AllAboard01

Muriel had certainly never intended to screw Art's entire Model Railroad Club membership!
In fact she still hasn't, hasn't screwed them all that is. But she's a game girl and this is how it
all got started.

Things conspired against Muriel(or was that for Muriel?), as things sometimes do. Three
things really; Ernest was a widower, Ernest brought wine to the meeting and the bathroom
had two doors. All that sounds a little confusing I suppose, maybe I should back up a little.

Oh yes, there was another factor, so really it was four events or things which did the
conspiring... Muriel had bought herself a vibrator. Anyway, let me set the scene.

Muriel was, is, plump and cute and nearer fifty than she'd ever admit. She suits her
plumpness and often dresses to display herself to the best advantage, that is, flaunts her
assets. Muriel would be truly stunning if she shed maybe thirty pounds. But, packed into
something tight or short or brief or all three she's a real head turner just the way she is.

Art, her husband, was okay, visually at least. Performance-wise Art left much to be desired
which left Muriel desiring much. He was a lawyer, desperately trying to get himself on the
company letterhead. He worked awe-inspiring hours both at his office at work and his other
office at home. Any spare time went into his model railroad. That just left sleep, nothing left
for poor Muriel.

So Art was why she'd bought the vibrator the previous Wednesday. Her friend Julie had
talked her into it and they had spent a delicious hour at the Triple Exxx Sexxx Store across
town. The vibrator was purple and silicone and longer than Art and thicker than Art. The
batteries lasted longer than Art. It made Muriel very happy and Art was suddenly,
unknowingly, totally redundant ... well, except for his money of course.

Railroad Meeting Saturday followed Vibrator Buying Wednesday. Muriel was puzzled to find
herself wonderfully satiated yet oddly horny on Wednesday and Thursday and Friday and
Saturday. The vibrator was satisfying her needs but it had awakened something else. Itches
that double A batteries somehow couldn't scratch even though she was on the fourth pair.

Noon saw the house ready for the meeting. Art's Railroad Meetings were the best of the
group. He had a sizeable and complicated layout in a warm and comfortable room in the
basement, everyone agreed. But the catering by Muriel was what really drew the guys.
Muriel's coffee was wonderful, her hot snacks to die for, her cakes and cookies
disappeared like morning mist on a sunny day.

They liked her sweet, flirty personality. They liked her cleavage too and the tight skirts she
always wore. They tended to spend more time Muriel watching than train watching. Art had
two meetings per year and if canvassed, no doubt the membership would have voted for
ten more. Muriel wouldn't have minded, she loved the cooking and found the flattering
attentions of the men very heady stuff. But she did sometimes wish Art would notice her
efforts and direct more of his enthusiasm towards her.

But this Saturday Muriel was going to start her own Railroad Group. She didn't realise it at
the time of course. It would be Ernest and Ernest's wine that would set things in motion.

Ernest was the last to arrive. Everyone was downstairs leaving her alone in the kitchen.
Apologising for his lateness he handed her the wine and gave her quick hug and a kiss on
the cheek.

She liked Ernest. He'd been a widower for about six months and she sensed his loneliness.
They flirted mildly at the meetings. Nearly all the members flirted with her but Ernest was
her favourite. They were both lonely in their different ways. She rummaged in a drawer and
handed him the corkscrew. "Let's have a glass."

They stood in the kitchen and talked and sipped their wine. Second glasses followed. No
one came up from downstairs. A buzz of conversation and occasional laughter, together
with the ever-present sound of the trains running were the only reminders that they weren't
alone.

Ernest poured the last of the wine into their glasses. "I should have brought another bottle,"
he said with a chuckle.

"Maybe not," murmured Muriel. She pushed away from the counter and found herself
swaying just a little. There was a warm glow in her and when she glanced at Ernest she felt
that warmth begin to focus somewhere below her belly button. Muriel had been horny for
three days now, time to do something more about it!

She reached for Ernest's hand. Too surprised to resist, he let himself be led. Oh but her
ass! Wiggling divinely in the short and deliciously tight black, leather skirt; Ernest badly
wanted to touch.

In the bathroom she locked both doors and stood looking up at him. Ernest was tall and
slim. He was balding and grey. She guessed him at sixty-one or two and thought him very
handsome. She wanted him, she wanted him very badly.

Ernest was nervous. He wanted her. The wine had loosened him up nicely but this was Art's
wife in Art's bathroom. But Art's wife wore a white blouse sheer enough to show her white
bra and unbuttoned enough to reveal the swells of her breasts. As he looked down into that
cleavage he saw her fingers come up and undo another button. Ernest's erection grew
happily!

Part of Muriel's mind was asking her what the hell she thought she was doing. But her body
was running things. The heat that seemed focussed between her legs and the delicious
glow in her chest seemed to explain the phrase 'bitch in heat'.

She slowly unbuttoned the blouse and tugged it out of her waistband. It hung open and
Ernest just stared at her breasts which threatened to spill from her bra. He heard himself
say "They're beautiful."

She wanted to lift them out, to have him touch her, fondle her but this had to be quick. Her
arousal seemed to grow by the second. She wriggled her skirt high up her thighs and
struggled up and sat on the vanity. She reached out and grabbed the top of his pants and
pulled him towards her.

Ernest's caution was gone. He couldn't believe how aroused he'd become. Her overflowing
breasts, her nyloned legs, the heat of her, her perfume. Without a second thought he
unbuckled and unzipped. Pants and underwear around his ankles he stood with his
erection proclaiming his need.

Muriel almost cried out at the sight of it. A real cock, a big real cock and it was for her. She
strained to open her thighs wider against the hem of the skirt. She wore no panties and a
shock of dark brown curls marked the junction of her thighs

Ernest moved closer, Muriel wriggled her ass nearer the edge to meet him. She was wet
and ready, how could she not be? He was big, she was tight and exquisitely hot. Oh the joy
as he felt himself slide into her heat. She hooked her legs around him and drew herself
onto him. She clung to him with her arms, her heels digging, bruising into the backs of his
thighs. His hunger was intense and he fought for release. Muriel matched his eagerness
and struggled on his impaling cock, squirming her ass on the vanity. She writhed and
humped, utterly lost in the joy of having a hungry cock ramming into her.

Their loving was strangely silent, both aware of the people in the basement below them. But
there was no way to silence their breathing. Breathing? Both were fighting for breath,
gasping, all but sobbing.
Sweating too, sweat was running down their faces. The bathroom small and warm seemed
like an oven.

Ernest was all but certain he'd never make it, never reach orgasm, never come. He pumped
desperately into Muriel, wanting, wanting, wanting.

Muriel was in heaven as this man's wonderful cock drove endlessly into her. How she'd
missed the joy of a full pussy, a man between her thighs, someone hungry for her,
somebody just plain, gloriously fucking her. She wanted to shout, scream, yell dirty things.
She did hiss the words in his ear, begging him never to stop, to just keep on and on and on.

Ernest tried, God how he tried! Sweat streamed down his face, he knew his heart must
burst soon. His thighs ached. He couldn't, he couldn't, he just couldn't make it. And then
Muriel came, her pussy rippling and clenching at his cock.

She sobbed and whispered a loud "Oh God yes!" over and over in his ear. Ernest lowered
his head in defeat and saw her breasts heaving and sweat slick, the deep cleavage
between them so utterly beautiful. Some wonderful hormonal flicker made the connection
and the contractions started. He was coming!

"Oh God, I'm coming!" he moaned in her ear. And he did, he came and came and came
and Muriel felt every sweet spasm as his cock swelled and spurted inside her.

"Yes baby yes!" She sighed, cuddling him to her, aware of the glorious completeness she
felt. Surely nothing had ever felt so good! They clung together, hearts beating furiously.

Finally they parted. He stood back on trembling legs and smiled at her. His cock, small and
limp now, drooled down his thigh. Muriel's breasts, seeming to overflow the bra cups, shone
with perspiration. They wanted to laugh aloud but dared not.

"I've got to go; they'll be wanting their food." She unlocked the door to the bedroom and
paused. "That was wonderful!"

The look on his face told how it had been for him and both knew they'd do this again. She
slipped away into the bedroom. When she looked in the mirror she couldn't believe her
eyes. She looked as if she'd just been ... well, she had!

Ten minutes later a glowing, happy Muriel called,” Food’s ready you guys!" from the top of
the basement stairs.

Art led his guests up to the kitchen and found Ernest with a mouthful of sausage roll. "Hi
Ernest! You're looking well these days."

Ernest swallowed and greeted his host, "Can't complain Art, can't complain."

Five o'clock and the goodbyes and thank-yous were being said and Art was explaining to
everyone that he was flying out west on a week's business that evening. Ernest and Muriel
exchanged glances. She gave him a little nod.

Something had happened to Muriel that Saturday. Not just the glorious release she'd found
with Ernest but some restraint seemed to have slipped undone deep inside her. She heard
a quiet voice stammering thanks beside her.

It was Mark. Mark, barely twenty, usually accompanied his father but today, for some
reason, he was here on his own. Slim and shy and deliciously well mannered. Muriel was
fond of the boy who was becoming a man. He'd been coming to these meetings for maybe
five years now.

"Are you busy tomorrow afternoon Mark?" she asked him.

Mark shook his head and Muriel said, "I need a strong young man for a few jobs."

When Muriel got back from the airport she went to the computer and sure enough, Art had
the Railroad Group's addresses and phone numbers listed.

"Oh my!" she murmured, "seventeen of them, who shall I have for breakfast?"

She licked her lips and reached for the phone.

End of Part One. To be Continued ....

Copyright 2003, by Julius
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