Rhythm of the Rails-The effect on Tales & Tails

It's still early afternoon and I am comfortably seated in the dinning car. I absently mindedly look out the window and watch the passing houses, farms, and fields; passing trains without no names. I feel the wheels rumbling beneath the floor and the rhythm of the rails is all I feel. Yes, it feels that good.

I realized it must have been raining just before we got to this particular part of the track. There are puddles in the fields and the trees are laden with rain water, making them look tired and overworked. I am contemplating these conditions of nature when I suddenly spot an old red barn which has also weathered with age and neglect, in the most classic of ways. It seems to beckon to me like a secret old friend, a courier from a previous daydream. I picture myself a passenger in a truck being driven down the lane. I'm very curious to see what's behind that old barn...Maybe another time, I promise.

Then as we get even with the barn suddenly I encounter the most incredible of sites. A Rainbow! In December? Over a barn! How crazy is that? I had never before seen a rainbow in December! That will definitely go to the top of my list of all time favorite sightings. A promise that wondrous things can be seen when and where you least expect them. I get a strange feeling like anything is possible.

As I continue to consider the wonder of it all, I also understand, even better; the perks behind the City of New Orleans. I would not have had the same full vista if I had been traveling by plane. Plus, I wasn't the only one to notice the marvel of creation that promises us so much and asks so little in return. Just that sight at this time is enough to lift ones spirits...a mile high.

The barn seems to bid me 'cum' and see what's inside but alas I'm nowhere near my destination. There is still night time on The City of New Orleans tempting me even more...stay. I'll show you some even grander sights.

I'm still trying to write down my erotic thoughts of #13 when he appears in the doorway. Magic? Luck? The gentle rocking of the rails tends to make a person appear intoxicated. He staggers over to the booth where I'm seated and asks me if the seat beside me is taken. "It is not", I breathlessly respond.

"Please join me. I'm looking for inspiration and you might just have the very kind I need." I'm hesitant to say more until I see his response but again his smiling eyes give away his consent.

"So", he leads. "Shall we start getting to know each other better, especially if you plan to use me somehow? Names would probably be a good place to start."

I agree but only to this; I purpose to 13 that we use nicknames. I believe it might add to the intrigue. We could use the meaning of our names. Do you know yours? Do you think your parents knew? Your smile actually experiences an orgasm when you admit to me the meaning of your name is "small". Then our smiles cum together at once in delightfully orgasmic mirth when I reveal how my name means "gift".

"It's a perfect place in which to start. I'm small and I'm looking for a gift from you. Can we work something out, like a trade?", I hilariously inquire. "I'll call you (my) gift and you can call me (your) small."

In multiple ways, I can see for myself there is nothing small about 13. He's tall but not over my limit of 6'7". There has to be one. Everybody's got limits. I wonder, to myself, what his might be.

He has a large sense of humor and yet still seems happy to share mine. His brain appears to be large and intact which is a big plus, for many of the obvious reasons. His arms look big and strong (wouldn't they just?) to me. Arms that could hug the hell out of a devil...if you let him get close enough. His hands. His hands appear average at the least and Mamma done told me the legend of hands and feet...But to me--average simply means--best fit.

I can't wait to say, Good morning, Small. Don't you know me: I'm your native gift.

We continue to share some history of ourselves as he gets more and more drawn in to my fantasy life. Is it all a fantasy or is it the 10% factor. I admit to having a 3% checkered past...what better admissions could you want? Would you like to become a part of of my past, say make it an even 5% checkered?

I'm not a prude. I have gifted many. The effects of my age not withstanding, I am quite enlightened. I look to you for more such encouragement. I can promise I would never have to bamboozle any interested parties. If you ever feel bamboozled; bamboozle me back. How's that for more than fair?

We realize we've been talking for over an hour--maybe two--when the dinning car begins to fill up with the hungriest of fellow travelers. I'm not hungry for food just now so I decide to go back to my seat.

"Are you cuming, too?", I ask, as I stand. Your reply is a tentative 'sure' but you explain, as you rise, that you're a bit claustrophobic and the closeness of the seating makes it difficult for you to adapt. "I'm not that small, remember", you slyly allege.

I giggle again and suggest, "It might be worth a try, to let me take your mind off your fear of small places. I'd like to do so in a most delightful way". I encourage. "I'm the small one remember? I know small"

"I'm the small one and I brought the biggest quilt! We can cuddle, we can make a tent and whisper sweet nothings all night long. Maybe we can even find a new way to enjoy a long train ride and not be intimidated by those tight fits at all..."

"Furthermore, the rhythm of the rails is not all you'll feel with me." I proudly brag. "What you feel with me might totally rebuff your fears."

We finally manage to stagger back to our seats. As we make our way back through the cars, we sneak a most inadequate test of our tongue's tales. Mine reaching out telling yours to come hither, share some sweet nectar, let me try to pollinate you a little. It won't hurt a bit, my tongue anticipates. Yours concurs and extrapolates on the wetter the better. I hadn't been sucking on that lemon in the dining car for nothing, I beguilingly remind you.

But, just as we get erotically close to full tongue contact...not yet, the train pulls us apart after just one tiny taste of the tip of our breathtaking iceberg of lust, that strangely grew more massive between our hungry hot tongues.

Good Morning Small! Don't you know me, I'm your native tongue. I can't help but think that way...sue the manufacturer. I think but do not speak these overtly wise words.

Um. It's about to explode for us both, I realize. We are swayed off balance several times on our way to our seat located by the stairs. You catch me with your hands in the most unusual places...Are you that much of a handy man, I wonder. Or, is this simply your way of breaking the ice more efficiently.

We both realize very soon the accomidations we've chosen are not the best on the train for our purposes. Ah yeah, true, we have my big blanket but there's still some further challenges to privacy we'll need to overcum.

We'll have to find special ways to talk softly and nurse a good tale like we had done with the G-rated version in the dining car. There were plenty of people there to overhear and most had seemed to be happy for the opportunity. But, this time it will be for our ears and eyes only.

For starters, I have planned for us to discuss together; and for me to debunk some myths about; what is LUCK!

LUCK OF THE DRAW; Where's the luck in that? I wager I can draw your fullback out, 13 times; without missing a play. Want a piece of that action, I entice.

LUCK OF THE IRISH: Irish/smi-rish I ain't Irish unless you count that which might be in me sometimes. It might be in me through the whiskey. It might be in me by some salty stew...I might have et' some stew a time or two. Then you might be the luckiest Irish man that ever added his mix as many as 13 times to my pots of gold.

LUCKY IN LOVE: What has Love got to do with anything, other than feelings you hold for youngest offspring? Isn't it better, by far, to be lucky in LUST?

As we discuss luck and it's presence in our lives we become bewitched with the idea of fantasy. How lucky you will get in a good one?

Next:
Passengers will please refrain.