I’ve been a train conductor for three months. It’s my first job out from college. I went to Hofstra on a basketball scholarship. I got this job through connections, and for being African American. There have been times when I felt lucky to have this job. Lucky compared to the crap I hear. Each day, I’d hear snippets of stories from well-dressed men and women who make more money then me. They are not happy. Their conversations revolve around each other’s misery; with constant back stabbing; indiscreet manipulations with the goal to earn as much as possible. For a while I felt their pain; as I clicked tickets and checked their monthly passes; after two weeks on the job I brought that negative energy home. I stopped hanging out with my friends, used to drink to get drunk on beers, and get lost on my computer in endless porn sites, and empty conversations in chat rooms.

Eventually, I learned to build walls just to stop exposing myself to the commuter’s anguish. The best advice I have is; go about your days without complaining. No one listens. Work as hard as you can. Ignore the hordes and their stories and focus on your life.

So, I now have this wall up. I started going out again. I even started playing ball for a local USBL team.

On the 9:23 from Penn Station, the cars were nearly empty. We had a problem with one of the doors as we tried pulling out of Jamaica Station. I was trying everything. The safety switch was stuck. A blonde pregnant woman with long nails, and her dark haired friend with too much makeup were complaining about how dirty the train was, and the amount of graffiti on the walls. I never noticed the filth. The cool November wind blew over them. I could see the hardened tips of their nipples under their thin sweaters. I was getting hard, and noticed them whispering to one another. I couldn’t hide it. I tried turning around, but I had to use the intercom and stood sideways, giving them a better angle to my erection.

While I was trying to get the door closed and talking to the conductor on the intercom; the pregnant woman got up and shook the door a little. There was a piece of plastic jammed between the doors. She pulled it out and shook it in my face. The door closed and I said my thanks and moved on.

“That’s all I get?” She said.

“What did you expect?” I said and tried to think of wet cold snow; just some kind of distraction to get my cock to soften up.

“A little more than thanks,” she said and walked back to her seat.

Her friend got up and shook her finger at me, “You could’ve been a little nicer,” she said.

“What would you like me to do?” I asked.

“Why don’t you give her a kiss?”

“That’s not appropriate. I’m not allowed to fraternize. You’re passengers and I’m on probation. If I get caught kissing you – I could lose my job,” I said calmly and tried to move on. I was flattered though.

“What’s wrong? You never kissed a white girl before?”

I looked around. No one else was on the train. I never kissed a pregnant woman before, not that I wanted to, but I went over and leaned down to the blushing blonde and said, “thank you,” and attempted to kiss her cheek. She moved her head to catch my mouth. Her lips parted, and I could feel her tongue slip inside my mouth. Her friend quickly reached over and started to rub my cock. My heart was beating. I knew I was getting into something I should stop.

The other woman unzipped my fly and reached into my boxers. She moaned a little as she pulled out my cock and flung her mouth down onto it. The pregnant woman sat back and spread her legs. She huffed out, “Suck it. That’s it. Suck that big black cock. That’s so hot.” She licked her fingertips and shoved them into her panties. I watched the mound of her hand under the sheer peach colored fabric; rubbing her clit with one hand as the other reached up and squeezed her large right tit.

Her friend pulled back and grabbed my cock and slapped her cheeks. Her face was wet. Her skin was red and I could see some pimples on her chin.

“Want to fuck my friend?”

I shook my head. She was pregnant after all.

“Want to fuck me?” The blonde said and pulled her panties to one side. Her thick pussy lips flapped open. I could see she was drenched and could smell the scent of sweat and juice. She arched her hips, and I stood there with my cock stuck out and ready to sink into her. Her friend grabbed my cock and leaned down over her friend’s pussy and started to lick it. At first she was slow, but soon she sucked on the swollen clit, and pulled back a thick lip with strands of hairs, moaning all the time and stroking my cock. I looked down at the pregnant woman. She was licking her lips as if she was following the pattern of her friend’s lips on her pussy. Her eyes were closed, and her hips were rocking up and down.

“I don’t have a rubber,” I whispered.

“Neither do we. Do you mind?”

It was too late. My cock was brought within inches of the open dripping pussy and I sunk it in. The woman let out a cry, and her friend kissed her.

“You like it?” She asked.

“It feels like a whale. It’s ahhh fuckin huge.”

Her pussy was loose, but I could feel her muscles latch onto my thick cock as I watched it slip into her.

Her friend pulled up the sweater. I watched the huge belly shake with each push. Her tits were swollen and pale white. Blue veins streaked under her pale skin. I reached down and licked her left nipple. It was pert and she let out a sigh as I nibbled and sucked.

I could feel myself getting ready to release.

“I’m going to come,” I said and pumped faster.

“I want you to come in me,” she said with determination.

I kept going and tried to distract myself to last as long as possible; so I thought about the stuck door, newspapers, faded ink that said Fuck Jose, and the next stop Mineola.

I pulled out. Too many times pulling out with my ex girlfriends – led me to this routine. Holding the eruption as long as possible, watching the white bubbles begin to bead at the tip of my cock; I stood back till both women were face to face with my stiff, glistening black cock. Then it happened. The look on their faces was humorous. I spilled a thick gush into each mouth and watched as they tried to swallow my load, but I kept coming.

“More. Give me more,” The pregnant woman begged.

Her friend had it in her eye and she laughed out loud.

“How was that?” I said as I pulled up my pants.

The pregnant lady whispered something to her friend.

“What’s with all these secrets?” I asked.

“We need a big favor from you,” the blonde said as she wiped the sides of her mouth.

“We’d like you to come to a party.”

“Well…if you give me your numbers and the address – I’ll be there.”

The house was huge. It was in a private neighborhood in the Hamptons, and I didn’t think I’d get past the guards. This was not a black neighborhood; the only things black were the BMW’s and Benz’s parked on the street and in the driveway. I heard music and laughing as I walked up to the front door. I rang the doorbell a few times, and was able to see inside the living room. The Knicks game was on. The pregnant woman was there, and she was opening presents. I didn’t know what kind of party this was. To be honest I thought it was one of those swingers’ parties. I rang the bell again, and a young man opened the door for me.

“Welcome. We’ve heard a lot about you,” he said and led me into the living room. There were white faces with smiles, and drinks and ties and jackets and trophies on a mantel, and the high school portrait of the blonde and another picture of her posing as a cheerleader in the living room I stood in.

Her friend walked in from a hallway, and waved shyly at me and I smiled towards her.

It became quiet in the room. The silence raced through in the house, as if I became deaf all of a sudden.

The blonde sat there, and cleared her throat and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, Mom and Dad…this…is…the father of my baby.”

The sounds of screams and broken glass were everywhere as I ran towards the door. I remember the distinct sound of feet pounding the road behind me, and cussing and other words I had nightmares about when I was a boy.

I’ve been on this job for more than three months, and have seen too many faces and heard too many stories. It’s time to get back to punching tickets and minding my business.

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