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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Erotica · #1885182
It just gets longer and longer.

            When I was 12 I was into hobbies I had a train set. I saw
      a really good deal on a 4-6-2 Pacific steam engine. It was an
      advertisement in Model Railroader. And I sent in my money order,
      but I only got the engine. A letter with the item said, "Other cars
      will be sent." And they started coming and coming. My dad was
      not pleased with the bill. He sent a letter to the company asking
      when the train would end. They replied when I canceled the order.
      I never got the caboose, which is my favorite car in the train.
      So, I sent a letter requesting the caboose. The company replied,

                  Dear Muzzy,

                          "Your caboose can only be purchased after you
                          buy the train."

            Marcella liked to play with my train set. And I liked Marcella.
      She was very quite and had big sad eyes. I like women with mental
      problems. I guess that's the way I was raised. Marcella was 16 and
      very good at fixing the trains. I was not. I kept seeing things backwards.
      I also had a hard time focusing on small objects. So, Marcella fixed
      the trains.
            She also liked to kiss me. I thought this was okay, but I've always
      been twitchy about being touched. My sisters were very touchy feely
      with me and that made me nervous. One day Marcella decided she would
      undress at my train set. I got the giggles. What strikes me odd about the
      nude female is the lack of a penis. I knew what a vagina looks like.
      My sisters showed me many times. But, even today, it just looks weird.
            Marcella stood there naked as I ran my train on its loop and blew its
      whistle. After a few minutes, she dressed and was clearly upset with me.
      I just giggled and blew the train whistle. Marcella left and did not speak to
      me for months. I went to her home and her dad told me she did not want
      to play with me. I was sad. But, I still had Michael to play with and he was
      just as enthusiastic about trains as I was. Michael had a HO train set.
      My was bigger: a S scale American Flyer.
            Now, Michael liked to kiss me too. Michael also liked to dress like
      a girl. His dad Gunther would not allow that in his house. So, Michael
      kept all his clothes and make up in my room with my train set.
      I know this sounds crazy, but he really was a cute girl. Michael, liked
      to walk around in his dresses and sometimes in just his heels and nylons.
      I would run my train around him. The track was placed on the floor and
      could be dissembled and put in a box under my wooden bench.
            Marcella eventually, returned to my train set. She thought Michael was
      cute. Michael was Jewish and her father was Czechoslovakian.
      Her father did not like Jews or Michael's cross dressing. So, Marcella had
      to lie to her father, when she visited me and Michael. It was very odd.
      But, more to the point I just didn't enjoy sex unless it was kinky. I guess
      I should mention my sisters had molested me since I was five years old.
      That was my introduction to kinky sex. Michael absolutely did not want to
      have sex with Marcella. But, they did when he was in his make up and dress.
      I preferred to run my train set and blow the train whistle. However, I did have
      sex with Michael and Marcella when Michael was dressed up.
            Okay,  Marcella had an abortion. Mr. Stasza was furious with her and
      locked his daughter in her room. He suspected me as the perpetrator.
      But, Michael could have been the father too. Michael's mother forbid him
      from playing with me and his train set was thrown away. That was sad.
      But, Michael continued to play with me. I was the only person, who would
      let him dress up. Marcella was sent away to a boarding school.
      I missed her: she tasted like lickerish. She liked to munch black lickerish.
      I still keep some around for a snack. Well, that's a strange hobby story.

      ^ +
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