the fat man. “Perfect”. Harry caught the word but was unsure what to make of it. “Up you go then and into the VIP carriage with you”, smiled the fat Ticket Collector. Straining his biceps and abs, the lad managed sınırsız escort to lift the luggage up and step aboard the carriage, watched closely by the Ticket Collector who enjoyed the sight very much. He stood behind the boy, licking his lips at the sight of the fit youngster bending over his luggage as he braced himself to lift it. His beady eyes drank in the sight of the lad’s young tight arse deliciously highlighted by the stretched thin fabric of the tight fitting trousers. The thinness of the material across the boy’s arse also revealed that the handsome teenager was wearing a jockstrap causing the man to almost moan aloud with greedy lust. Harry finally managed to set it down in front of the carriage door. Turning around, Harry stood on the metal entranceway to the carriage, his hands gripping the railing. He was panting slightly, his legs slightly parted and his wide sparkling eyes and face were alight with excitement and adventure as they surveyed the bustling station. He beamed at the Ticket Collector. “I still can’t believe it Sir, it’s such a wonderful sight!” The ticket collector nodded and then sighed heavily with lust. “Yes….it most certainly is…”, breathed the man, as his piggy eyes once more feasted upon the young lad’s handsome face, tight torso and very healthy bulge between the youth’s firm spread legs. “Go right inside my boy and make yourself comfortable. Put your luggage in there somewhere. I need to go and prepare for the Off. I’ll come back soon and then we can really get to know each other….” “Sure thing, Sir. And thanks again!” “No thanks necessary my boy. The pleasure will most definitely be mine…”, murmured the fat man. Waving a brief adieu, he waddled off at pace. As he walked back along the platform the man withdrew from the inside pocket of his uniform, a thin cardboard label with string ties and, taking out his pen, he scrawled “Harry’s” on it before tucking in back and patting his pocket. The fat man’s mouth almost drooled and his unnatural heaving heart laboured in his chest as he anticipated the slow unwrapping and heavy, juicy plundering that would be soon taking place… That delicious thought reminded him that he should get a lot of very absorbent towels… The cesspool of the Ticket Collector’s mind was wallowing in mouth watering anticipation of the sights, tastes and scents that would soon be inundating his greedy perverted senses. But best of all would be the most delicious and exquisite sounds the kid would be making before they were finished with him…. *************************************** Harry opened the narrow windowed door to the Ticket Collector’s carriage and entered. As he suspected, it was rather tight and gloomy inside. It was very hot and humid, causing him to break out in a sweat again. A small bed was along one side of the compartment whilst, on the other side was a small desk with various drawers. In one corner was a stove upon which stood a kettle with some metal mugs. Above him was a low roughly painted wooden ceiling in which there were firmly embedded metal rings…. On the floor lay a threadbare and filthy rug that half covered a very dark rusty colored stain that covered almost the entire wood boarded floor. He had barely finished manhandling his suitcase into a corner when he felt a sudden shudder run through the carriage. Hearing a piercing shriek of a whistle and a sudden bellowing whoosh of steam, he rushed out of the carriage door to stand on the small metal platform to watch as the long train started to pull out. Unable to stop grinning from ear to ear, his wide shining eyes took in the crowds on the platforms as the train moved slowly out. People were waving their goodbyes to their loved ones whilst, on other nearby platforms, others were rushing on or off trains to their various destinations. Then, in the middle of the bustling, jostling crowds on the opposite platform, he saw the figure of a lone woman standing stone. She was motionless and seemingly untouched by the sea of humanity around her. She was staring straight at him, a haunted look upon her drawn face. It was the woman he had seen earlier but this time, without her son. The figure emanated such a sense of dreadful loss that Harry found his heart wrenching. Then, as Harry stared at her, she escaped his gaze for a second time after a couple of passing people provided momentary cover. Vaguely troubled anew, Harry shook his head and forcefully dismissed it from his mind by rationalising that by going on the train, he would be going to College AND he had bagged the VIP carriage so obviously nothing could be wrong. As he re-entered the small carriage, he heard a panted greeting and turning, saw the Ticket Collector and the tall Stoker emerge from the last passenger carriage. “Good news, my dear Harry. John has got a replacement to stand in for him so he’s free to chat with us and to show you a few things if you want to become a Stoker. Isn’t that marvellous?” Harry’s eyes widened and shone with excitement. “Gee, that’s amazing. Thank you very much, Sir”, said the boy, his heart thumping with the news. The men followed the boy into the small carriage. The big man turned and surreptitiously locked the door whilst the fat Ticket Collector sat on the small bed and looked up at the standing lad with gleaming eyes. “So my dear boy, here we are in the VIP carriage and as promised, John here will decide if you’re Stoker material so you need to stand still and do exactly what he says. Alright?” Harry grinned and nodded, his heart thumping with excitement. The big man leaned against the wall of the carriage as he appraised Harry slowly from head to toe and back again; his gaze lingering noticeably on the lad’s groin as it travelled in both directions. Harry held his breath and tried to control his heart which unaccountably started beating quite rapidly as he watched the Stoker slowly running his eyes down and up his young fit body. Again, the lad felt a thrill ripple down his skin to coalesce between his legs… “So then, you want to be a Stoker eh?”, said the big man finally. “Oh yes Sir, that would be incredible. I love steam engines!”, chirped Harry, smiling hopefully at the Stoker. The Stoker finally cleared his throat. “Well, as I’ve said, you need to have the right physical attributes to be a Stoker, so let’s see what you’ve got.” “Take your shirt off, boy.” “Yessir!” Harry eagerly started to unfasten the rest of his shirt buttons, keen to get the Stoker’s verdict on whether he would make a good Stoker himself. Both men surreptitiously licked their lips as more of the lad’s smooth strong chest was revealed. Both men watched with gleaming eyes as the boy unfastened the last button and peeled off the flannel shirt. “Oh yes….”, both men murmured appreciatively to Harry’s big delight and pride. A most beautiful sight faced the two perverts as the youngster stood in the small compartment showing a finely muscled young torso that shone slightly due to the warmth within the enclosed space. The feeble light from the small windows reflected off the sixteen year old’s broad tanned chest and lean, tight abs. Long periods of hard work on the farm over the years had paid off, leaving the boy with nicely muscled arms that were perfectly shaped, together with firm, toned pecs which were crowned with full stiff nipples. Harry’s broad shoulders and very narrow waist presented a perfect teenaged male torso showing a gentle six pack which moved deliciously under the lad’s smooth perspiring skin as it adjusted to keep the kid’s balance in the moving compartment. A frayed jockstrap waistband peeked out from the top of the boy’s tight fitting trousers. Harry looked expectantly at the Stoker. “Not bad…..not bad at all, boy…”, husked the Stoker, as he raked his gaze over the lad’s shining chest. “I most definitely agree….”, croaked the fat man, unable to tear his piggy eyes from Harry’s torso. Harry grinned delightfully, his eyes alight with joy at the thought of meeting the big man’s approval and tacit suggestion that he just might be `Stoker material’. “Wow- if I could be a Stoker on a Steam Engine, that would be amazing!!!”. The handsome lad’s open, joyful and happy face sent daggers of lust to both the men’s groins. “But I need to properly assess the fibre of your muscles to be sure.”, said the Stoker appraising the boy in a serious and critical way. Standing in the cramped carriage with his upper body naked in front of two men whose glittering eyes were slowly raking over his chest and torso was strangely thrilling and exciting to the lad, causing him to feel a tightening in his groin. The boy did not want to analyse too much why and so put it down to the amazing adventure he was going through. “Of course, Sir. Whatever you think you need to do…”, said Harry, distracted by trying to ignore the strange feelings that were going through him. “Raise your arms and hold onto the metal loops above you. It will stretch your arm muscles which will then place stress on your chest and core muscles so I can assess them better. In fact, let me help you. I’ll use a bit of rope to help you keep them in position……”. Harry reached up obediently and held onto the rings whilst the Stoker removed a length of cord from his back pocket and lashed the boy’s wrists to the metal rings. The ceiling was quite low so Harry was able to just about stand without tip-toeing whilst his hands were being tied firmly to the rings. Once the man had finished securely binding Harry’s hands thus rendering the boy almost helpless, the two men now took their time to run their greedy shining eyes slowly over the bare chested lad. They both smiled wolfishly as they drank in the sight of the strung up teenaged Adonis. The fat Ticket Collector looked at his friend and winked. “I think our young Harry may have everything we’re looking for, don’t you, John?” “Possibly…”, breathed the big man heavily. Somewhere in the recesses of Harry’s mind, he felt something wasn’t quite right and yet was unable to put a finger on it. He pushed away the feeling. After all, he was in a train full of people with the Stoker and Ticket Collector heading for Birmingham. What could be wrong? He looked expectantly at the Stoker. “Um…is there anything I should do, Sir?” “No boy, just leave everything to me and my friend…..so on to my assessment…”. So saying, the big man reached out with one hand and started to slide it slowly over the lad’s chest whilst, using the other hand, he started to rub up and down Harry’s back. Harry felt the thrilling sensation return as the man’s big calloused hands slowly caressed the back and front of his torso. The sensation of the man’s big rough hands as they strayed and roamed over his chest and abs were not at all unpleasant which vaguely worried the lad because he believed it wasn’t right that another man’s touch should feel good in that way. The big man took his time, slowly tweaking and rubbing the kid’s full nipples that erected under the stimulus. Using his rough thumbs, he repeatedly rubbed and pinched them causing sharp darts of pleasure to shoot toward the kid’s groin. “Unngh..”, moaned the lad though he quickly stifled it. He desperately held his mouth shut to stop any possibility of any further inadvertent moans escaping in case the men thought that he unnaturally enjoyed being touched by another male. Whether that was, in fact, true, was something Harry refused to face himself…. As Harry kept the big Stoker focussed, the fat Ticket Collector found something else to focus on. “And what a lovely pair of trousers you have”, he said staring between Harry’s legs. “They fit you so very well”, crooned the Ticket Collector as his shining beady eyes continued to feast on the young lad’s full fine bulge. Harry had to concentrate hard on what the fat man was saying as the Stoker continued to assess his fitness. He tried to ignore the stinging pleasure that radiated from his nipples, as he replied. “Unnghhh, er…, thank you Sir…um..my Aunt bought them as she thought I needed them at college…unngh….” “Oh yes, most definitely. I think you look very nice in them and I’m sure some of the boys at your college and probably all the Masters there will notice how good they look on you as well…”, breathed the man as he continued to gorge his eyes on kid’s prominent swelling. The lad felt a frisson of excitement as he saw the fat man continue to stare between his legs and he was unable to prevent his excitement from showing. “Oh Lordy….”, moaned the Ticket Collector greedily, his feasting eyes widening as they stared at the young lad’s obvious assets bulging out behind the thin straining material of the lad’s trousers. Unable to resist, the man reached out and placed his fat pudgy hand onto Harry’s full private mound and rubbed it gently. Shock and confusion filled the boy’s handsome face. No person had ever touched him there like that before. Harry eyes darted to the Stoker expecting the big man to react but the lad was dismayed to see the Stoker simply continue to assess his musculature and appear not to think that the fat man was doing anything improper or wierd. “Uuuunnnghh…no….P…please…Sir……what…?” “Oh yes……your Aunt certainly has an eye for quality….I can feel it in the cloth, my boy. It has a lovely thick feel to it…”, said the man as he gently worked the lad’s full mound. “Unnnggghhh…”, moaned the boy as waves of warm pleasure rippled out from Harry’s groin as the fat man continued to work the front of the kid’s tight fitting trousers. “Urrrrgghhh……please…no….unngh..”, moaned the kid, unable to deny the delicious feelings that spread through his loins. “…..yes…lovely material indeed……you can certainly feel the fullness of it…and….yes…definitely the thickness…”. The fat man almost moaned aloud as he now used both hands to grasp and manipulate the clear and obvious bulge that pushed heavily at the front of Harry’s tight fitting trousers. Harry tried desperately not to close his eyes with huge pleasure as both men felt him up. The sixteen year old boy’s hormone riddled body responded and, to the lad’s horror and shame, he felt his cock swell yet further in his tight trousers. “Oh yessss……”, moaned the fat man as he noticed the front of the boy’s trousers were becoming damp with the lad’s reluctant excitement as he really worked the boy’s full package with his strong, pudgy fingers; openly and obscenely molesting the lad. “Unnngggh…noooo….please…”, whimpered the lad uncontrollably as warm waves of pleasure engulfed his full cock and balls and made their way deep to the root of his quivering anus. “The cloth…..oh my God….it feels so very good and…….so…..very…..very…thick….”, breathed the man, licking his lips as his hands continued to work heavily between the kid’s spread and trembling legs. In pathetic desperation and in abject denial of what was truly happening, Harry seized on the Ticket Collector’s words as justification for the man’s action and felt guilty and very ashamed that he was feeling any pleasure at all since it was only another man examining the material of his trousers. Nevertheless, the lad was unable to stop moaning and whimpering his sheer pleasure as the Stoker continued to assess his chest and torso thoroughly; squeezing, rubbing and pinching whilst the seated fat man continued to thoroughly explore the quality of the trouser material…. The sweating lad felt the delicious fingers of orgasm start to tickle deep inside his plump roiling balls causing Harry to seriously fear he might mess himself. “Aaagggh…uunnnghhh…pl..please..Sirs..no…”, moaned the boy as sweat coated his trembling toned torso. This made it easier for the Stoker’s big rough hand to continue to slide slowly all over the boy’s firm toned chest and lean and gently rippled abs. The boy’s fit, sweating, muscular body shuddered with the effort of denying itself the ultimate pleasure of orgasm as Harry was mortally afraid of what the men would say or do if they thought şırnak escort he was a pervert. The fat man, who was also sweating with the excitement and exertion of molesting the boy, realised how close the kid was and so paused, clearing his throat. “Now you mustn’t let John spoil such lovely trousers with his dirty hands. We should take them off to protect them. Here, let me…”. So saying and without asking permission, the Ticket Collector reached up with his hands and started to unbuckle Harry’s trousers and then started to work the top fly button open. The boy moaned with dread. He was petrified that the men would see the state of his cock and see him as a sick unnatural queer. “Please…sir….no……oh….God…nooo…uuurggghh…uuunnnghhh!”, panted the lad. “Nonsense, we must protect your lovely trousers especially as your Aunt spent good money on them”, murmured the man as he proceeded to slowly unfasten each of the fly buttons, pausing each time to fondle Harry’s full and bulging lunchbox, relishing each unfastening… The fat man’s eyes bulged as he finally pulled aside the flaps of the moaning boy’s trousers. What pushed out from the open files caused the fat man to smile, his eyes to widen and to lick his lips hungrily. “Oh my God….”, moaned the man, his shining eyes feasting on what they beheld. A worn, soiled and very damp jockstrap pouch bulged obscenely outwards from the kid’s open flies. The impressive outline of the lad’s full length of thick teen meat was clearly highlighted by the thin stretched rubber and cotton meshed material that was moulded like a second skin to the boy’s full equipment. The thick length throbbed with need and the elasticity of the meshed pouch was pushed to its maximum as it strained mightily to contain the boy’s thick throbbing tool and plum sized balls that roiled and churned, pregnant with creamy produce. Harry’s face flamed with shame and dread at the man’s exclamation. “I…I’m…s..s..sorry..sir..”, stuttered the lad as he tried to explain his outrageous condition. The fat man looked up at the mortified boy,his shining sweating face alight with greedy joy. “Nonsense my boy, there are no women here are there? So there’s nothing wrong at all- it’s only us men.”, said the fat man as he pulled down Harry’s trousers and removed them. “You’re a young, healthy, strapping lad- it’s quite natural and quite proper to have a big manly outline. All Stokers have manly outlines. John has a very manly outline as well and he’ll be showing you his soon….just to put you at ease, of course…” At the man’s words, Harry felt relief flooding through him that the men didn’t seem to think him weird, though he wasn’t sure it was necessary for John to show him anything…. “Now that we don’t need to worry about dirtying your fine trousers, John can continue to properly assess you…”, said the fat man as he put the trousers to one side and then looked at John. Harry missed the look between the Ticket Collector and the Stoker. “Spread your legs a bit boy, I’ll need to assess them to see how they cope with lateral tensions”, said the Stoker. “Y…yessir….”, said Harry, feeling reassured by the Ticket Collector’s words. The big man surreptitiously dropped some cord which the fat man used to quickly tie the lad’s ankles to the stands of the bed and desk. Now that the boy was absolutely helpless, both men allowed themselves to smile openly and lasciviously at the strung up, sweating and virtually naked lad. “Now that’s very nice……”, they both said in unison, their hungry eyes raking the boy slowly from top to bottom, pausing to stare long and hungrily at the stretched pouch of the boy’s soiled underwear that barely held the kid’s heavy swollen equipment. Both men licked their lips as they gorged their gleaming eyes on the boy’s offering. The Stoker breathed heavily, “Yes indeed boy….very nice bulges..”. Moving close to the kid, the Stoker’s exploring hand slid down the length of Harry’s back and then continued downward, under the straps of the kid’s underwear and over the boy’s tight trembling buns where they gripped and clutched his tight smooth cheeks. “Urghh…pleaseeee….noo..”, whispered the kid, his voice full of dread. “Oh yes, boy, you have a good tone in your glutes which is what you’ll need to stand and keep your balance as you stoke the furnace”, rumbled the big man. “And as I said, all Stokers have big manly outlines so I think you certainly qualify there, my dear Harry…”, breathed the Ticket Collector. So saying, the fat man reached out with both hands that trembled slightly and started to massage Harry’s bulging jockstrap pouch causing the mesh material to rub hard against the kid’s swollen cockhead. “Aaagggh…uunnnghhh…pl..please..Sir..no…”, moaned the boy anew. “I love a handsome, muscular, young lad in a jockstrap, it’s so deliciously male…..”, moaned the fat man as he leaned forward and pressed his nose heavily against the sticky, bulging pouch and inhaled deeply. “Mmmmm…what a delightful scent of fresh young lad…”, breathed the man. “Oh God….please…Noooo….!!”, moaned Harry, certain now that something was terribly wrong. As the big steam train cheerfully chugged through the lovely autumnal countryside, the passengers couldn’t possibly know or imagine what was unfolding in the tiny end carriage. No sane passenger on the train would have imagined that the small carriage held a tied up and totally helpless teenaged boy who had been stripped and was being sexually violated and molested by two monstrous perverts that knew no boundaries to slaking their unnatural lusts. Inside the hot fetid `VIP’ carriage, the big Stoker dug the tip of his tongue deep into the Harry’s ear, reaming it. “Uuurghhh…..noo…ooh…”, moaned the kid, hating it and yet unable to deny the thrilling darts of sexual pleasure that went straight between his legs. “If you want to be a good Stoker, you need to really be `one’ with the Steam Engine….”, murmured the man as he as he started to slide his long, thick, middle finger down the sweating crack of Harry’s ass and along the bottom of the kid’s slick, savory valley. “Uuurggnnnghhh…please….no…uuurrgh…”, gurgled Harry as he felt the Stoker’s finger probe around his quivering sweating anus. Meanwhile, the fat sitting man, whilst firmly gripping the tops of Harry’s legs, was heavily lapping at the boy’s obscenely bulging jockstrap pouch, lustily moaning his appreciation of the sweet, sticky boy liquor that oozed out through the thin stretched material. “Urrrhh…..Unnnnngghhhh….”, gasped the fit, sweating lad. His mind was terribly conflicted. He knew what was happening was strange and terribly, terribly wrong and yet……….yet his baser mind revelled and bathed in the unending waves of pleasure that continually rippled through his young, finely muscled body. “Aaarghh…uungh…noooo…please…!” The boy’s abs moved and squirmed deliciously under the smooth sweating skin of his lean torso as he helplessly tried to avoid the molesting, probing fingers of the two men. He hated their outrageous intrusion and yet……….he loved and craved the purest pleasure that the two men were giving him. “You need to think like a Steam Engine to know how to stoke it properly. You need to BE the Steam Engine Harry….”, breathed the Stoker in Harry’s ear. “Imagine boy……..you ARE the Steam Engine…” The boy was sweating freely now, the whole front of his young muscled torso was shiny with perspiration that trickled down his front and back, soaking his jockstrap waistband and pouch, and dripping down into the hot steaming crack between his tight young buns. The boy felt the exquisite hot pleasure of the man’s big finger as it massaged the entrance to his most private of chambers. “There’s only one small opening through which the Stoker can stoke the fire in you, to give you what you need, what you crave. You can feel it can’t you lad?” “Unnnghh….yes…sir…I feel it….”, moaned the kid, instinctively trying to spread his legs slightly further apart, mesmerised by the mans’ low hypnotic voice and overwhelmed by the immense pleasure he was feeling. “Your strong young body is raring to go, you feel the need deep in your hot fiery depths. Your big thick funnel needs to spurt out it’s hot white steam….you’re just waiting to be filled with the right stuff to really get you going”. Harry moaned deeply, instinctively trying to back onto the Stoker’s probing fingers, wanting and somehow needing the deep penetrating pleasure….. “You feel the burning ache deep in your young fit body – you’re really wanting it, gagging for it…aren’t you boy?” “Yessir….uuurghh…please…..give it to me….ungh…”. “Then take it boy”, grunted the big man as he slowly pushed two of his thick calloused fingers into the lad’s steaming aperture and into the kid’s most sacred chamber. The tied youngster’s eyes flew open and his mouth opened in a gasp. “Aaarghhh…Uuuurghhh…!!!!!!!!!!”, screamed the kid as he thrashed and twisted on the ropes binding his hands to the overhead rings. With drool oozing from his lips, the fat man continued to maul and manipulate the lad’s sticky, crammed, package…. “Uuuuuurggggghhh….aaarrrrghh…….”, gurgled the hanging lad, his eyes closed and his back arched as delicious waves of pleasure rippled upwards and outwards from his cock and balls and anus as the big man continued to slowly sink his fingers deeper and deeper into the hot fiery depths of the moaning, sweating, writhing boy. The kid’s arched taught body served only to push his groin further into the clutching and manipulating hands of the Ticket Collector. “Oh…God…Oh….God….nooo…uuurgghhh…nnghhhh…………please………”, moaned Harry as the delicious flames of incipient orgasm licked along the thick length of his cock and at the root of his full roiling balls. “Oh yes…really give it to the lad..”, goaded the Ticket Collector feeling the further swelling and throbbing of the lad’s length as he squeezed and massaged the boy’s thick heavy tool. Looking at the Stoker he barked quickly. “Make the boy cream now, I want to season my first souvenir.” The Stoker nodded and, shifting his hand to get the best angle, he pushed his fingers up to the third knuckle into the boy’s burning insides whilst simultaneously using his other hand to pinch Harry’s nipples hard. “Aaaarggggghhhh!!”, screamed the kid. The fingers deep in Harry’s anus found and deeply massaged the swollen ripe fuck nut that lay hidden inside the kid’s depths. Detonation took place and Harry back arched taught against the ropes that held his arms and legs. “NOOOOO!!!!!” He screamed as a tsunami of orgasmic waves of pleasure exploded within him. “AAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHH….!!!!!!!!!!!” His whole young, fit body convulsed and jerked violently against the ropes that held him fast as his young loins jerked back and forward spasmodically, pumping jet after jet of thick creamy juice into and through the jockstrap pouch material. “That’s right, boy. Blow that fine funnel of yours…”, moaned the Stoker in Harry’s ear as he deeply and repeatedly impaled the boy with his thick rough fingers and pinched the kid’s full nipples hard. “Aaaaargggghhh…..uuuuurrrrggghhhh….” “Oh…Yessssss……”, moaned the fat man as he rubbed his face all over the bulging throbbing pouch as white thick juice continued to pulse thickly out of it with force, coating the Ticket Collector’s fat face with creamy boy essence. The Stoker continued to work his long thick fingers in and out of the moaning, jerking and convulsing boy, sinking them up to the third knuckle repeatedly triggering Harry’s roiling, churning balls to churn out their creamy flood. “Uuuuuurrrrrggggghhhh…….!”, gurgled the strung up, jerking lad as his powerful loins kept pumping young male cream into and through his sodden underwear…. For two long minutes, the men continued to work the front and back of the moaning sweating kid ensuring all the juicy male goodness had been extracted. As the quietly moaning boy hung, exhausted, the fat man took out a pair of scissors and carefully cut the waistband and straps of the boy’s drenched jockstrap and then, handling the soaked underwear carefully, he folded it up into a small plastic bag. Harry moaned low, as the last defence was taken from him leaving him helplessly tied, his lean, sweat drenched body totally naked in front of the two men. His slimy, oozing, half hard equipment hung heavily between his trembling legs. The fat man, his face coated with sweat and the lad’s cum, greedily drank up the sight of the kid’s heavy bloated half-hard, oozing cock that swung heavily with the movement of the carriage. “Oh my, what a beautiful big thick cock you have for a 16 year old. I would say it’s 6 inches long and it’s not even fully hard. The Masters at your college won’t know what they’ll have missed….” He reached out and grasped Harry’s slick heavy cock in one hand and started to slide it back and forth and, with the other, he manipulated and squeezed the boy’s plump hanging balls. “Uuuurggghh….no…..!”, moaned Harry as the man commenced working his cock and balls with vigour. Leaning forward, the fat man commenced to lick the swollen head with his rough wide tongue. Harry was unable to prevent a loud moan of reluctant pleasure to escape his lips. “Uuuuuurrrgggghhhh……Nooo….please…no…uunnghhh….pleassse..”, panted Harry. Meanwhile, the Stoker resumed working his big thick fingers in and out of the boy’s slick, sticky back passage, prodding the kid’s swollen fucknut, keeping the kid on a sexual high. The lad’s agonised moans of sexual torment were lost in the rattling, gyrating compartment as it travelled through the beautiful autumnal countryside. Inside the small, rattling, fetid carriage, the moaning, handsome teenager squirmed and twisted helplessly as the two men sexually molested his muscled, sweating body. The men said nothing to each other, only grunting occasionally with hungry pleasure as their sexual assaults forced the boy’s moaning to increase in pitch and tempo as the kid’s sexual torment escalated to new levels. The efforts of the lust driven men were rewarded as Harry’s young, hormone riddled body inevitably reacted. “Oh fuck, YESS….!”, moaned the seated man as his greedy gleaming eyes gorged upon the lad’s swelling, lengthening meat that he was slowly working whilst firmly massaging and squeezing the boy’s plump roiling balls. “What a beautiful body….so youthful……so full of juicy need…”, breathed the fat Collector as the boy’s thick 7″ cock finally throbbed firm and hard against the kid’s tight, rippled abs, oozing clear sweet nectar from the juicy wide piss slit. Grasping it by the base and holding it away from the lad’s toned torso, the Ticket Collector held Harry’s thick member like a lolly pop and commenced to slowly drag his heavy flat tongue from the base, up the thick trunk and then across the plum sized head and wide drooling piss slit. “Ooooohhhh…….uuuurgggghhhh….noooooo….aaaarrgghh….uuurrggghh….”, moaned the sweating teen, his head thrown back and his eyes tightly shut as the waves of hot pleasure engulfed his throbbing cock. The sweating, writhing lad strained against the fastenings in vain as the fat man licked the kid’s throbbing meat whilst squeezing and manipulating the full churning balls. Menawhile, the big Stoker continued to work his fingers deeply in the boy’s sticky, hot anal passage. “Uuuurgh….unnnggghhh…please…..No…..more..uurghh…”, gurgled Harry as, yet again, he felt the ignition of a sweet delirious pleasure blossom deep at the root of his quivering anus. The Stoker grunted with lascivious heat as he breathed into Harry’s ear. “You’ve got a hot tight pussy furnace, boy. I’m gonna be in heaven stoking your engine…”. So saying, the big man pushed his thick rough fingers as deeply as he could into the boy’s hot, clutching depths and rubbed the fat swollen gland in Harry’s young heated body. “Unnnnngghhhhh…Nooooo…Uuuurgghh…..!!”, gurgled the built taksim escort male teen, his head thrown back in absolute pleasure as his sweat drenched, tight rippled torso quivered in taut reluctant delight as the big man deeply impaled the lad’s back entrance over and over again, manipulating the boy’s roiling, pregnant fucknut for all it was worth. The fat man stuck the tip of his agile tongue into the boy’s oozing piss slit and reamed it good and proper. It took the lad over the edge again. “Aaaarggggghhhh!!!!”, screamed the kid as he was unable to stop his body from climaxing again under the thick molesting fingers of the two perverted men. Once again, the strung up lad arched his back in extreme pleasure as orgasm seized total control of his young, sweating, muscled body. The fat man could feel the further swelling of the Harry’s thick throbbing meat and knob end and quickly locked his greedy lips around the boy’s fat cockhead just in time to catch the thick rich volleys of sweet young male cream as they shot out again and again with force from the lad’s fat, jerking, pulsing cockhead. “Urrrrrrggghhhhhhh….Aaaarghhh….oh…God….Unnnnghhh…!!” The full forceful volleys of creamy male liquor repeatedly hit the back of the man’s throat and tonsils and totally flooded and filled the greedy grunting man’s mouth. “Mmmmmmmmmm”, moaned the man, his lips sealed around the boy’s jerking meat while gulping and swallowing as quickly as possible to capture all the rich creamy goodness that was shooting out of the young lad’s writhing, jerking, sweating loins. The feasting man clutched and worked the boy’s roiling, pulsing balls as they churned out volley after volley of pure male ambrosia. The Stoker kept ramming his thick fingers in and out of the youngster’s tight, convulsing, sticky passage, punishing Harry’s fuck nut mercilessly ….. “Uuuurgghhh…..Unnnngggghhh….!”, gurgled the teen as the orgasmic waves passed through him and, finally, to leave the kid half hanging from his wrists in exhaustion. The Ticket Collector continued to work and milk the lad’s heavy half hard cock licking off the final drops of viscous sweetness before, finally and almost reluctantly released the boy’s heavy member. Licking his lips a final time, the fat man looked up at the exhausted trembling youth. “That was delicious, my dear Harry. Truly tasty. Thank you my boy, it gives me another nice memory to hang on to”, said the man as he daintily wiped his lips with a handkerchief. “And, of course, this lovely first souvenir will be a fragrant keepsake”, continued the man as he touched the small plastic bag which contained Harry’s sodden jockstrap. So saying, the fat man pulled out a large knapsack from under the bed into which he placed the bag. Harry watched the man with widening eyes as he saw the Ticket Collector take out a cardboard label which he tied to the knapsack. “You see Harry, the label even has your name on it….” A little patter of small cold feet started to take their first tentative steps down Harry’s back as he stared at the man who then pulled out another knapsack which Harry could see had another label with the name, “Mark” scrawled on it. “You see, I like to keep two souvenirs from each of my boys.”, said the Ticket Collector conversationally, as though it were over an afternoon cup of tea. “This one holds both the souvenirs I have of Mark. He was 16 like you and he was also a very handsome and fit lad too. Co-incidentally, he was also bound for the same college as you. What a small world…”, joked the fat man. The man smiled fondly and licked his lips absently with the memory of the boy. “So bright and with such a cheeky personality and lovely big blue eyes. Blond wavy hair and such an open, charming grin. And such a lovely, tight muscled body, just like yours….” “My handsome Mark made such wonderful sounds at the end…..though my goodness, he did go on a bit……..” The steps down Harry’s back started to speed up… The man pulled out a similar small plastic bag from the second knapsack. Opening the plastic bag, the fat man stuck his nose into it and inhaled deeply. “Aaahhh…such an exquisite scent. It brings all the memories of my beautiful Mark back…” “But the second souvenir I have of Mark is the best…”, burbled the man cheerfully as he withdrew a large glass jar and held it up for Harry’s inspection. “Mark, just like you, my dear boy, also had very big manly equipment that was so beautifully formed, though, in fairness to you, I think yours may just have the edge. Only just, mind.”. The man jokingly waved an admonishing finger at Harry and winked. But, to the staring boy, the wink contained purest evil and total insanity. “Interestingly he had a birthmark near the base of his lovely long, thick cock. It looked a bit like a half moon. If you look carefully, Harry, you can see it. Here, I’ll turn the jar a bit…..” Harry stared at the item in the jar, unable to understand what it was he was supposed to be looking at. The jar was full of liquid and something else. As he stared at it, a crazy, lunatic thought germinated in his mind and of course, he dismissed it. It couldn’t be that…. The steps down his back started to race up and down his spine at a breakneck speed. His eyes bugged and he felt his stomach turn and his small intestines clutched hard by a frighteningly cold fist. Harry realised he was looking at a large swollen cock and a plump set of attached balls in what must have been some sort of preservative fluid. It was stuffed tightly into the jar and just as the fat man pointed out, there was a small half moon shaped mark near the base of the thick pale member. Harry realised he had become disabled with the horror of it all and only the ropes that tied his wrists to the hoops in the ceiling prevented him from collapsing. He felt himself voiding his bladder and was unable to stop it. His eyes were wide and staring, disbelieving and yet horribly believing at the same time. So horrified by what he was seeing, the lad did not notice the Stoker undress and only at the last did he see the big man staring at him with black dead eyes, stroking his enormous thick 9 inch dripping log. The Ticket Collector glanced at his watch and grinned at Harry in a slightly crazy way. Gesturing toward his friend, John, the fat man purred. “As you can see, John here is going to give you a bloody good stoking and when he’s just about to blow his big funnel in you, he’ll let me know and that will be the sign for me to take my second souvenir.” The Ticket Collector paused and cocked his head to one side, frowning slightly. “I don’t know why John wants it done so precisely that way. He says it’s something that your inside muscles do to his funnel once I start to cut away at your cock and balls. I don’t quite understand it but it gives him pleasure and that’s the main thing isn’t it? “Oh yes…that reminds me…I must get the towels out. We rather let Mark hose down almost the entire floor making a big stain the last time…and we wouldn’t want to make the same mistake again would we?” The fat man laid out thick towels beneath and around Harry’s spread legs and withdrew a small boning knife from a drawer. Harry shook his head violently from side to side, his mind frozen and bereft of reason, he drooled with abject horror at what was about to happen. The Ticket Collector checked his watch. “We’re about to hit one of the longest tunnels in the country which takes about 15 minutes to travel through. But don’t worry my dear boy, the train makes such a frightful noise in the tunnel that the passengers won’t hear any noise we may make. So please Harry, when the time comes, feel free to scream as much as you like if it makes you feel better….” Holding the boning knife, he nodded to John who licked his lips and moved behind the strung up boy. With a huge shrieking sound, the train plunged into the tunnel and into total darkness. What feeble light there was from a very low wattage bulb, illuminated a tableaux of total horror. It showed a strung up lad whose private parts were being pulled out from his body by a fat crouching man with a small boning knife poised for a downward journey. Behind the kid was a large and hugely muscled man holding the lad’s hips and about to impale him with a monstrous sized phallus… At this point, young Harry’s mind broke and he started screaming…. The lad screamed into the enveloping darkness and in the extremis of his terror and desperation, he instinctively screamed out the only thing he could think of. “MA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” **************************************************************** Harry was fighting in the cloying darkness. He was fighting against powerful evil forces that held his hands and legs, dragging him down. His heart was bursting with the effort of fleeing, escaping, struggling against something huge and totally evil in the stygian blackness of his enclosed surroundings. And then…….then he heard something that made his young pounding heart leap with desperate hope. He heard his Mother’s voice from a long distance, yet coming rapidly closer……soothing…calming…supporting. “Harry! Harry! My darling boy….you’re safe! I’m here….Harry….please……Wake Up! Harry burst awake, screaming and wild eyed and then, as the truth registered, cried loudly in abject relief in his Aunt’s cradling arms. ****************************************************************** It all spilled out that night as Harry related the nightmare to his horrified Aunt. He remembered it all and left no detail out and, in his need to expunge all of his most intimate fears and worries that the nightmare had exposed, he sobbingly told the only person he trusted in the world, his deepest, darkest secret that, at the time he lived in, he could never, ever tell anyone else. After the telling, his young heart was totally rent and exposed…. And much, much later, as Harry, finally felt himself falling into a comfortable natural sleep, he held on to the words of his Aunt, the words which had made him strong again. “The one true happiness in this world is to love and to be loved. This is what your Mum and I want for you. That you find a person, be it a boy or a girl, whom you can love with your whole being and who loves you totally in return. If this were a better world, everyone would agree.” “So now, be brave and happy my precious boy. Your dear Mum will always be your Guardian Angel. She’s so proud of her beautiful boy who is now a very handsome young man who can face the world and be strong for her just as she will always be strong for you. You are so much like your Mum in every way and you will carry her spirit with you into the world.” ****************************************************************** The bright sunlight that shone down on the large entrance to Paddington Station helped drive away the nightmare of the previous night as Harry entered, wearing his boyish grin, his eyes alight with a new found excitement at the prospect of new adventures awaiting him in Birmingham. As he struggled along with his rather heavy suitcase, he passed a newspaper man whom he winked at, causing the man to smile and salute good-naturedly back. The newspaper man needed something to cheer him up that morning as the papers held the headline proclaiming the loss of the 1958 England – Soviet Union match. As Harry passed by, he slowed down as it dawned on him that he had just done what he did in his nightmare of the previous night. A tickle of unease prickled his mind and he back-tracked to look at the newspaper headline. Heaving a sigh of relief and realising it must have been sheer coincidence, Harry moved on regaining the spring in his step. As he made for the concourse, a strange feeling of a parallel reality merging with the present took over as he overheard, as though from afar, the last bit of a nearby conversation. “…Oh my….he’s quite a looker and no mistake!” As though suddenly back in his nightmare, he jerkily turned his head to catch the identical view of the two passing teenaged girls appraising him. Harry felt a dizziness flood through his fevered mind and he swayed as a rising tide of horror tickled the edges of his heart with cold fingers…. He felt himself tipping forward and unable to stop it from happening when suddenly, the steadying arms of another person stopped him. “Hey mate…you OK?” Harry found himself looking into two big, blue eyes that shone with concern as they observed him. Harry took in the shock of wavy blond hair of the sturdy lad who kept his steadying strong hands on Harry to ensure his safety. “Ugh…erm…gee, thanks….not sure what happened there”, muttered Harry as he pulled back slightly to gain a better view of his saviour. Harry’s eyes widened, believing that he somehow knew the young, good looking blond lad who stood before him. “Um….er….I’m Harry and…er..thanks for…you know…stopping me from being a fool….”, he said awkwardly, remembering his manners and extending his hand in greeting. When the blond lad returned the handshake with a firm grip and a broad, cheeky but open and happy smile, Harry was certain he knew him, causing his heart to leap and his mind to wobble with disbelief and surreal amazement. He knew what the boy would say next. “I’m Mark, and you’re more than welcome…”, beamed the handsome, fit looking young man as his bright blue eyes surveyed Harry’s face with happy openness and a deep but gentle appraisal. The loud chaotic concourse faded around him as Harry experienced a strange epiphanous moment. He felt he was standing at the crossroads of his existence and, in one supreme moment, he felt he held the power of the universe in his hands. He knew he was able to control his destiny. A feeling of massive authority together with a powerful righteous spirit filled his being and he spoke to Mark with a voice and conviction that didn’t feel his own, but those of someone else. “Mark, we’re not going on the 9:20 train to Birmingham, we’re going on the later service at 12:30pm. It will get us there in safety and we’ll still get to Winston College in plenty of time. So we’ll go now and grab a sandwich and a cuppa tea – my treat, and we’ll get to know each other when I can properly thank you.” The blond lad was too stunned by Harry’s manner and seeming knowledge of his own movements to protest as Harry ushered him away from the concourse toward the station exit. As they left the concourse, Harry felt an urge to glance backward and he was not particularly surprised to see the young, slim woman of his nightmare smiling at him with shining eyes, out of which poured all the love in the world. Beside her stood, not her eight year old son, but a big, strong, handsome Steam Train Driver with jet black hair who also looked at him with huge, huge fondness and a powerful paternal love…. Harry turned away with shining moist eyes and immeasurable joy. He knew exactly what his eyes had been gazing at. He felt his heart about to burst with love and, for the first time in his life, Harry felt truly complete. ********************************** EPILOGUE Harry and Mark became firm friends at college. The friendship developed and, in time, knew no bounds. The boys were also very popular with the other students and the Masters were particularly keen to help each of the boys, offering private one-to-one tuition sessions at the Masters homes. In the tuition sessions, the Masters gained deep joy seeing how quickly the boys were always able to fully grow and produce good results in response to the stimulus that was applied and, in return, it was clear to the Masters how much pleasure each lad also gained from the instruction as the output from such sessions was prodigious… The intimate and deeply confidential relationship between Harry and Mark flourished against the odds and when the United Kingdom decriminalised homosexuality later in 1967, they enjoyed the rest of their lives together openly with a deep, complete and endless love. Over the years, in the dead of night, some half forgotten memory of a thing dressed in a Ticket Collectors uniform would occasionally steal into Harry’s mind, causing him to unaccountably break out in a sweat and a slight tremble until, feeling the warm protective embrace of his beloved Mark beside him, he would drive it from his mind and continue with his blessed life. The ail

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