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THE SZENTENDRE TRAIN – part 14 of 30

September 12, 2017 Leave a comment

I stood with my face up to the spray, the warm water flowing over my nipples, around my breasts, down over my belly and between my thighs.  My heart was pounding, the warm water, the scent of the young male animal behind me and my imagined images of how he looked made my knees weak.  After a moment he put his hands on my shoulders and sent a wave of heat through me.  He stepped closer and slid his hands down from my shoulders and wrapped his thick arms around me.  He cupped my breasts. His hands were big, warm, and gentle.

Attila held me and pressed himself to my back. His firm chest was pressed to me and he was kissing the top of my head through my wet hair.  He caressed my breasts, and I could feel him getting hot, pressing against me.  I laid my head back on his shoulder and just let him have me, and silently rejoiced in the mounting thrill. The orgasm consolidated in me. I could feel its fragments lifting up through my legs from my toes, through my arms from my fingers, through my breasts to my vagina, where it all came together in a gut wrenching contraction that made me yowl like an alley cat.  I was too weak to stand, and Ati’s strong arms held me securely.  The warm water continued to cascade over me while I regained my composure. I turned in Attila’s arms and pressed my breasts flat against his hard stomach.

Attila didn’t speak with his voice, but his hands were worshipping me.  They wandered slowly over my back, down to my butt, around my hips… like he was a blind man, reading me in Braille.  My cheek rested on his chest, and I just stood there enjoying the mounting desire within me.  I felt my inhibitions drifting away and I was sure I could do anything I wanted to do. I felt him quiver at my touch.  I had not had a lover to caress in more than a year, and I didn’t want to miss any potential for pleasure. I might never get another opportunity like that.

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THE SZENTENDRE TRAIN – part 13 of 30

September 8, 2017 Leave a comment

I served the bread and goulash on my gallery, overlooking the dark garden where individual pools of light surrounded each light pole.  He ate quietly, pausing only momentarily from time to time to complement my cooking skills.  He looked out over the garden from time to time and back to me.

“I am eager to see your garden in the light,” he said.  “I’m sure it’s beautiful, having been created by so beautiful a flower as you are.”

I looked at him and searched for irony in his eye, his handsome face, in the tone of his voice.  But I heard no irony or sarcasm or even humour.  I looked into his soft hazel eyes and saw desire.  There was a glowing fire within this young man and I had ignited it.  I decided to bring the obvious subject to the surface.

“You do realise that I’m your mother’s age,” I said.  I studied his face for a reaction.

“My mother enjoys a full, satisfying life,” he said.  “She is in love, she has lovers, she has a profession and a home, and is very happy.  It’s true that I am young enough to be your son.  It’s also true that I am old enough to be your lover.”

We washed the dishes and the gulas pot together, standing side by side at the sink.  Attila was much larger than I am, and it made me feel young and fragile and safe to be near him.  He asked where he could shower and sleep, so I took him upstairs to my en suite bathroom.  I went into my bedroom and got undressed.  When I returned to the bathroom, Attila was in the shower and his clothes were on the floor under the sink.  I shed my kimono and stepped into the shower facing the warm spray.  I was afraid to be frontal with him.

THE SZENTENDRE TRAIN – part 10 of 30

September 5, 2017 Leave a comment

“I’d love to, if you’re free,” he said.  I was surprised at how eager and excited he was.

“I am free,” I said.  “Will you come to my place tomorrow?”

“What time will suit you?” he said.

“Depends upon how late you will be up with your celebration tonight,” I said.

“What celebration?” he said.

“You said you were dressed because you had something special to do this evening,” I reminded him.

“Oh, yes,” he laughed.  “I’ve done it.”

“You’ve… you mean I’m the something special,” I said, blushing.

“Yes, you are something very special,” he said.  I again relinquished my sense of responsibility and blurted out what I really wanted to say.

“Well then, we should not interrupt our special evening too early,” I said.  “If you’re free, you can come home with me now, and we can discuss our artistic endeavours over bowls of goulash and bread.”

“Nothing would please me more,” he said.  “And you must promise to come to my studio on Sunday morning.”  We sat silently, looking out the windows at the darkness for the remaining minutes before the train stopped at the Szentendre platform.

I preceded him off the train and waited a moment on the platform for him before we walked off together.  Boldly, I put my arm in his and guided him toward my house.  We walked along the sandy street past the small, stucco houses in their large, fenced lots.  Bushes heavy with red roses clung to the high fences.  Some fences were so thick with ivy that they formed solid walls of green that hid from our sight the serene beauty of the orchards and gardens within.  We walked together, and the warm evening air was fragrant with the scent of roses.  There were no streetlights, so we could see the road only because it was light coloured sand and lit by the glow of garden lamps in yards along the way.

 

THE SZENTENDRE TRAIN – part 7 of 30

August 28, 2017 Leave a comment

That final Friday class passed slower than I could bear.  Minutes dragged by like hours, and I wanted to scream and rush out of the room and run to the station where the Szentendre train waited.  I wanted to see the lad on the platform and run to him and crush him to my chest and not care about the people milling about.

At last the week was over.  I went into the lounge and did what I could with my face and my dress.  My face was like a train wreck.  I decided that I would talk to the lad, but from the point of view of a dowager aunt rather than a panting lover.  The dress was good, though.  Dark blue, supple, clung to my body in the best places, and allowed a delicious looking cleavage.  Convinced it was hopeless I headed for the station with my obsession on my mind, and I was determined to kill it or cure it.

The Szentendre train was idling at the platform.  I didn’t see the young man anywhere, and I boarded the train hoping to see him already aboard.  I had prepared myself for the confrontation.  I was going to mention that I observed by his red jacket that he was a student at the University of Fine Arts.

“It seems we ride the same trains every week, and I thought we might ride together, if you don’t mind,” he said.  I looked up and was shocked to see the young man standing right there in front of me.  He wasn’t wearing the red jacket.  That’s why I hadn’t seen him on the platform.  He wore a black T-shirt under a Harris Tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows.  He was even more handsome than I thought with only my furtive glances to go by.

“Uh… certainly… sure…” I stammered.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  His voice rolled into my body like warm honey.  I felt like I was being caressed by his words.  “I seem to have interrupted your reverie,” he said.  “I’m sorry.  My name is Attila Nagy.”

THE SZENTENDRE TRAIN – part 6 of 30

August 24, 2017 Leave a comment

I was dancing with him, my mystery lover.  As the warm water caressed me, I imagined it was he.  I imagined his gentle hands caressing me all over, passing gently over my breasts, lingering tantalisingly on my erect nipples before travelling down over my belly.

Thursday morning I put the cooled goulash into the refrigerator and went to the Szentendre platform, where I was among strangers.  The young man wasn’t there, nor were most of the people I usually saw there.  The Thursday morning passengers were a different lot than the Monday morning passengers.  It didn’t matter to me, because the young man was not there, and that was all I cared about.  He was all I cared about.  He was in my mind’s eye while I shopped, cooked, gardened, bathed, and taught.  At night, he was in my bed while I slept, and his tight young body was mine to enjoy.  And enjoy it I did.  In my dreams, I was the woman he always hoped for. My orgasm woke me each time, alone in my bed, dreaming of a man twenty years my junior, to whom I’d never spoken.

I was barely able to keep my mind on my classes.  Charts of the male anatomy covered most of the wall space in my classroom.  To my fevered mind, each of them was the young man.  Charts of the female anatomy were my body and my mind continued to couple the naked bodies.  Throughout that agonising Thursday and the restless night in my city flat I felt like an addict without her drug.  My body ached for him.  My arms quivered with the desire to enfold him to my chest.  I realised the foolishness of my infatuation, and vowed to end it by dissolving the fantasy.  When finally I could speak to him, the reality of who he was and what he wanted would emerge.

Friday morning I was beside myself.  The agonising night had left me looking like Hell on the very day when I wanted to be radiant.  It was hopeless, and my spirit fell to the bottom of the barrel.  I resolved to get a hold on my emotions.  I was an intelligent woman, and I would overcome the emotional turmoil with logic.  It was beyond emotional… it was psychological.  I explained the whole scenario to myself through the day, just vaguely aware of my students.  I’m sure they must have thought I was having a breakdown.  Maybe I was, in a way.

THE SZENTENDRE TRAIN – part 3 of 30

August 21, 2017 Leave a comment

The breeze from the moving train touched me, and I opened my eyes to climb aboard.  I took a seat and looked up to see the same young man I had seen on the Friday evening ride home.  He again smiled and nodded at me.  I half-smiled in return, took some papers from my briefcase, and pretended to read them.  I didn’t understand why the young man noticed me, and I dared not look at him long enough to see if I knew him.  I doubted he was a student in one of my classes because I know each of them quite well.  I had the impression from my quick glances that he was tall, broadly built, and with a good-looking square face.  He had a high forehead under thick, blond hair that he wore tied low down on the back of his head in a long ponytail.

The train rolled into the Budapest station.  I did not hurry to leave my seat because I hoped to see the young man from a different angle, when he couldn’t see me staring.  I pretended to be searching in my bag for something when he got up and went to the door.  His legs were long and his ass was absolutely beautiful.  The muscles in his thighs were tight in his jeans, stretching the denim.  I could see on the back of his red windbreaker the symbol of the University of Fine Arts in downtown Budapest.

He left the train and turned right toward the exit that leads to downtown transportation.  I turned right toward Semmelweis University.  Before I left the station I stopped and looked back, hoping to see the red jacket in the flowing crowd.  I was stunned to see him standing in the middle of the people rushing this way and that all around him while he looked back at me.  Flushed with embarrassment, I turned quickly and rushed up the stairs with the crowd and out onto the street above.

THE SZENTENDRE TRAIN – part 2

August 18, 2017 Leave a comment

The first week back at work was the usual mess of misunderstandings and scheduling conflicts and what have you.  In spite of the lonely, empty house in Szentendre, I was looking forward to getting home to my garden and my sculpture studio.  I like to make pottery or sculpt animals and human figures in clay. It’s just a hobby, but it was satisfying in a way, and helped to pass lonely hours.  I worked in my garden during Saturday and Sunday mornings and in my studio on weekend afternoons and evenings.

The first Friday night of the new semester, I boarded a later than usual train to Szentendre, because the hectic first week of school left me with some extra duties.  Evening was settling in when I took my seat.  The coach was empty except for a young man seated across the aisle from me.  He looked at me and smiled with a slight tilt of his head.  I averted my eyes and stared out the window at the passing scene that was fading in the descending light of evening.

I had never seen the young man before, and I wondered for a moment why he had smiled at me. I was one of the first passengers to leave the train.  I hurried across the platform toward home, and didn’t see him disembark behind me.   When I arrived at home, I made a small supper for myself and did a bit of housework before I went to sleep.  Saturday morning, I busied myself with my garden and my studio.  The weekend passed with the usual boring loneliness, and by Monday morning I was ready to return to the University.  At least I had some human interaction at my job, even though it was only with the students in my anatomy classes or some professors in the lounge.

As usual, I kept to myself on the platform, waiting for the commuter train to take me into the city.  Most of the scattered people were reading newspapers or talking quietly to each other.  I tilted my face up to the rising sun, closed my eyes, and let the warmth soothe me.  I heard the train coming, and I felt the people around me moving about in preparation for its arrival.  Someone stood next to me, almost brushing the sleeve of my coat, but I did not acknowledge it.