To Chris: A half a Nation separates us, but our hearts beat on in unison like a fine art. You hold a special place in my heart that has been empty for along time until we first met I see now I made the right choice on saving that place for you my friend. Thanks for everything.
Please E mail me your comments: at Swarri1349@aol.com

MY LITTLE STOWAWAY

When I was done, I realized I still had a while to wait before we would be departing, the appointed time being approximately eleven o'clock PM. Motivated by a sincere desire to avoid boredom, I busied myself checking over the interior of the caboose, making sure there was fuel for the little cooking stove on the chance of a delay along the line, water for the same situation, batteries for the lights, and blankets for the bunk. As I finished, finding everything in order and to my liking, the brake man approached me, handing me a small two way radio in case I had need to call the other train personnel, or just wanted listen to what was going on.

As the time of departure approached I heard the distinct sound of the horn blowing loudly at the front of the long train, soon followed by a shuddering sensation as the large metal beast jerked into moving life - the trip back was begun and we were slowly rolling out of the train yard. I was sitting up top, in the cupola, watching the scenery pass by as well as gazing on as the small towns and hamlets of central Alabama first grew up and then rushed passed to grow small and distant once more.

Not long after our initial departure from the Alabama rail yards the engineer slowed and then stopped the train so that additional freight cars could be added. My car, being the caboose, was uncoupled and directed to a side railing as the rail crew went about their business. I had opened the doors of the caboose and was sitting in darkness, enjoying the summer night and lightly dozing.

As I sat there, half asleep, I became aware of the sound of timid footsteps on the metal steps leading to the rear of the platform. Presently, a young looking blond haired boy appeared out of the darkness and tiptoed into my car. Apparently he had seen the car and assumed that since it was unlit, it must also be empty. Quietly, not wanting to alert him to my presence just yet, I watched as he set a small worn bag on the big oak desk in the compartment, and then slip tiredly into the chair behind it. Shortly after the boy had settled himself, I heard the brake man's voice call out followed by the slight jolt as the train reattached itself to the caboose. Almost immediately we began moving forward again, this time taking a stowaway with us.

A short while later I glanced at the speed dial and found that we were moving at about 50 miles an hour. Quietly I slipped down the metal rungs of the ladder leading from the cupola to the bottom floor of the car. On silent feet I walked up behind the handsome blond boy and tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jump nearly five feet straight up into the air. Turning around once he had placed his feet on the ground once more, he looked at me and I could see in his eyes that he was terrified. "What," I asked, after stepping up in front of him, "are you doing in my caboose, sitting behind my desk in sandals and raggie cut offs?" The golden haired youth continued simply to stare at me, shaking with fear at having been found out. Unable to stand, he sat on the desk behind him.

I'm not exactly a big guy, standing only 5'9 and weighing 145lbs. I must have been quite a site to a scarred runaway teenager though, even wearing jeans, a short sleeve button up shirt and steel toed boots with  a radio clipped to my belt completing the 'uniform.' Standing there in the near darkness, the only illumination being the moonlight that was streaming through  the windows and the open door, I could tell that my little stow away was about 130 pounds, and about 5'7, maybe 5'8 and possessed of a very well formed physique.

I decided to play the stern railroad man until I could find out what exactly it was that this boy was doing on my caboose. Wanting to be able to see him better, I reached over to the desk behind him and turned on the lamp sitting there, washing the interior of the caboose in a flood of pale yellow light. In the glow of the lamp,  I could see how truly scared he was, shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm. I softened my voice, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Boy," I began, "you know what your doing is against the law don't you?"

"Yes, sir." He responded, "I do."

"Then you're running away." I stated matter of factly.

"How do you know that?" He asked, still scared.

"For one, this train doesn't make any more stops in Alabama. Also, there is the small hint of the bag. Just what do you have in there anyway?"

"Yes sir," he spoke quietly, "I'm running away. Happy now? So just tell them to stop the fucking train and I'll get off. Or better yet I can jump. No one  gives a fuck about me anyway." By now he had started to cry and was attempting to stand, grabbing onto his tattered bag as tears leaked down his cheeks. Turning off my radio and placing it on the desk I sat down in the large chair and then took hold of his arm.

"Sit." I told him simply when he turned to face me.

"Where?"

"Here." I said answered, pulling him down so he was sitting sideways in my lap. "We need to have a talk. First of all, the train isn't stopping. Second, you are not jumping. In fact, you aren't going anywhere." Reaching over to the lamp I turned the switch again and the second bulb sprang to life, throwing even more light upon the handsome face of the blond boy sitting in my lap. As I looked at him, I saw him for the first time as more than a stowaway. He was a scared young boy with tearstained cheeks, soft looking pink lips and sad green eyes.

"What is your name?" I asked gently, then added, "And please, don't lie to me."

He answered in a soft voice, still staring at his hands folded in his lap. "Peter, sir."

"Not sir. My name is Steve. Okay?"

"Okay, Steve." Peter said, smiling faintly and looking at me. "Steve, why does this train have a caboose anyway? I though they weren't used anymore. In fact this is the first train I've seen with a caboose in a long time. And of course with my luck it would be an occupied caboose."

I laughed at his last comment. "My railroad bought this caboose for use on a short line railroad in Mississippi. And since I am a partial owner and have decided to let you be my guest, you are not trespassing." I smiled.

Relieved, Peter sighed in relief. I even felt him relax for the first time since I'd surprised him earlier. "And now," I said, gently gesturing for Peter to get up, "we are merely two friends, sharing a train ride through Alabama." I stood up myself, motioning towards the ladder I had descended a few minutes ago. "Let's climb up top to the cupola and enjoy the fresh air, the ride, and each other's company. And you can tell me what a cute boy like you has to run away from."

Reaching the top, I found him crouching in the confined space, wondering what to do. I motioned towards one of the two old leather chairs facing towards each other, illuminated in the near darkness by the moonlight slanting in from the window. With the soft clickety clack of the wheels on the rails as accompaniment, Peter told his story. "Tonight, at the dinner table, I had a fight with my step-father. He... he threatened to kill me."

"Why?" I asked, shocked.

"Because, all he sees when he looks at me is a queer little faggot. There's no place in his world for my kind." Peter's voice choked on the last word, and tears began once more to leak down his face, cutting fresh trails in the dirt and road dust.

Gently I leaned forward, and wiped the tears from his face, causing him to look up at me. "I gu-guess you want me off the t-train now, huh?" He hiccoughed miserably.

"No Peter, I don't." I responded, heartbroken.

"Why Steve?" he asked staring at his lap again.

"Because Peter. There is more to a person than who he loves. And love is never a good reason to hate someone. Besides, in your step-father's eyes, I'm a queer little faggot too."

He looked up, smiling. "You're gay?"

"Yes Peter, my boy, I am."

Slowly, Peter raised himself on shaky legs and walked over next to me. "Please," he said timidly, "will you hold me Steve?"

Gently I pulled him down into my lap, stroking his hair and kissing his tear stained cheeks. "My boy, you are handsome and smart. No one should hate you for what you are."

I sat there in the chair, holding Peter and listening to the click-clack of the rails as the wheels rushed on. The light of the full moon reflected of his beautiful green eyes, making them sparkle like deep emeralds. I could see in his eyes that he felt safe, no longer threatened by what he had run from. Minutes passed like long, wonderful hours, and yet a half an hour later the time seemed to have just slipped by. Turning in my arms, Peter kissed me full on the lips, taking me just as fully by surprise - a testament to Peter however, I recovered very quickly.

Our tongues danced around, tasting each other, and exploring each other's mouths. Peter tasted simultaneously of honey, and lingering fear. Our lips parted, and Peter went limp against my chest, smiling. Carefully I removed his sweat stained shirt and let it drop to the floor. Slowly I began to rub my hands over his smooth chest, using my fingers to circle his pink nipples, causing them to harden. His smile widened and he let out a soft moan of pleasure. Slowly he unbuttoned my shirt, rubbing his hands through the hair on my chest, and playing with my nipples like they were wonderful little toys.

There was only barely enough room for the two of us to sit in the top of the old caboose, let alone do anything more strenuous, so I told Peter follow me back down the ladder. When we reached the bottom I led him to the bunk I had intended to sleep alone in. I sat him on the bed, then flicked of the lights on the desk. When I returned I carefully removed his sandals and then his socks, letting my hands explore his feet and calves, feeling the fine almost silk like hair on his legs. Slowly I let my hands up further, to the insides of his thighs, drinking in the feeling of his velvety soft skin.

Leaning up, I kissed him again, tasting the sweet flavor of his mouth once more as I pressed myself against his willing lips. Breathing through my nose so I wouldn't have to break the kiss, I soon caught the sweet scent of sweat as a light sheen of it slowly began to glisten over his entire body. Slowly I pulled myself away from his lips, and began to work my tongue down his neck and to his chest. Peter moaned when I placed my mouth over his right nipple, nipping it gently. He moaned again when I repeated the action on his left nipple, running my tongue around the delicious pink bud. Slowly I ran my tongue down his smooth boyish chest to his belly button, teasing it with my tongue and tasting the sweat that had accumulated there. Slowly I worked my tongue lower and lower, until finally I had come to the top of his jeans.

I ran my hand over the bulge in the tight fabric, and he moaned loudly. Carefully I unbuttoned them, and slid them off his legs. For a moment I was captivated by the site of him completely naked at last. Teasingly I rubbed his cockhead and balls, watching as they jerked at the sensations. I licked up the underside of his young boy meat, and Peter moaned again. Moving my head down I sucked his right, hairless testicle into my mouth, causing him to jerk. I let his right testicle out of my mouth, and quickly replaced it with the the left. He moaned again. With a care not to scrape him with my teeth, I carefully sucked both testicles into my mouth, and a wave of tingles raced up his spine, overwhelming his young body and making him completely mine. He no longer had a will of his own, he belonged entirely to me, responding only to the ministrations of my hot tongue. I took the head of his hot young meat into my mouth, and played my tongue along the shaft until I had his entire throbbing boyhood in my mouth. His blonde pubic hairs tickled my chin as I sucked deeply, and held his balls in my hand. He was breathing quickly, as moans of pleasure escaped his sweet lips.

"I'm cumming," he moaned. Quickly I pulled back until only his head was still in my mouth. I tightened my grip on his balls, and he shot his sweet cum into my waiting mouth. I drank it down like a fine wine, so sweet so wonderful. Slowly I let his softening boyhood out of my mouth. Letting him taste his own seed, I kissed him deeply.

Standing, I unfastened my own jeans, and then removed my boots. Peter's eyes were fastened on my rigid cock. "Can I suck your rod?" He asked. Without waiting for an answer he licked at the head of my cock, teasing it and enjoying the flavor. I put my hands on the sides of his head and guided him down on my cock. Soon he had swallowed the whole thing, sucking and licking it and playing with my balls. I could tell I was going to shoot soon, I was too hot from sucking him off.

I pulled myself out of his mouth, and he looked up at me, disappointment plain on his face. Carefully I turned him over and had him kneel down over the bunk so his cute virgin ass was peeking over the edge, nice smooth and round, like ripe fruit fresh for the picking. I bent down and spread his smooth cheeks, revealing his fresh bud. Slowly I pressed my middle finger into him. Hot fire gripped my finger as I pushed passed the ring of muscle, and he moaned loudly. Just as slowly I pulled my finger back out, and watched the muscles pucker in and out. Leaning forward I ran my tongue up and down his crack, teasing his hole and eliciting another moan.

Soon his pucker was well slicked with my saliva and I stood behind him, positioning myself. Carefully I pressed forward and we both moaned as I entered him, my cock felt like it was on fire. I pushed in all the way and my balls slapped against his ass. His hands were buried in the rubber mattress of the bunk, and his head was down.

I reached forward between his legs and found that he was hard again. Slowly I pulled out of him untill only my head remained inside, then shoved back in. I built up speed, and quickly had a fast rhythm going as I fucked his hot, tight ass. As I pounded into him, I could feel the caboose swaying from side to side along the tracks, almost as if it were saying, 'yes, yes.' I soon reached the point of no return, and shot my load in his sweet young ass. My cock was boiling in my own juice and his ass still felt like it was on fire. It felt like I cam more and longer than I ever before in my life. Finally I finished.

With a plopping sound, I pulled out, and turned him over. His cock, still hard, pointed up in the air invitingly, and I gladly sucked it back into my mouth. Almost immediately I had coaxed a second load from him. As he lay there in post orgasmic bliss, I crawled up the bed and kissed him, long, deeply and very tenderly.

We both lay down on the bunk and I held him in my arms as he drifted off to sleep. Carefully I lay him down, got out of bed and dressed myself. Clothed and happy, I climbed the ladder up to the cupola and watched out the window as the sun broke over the far horizon, greeting the world once more. Soon we had passed the state line into Mississippi, and shortly came to Meridian, eight miles past the state border. After climbing back down the ladder, I woke Peter with a kiss, and told him to get dressed. When he finished dressing, he joined me on the back platform of the caboose, looking on in curiosity as the train came to a stop.

Peter looked over at me, the sun playing in his green eyes. "I guess this is good bye now, huh Steeve?"

"Only if you want it to be." I responded.

"What about the railroad guys?" he asked me confused.

"If you want to stay, go inside, get in the john, and wait there 'till I come get you." With a smile, he quickly did so.

The Southern Rail boys swapped my caboose, me, and my little stowaway onto the Kansas City Southern Railway. I signed the papers. "Steve," the KCS crew asked, "how many riding with ya?"

"Just two, me and Peter." Stepping out of the caboose and onto the back platform, Peter waved to the crew and they all said hi. Peter and I left the caboose and went to breakfast with the crew at a local diner.

When we were finished and had returned to the train, the crew invited us to ride with them in the locomotive, and I accepted. They were old friends of mine, and soon Peter was perched on my lap, fast asleep as I sat on the spare stool. He looked so peaceful, as though he felt safe finally. I suppose at that moment, he was the safest he had been in a very long time - there, asleep in my arms as the train rocked gently from side to side, moving along at a steady forty miles an hour.

Bill, a man I had known nearly three years, looked over to me and smiled. "Steeve," he asked, "where in the world did that blond kid come from?"

"From a small town in Alabama." I answered quietly. "He was looking for a free train ride, and managed to stumble across my caboose."

"Well," Bill replied, "at least he found good company."

I smiled. "Yes, he did."

Bill, Jim and I talked for a while, and I soon dozed off myself as the train rolled on. A while later we reached Forest, a city 40 miles east of Jackson. While we were stopped at Forest, Peter and I got back on our caboose and rode the rest of the way into Jackson behind three GP38 locomotives and one hundred heavily loaded freight cars.

When we finally arrived in Jackson our caboose was once more swapped over to a crew of friends, this time to the Illinois Central Railroad. It was a short hop to the I.C. main yard, passed the passenger station and Amtrak's City of New Orleans. We waved at the people waiting to board the southbound train. Peter told me later that he had felt as though he were a prince, standing there on the back of that caboose with me.

Once we had reached our final destination, and the caboose was uncoupled from the train, Peter and I unloaded our belongings - his bag and the supplies I had brought along for the trip - including the book which I had never gotten around to opening. We loaded it all into the back of my truck, which I had left waiting for my return, put the brakes on the caboose, and turned it over the boys operating the Kosy line.

Robert and Dave looked at me as Robert asked, "So Steve, how was the trip?"

"Wonderful," I smiled, "just wonderful."

Dave laughed and said, "Any trip by train is wonderful for Steve. He loves the damned things."

"Yes, Dave, I do. But this one was extra special." Still smiling Peter and I got into my little blue Dodge truck and headed north towards Yazoo County and home. No one was in the house that afternoon when I arrived home with Peter, so we stripped and took a hot shower, then lay down in my bed for some much needed, and motionless sleep. Peter slept in my arms, holding me tightly as if he feared that I might fade away into the night like the mists of a dream.

Later that night, after we had awakened from our nap, and Peter was sprawled out on the floor watching TV while I worked on the railroad database, Mom walked in. She sat in the chair next to mine and asked, "Steve? Who is the blonde boy wearing your clothes and laying in the middle of the floor watching TV?"

"Mom, that's Peter. My little stowaway."

"Son," Mom smiled, "I want to hear about this little trip of yours in private - but later. For the moment, I believe Peter wants you with him."

"Goodnight Mom. Love you."

Mom smiled at me and kissed my cheek. "I love you too, Steve. Goodnight. And to you Peter, goodnight." He got a kiss on the cheek too, which caused him to blush an adorable shade of crimson.

The next morning I told my mother about my trip, leaving out a few of the more graphic details. "Oh Steve, whatever am I going to do with you? What you did for that poor boy was wonderful." I smiled her, took Peter's hand, and walked out the door into the sunshine. It was going to be a beautiful day.

Don't forget to check out NO GREATER LOVE in the historical section of Nifty. Also Read Flak Bait in Historical and  Flip in HS by my friend Willy B. He is a great writer. (o: and please read Different by my friend Chris in HS on Nifty also and E mail us you comments and idea's we really love to hear from our readers.
Stephen ( Happy Reading)