The depressingly familiar controls worked smoothly under my blackened hands. Before me, the series of levers and gauges responded appropriately, test after test. The roar of the engine was a consistent drum of thunder. The floor of the cabin rumbled under the force of the horsepower created with every piston's pulse. Each breath was a potent mixture of diesel fumes, machine oil, and muggy air that could choke a lesser man. I had spent the last four months sucking it all in. Hopefully, this was the end of it.

Check after check cleared as I reclined in the old rocking chair I had hauled up into the cabin. The long list of tests had been run at least once a week, with each new week finding new gremlins in old Gurta. At some point, each and every test had been cleared, then uncleared, then recleared at least once. I almost couldn't believe that nothing else had reared its head at the last second. I shut down the man eater, marked the forms on my clipboard, and promptly decided that fresh air was worth the effort of standing up.

Climbing down the steps, I took a few steps back to look at Gurta, the Man Eater, as the maintenance crews had taken to calling her. She was an early era diesel engine, one of the first to travel across the United States and one of the first to pull passenger trains. Unfortunately for the railways, Gurta (and the two others like it that were actually constructed) were some of the least reliable locomotives in U.S. History. As soon as it was possible to replace them, new models were on the rails and Gurta-- along with her sisters-- were relegated to sidetracks permanently.

Recently, it had been decided that she was to take one last historic voyage to be put in a train museum. Of course, that meant quite the maintenance cycle to get it moving after about 70 years of inactivity. All of the other technicians and engineers had given up on Gurta, faced with problems they couldn't handle. So we called her the Man Eater, since she was chewing up the crews and spitting them back out, unsuccessful.

But with two days to go before her scheduled trip, I had her cleared.

"Warren, kid, where are we at?" Vince shouted as he hurried around the corner and into the bunkhouse. Vince ran the crews and was the salty old dog of the railroad world. He and his boys worked on everything throughout the years, from steam engines to bullet trains. The man knew his way around almost anything and almost everyone. It was because of him that I had gotten a job anywhere. It was reassuring to be called back for once.

"Take a look for yourself," I replied, heaving my clipboard across the concrete as I headed back to my bench to take up a rag for my hands.

Vince swept it up. "Don't tell me it won't hold... Well, shit, kid. I never thought I'd see the day this old beast would pass."

"Thank God it did," I groaned. "If I had to climb back into the guts of that thing again, I'd just rip it apart piece by piece."

"I knew you had it in you," Vince said, joining me at the bench. "You got a way with the oldies, Warren. Nobody as young as you should be this good with antiques. I can't see for the life of me why you are trying to walk on me."

I sighed. "You know I never got into this to fix up antiques."

"So, back to trying to get into the bullets?"

"Something like that." I tossed the rag on the bench, disappointed with the whole thing. I had been relegated to restoration projects despite all of the study I did on high-speed trains. It was the only place I could get work. Vince always got me on projects, but all the experience seemed to kill the opportunities for working on the high-tech trains. It just wasn't in my resume anymore.

"Well, I have one last commission for you while you keep up the search..."

"No more commissions, Vince!"

"It is only a few days, max, and you are the only one I can trust to take it on," Vince said, a certain pleading tone in his voice.

My resolve was falling apart. Vince was too good a friend and I was too much of a pushover. "What is it?"

"Driving her to her dusty grave."

"Really? Send someone else. I'm sick of this thing."

"Gurta has the longest maintenance history I've ever seen. I need someone driving her that can fix her, or at least be able to figure out what the problem is." Vince scratched at his beard. "Besides, if you say she checks out, then you know it is only a two day trip, right?"

Asshole, I wanted to call him. Vince had earned too much of my respect to deck for the transgression, but it didn't stop me from being pissed off. He was covering the shop's ass-- his ass. "So that's how it is?" I asked finally.

"Yep. I need the best on this and you are it, kid. I'll send you the details later. Take tomorrow off and be back in by 5:30 the next day."

I shook my head. "But departure isn't until 10..." "5:30, Warren. See you then," Vince said as he walked out.

I spent my free day in my empty apartment, wondering what to expect from the trip ahead. In what world did the engineer for a locomotive just serviced need to be in so many hours early? Hell, in what world did the service tech get chosen to operate the machine? On the one hand, Vince's logic wasn't wrong. But on another, it didn't seem to fit at all. I would find out, I was sure, the next day. In the meantime, I tried to relax.

Instead, I ended up just staring at walls, thinking about getting my life back on track. When I was little, my parents took a trip to Europe. And when the chose to ride the TGV to Paris, I knew. When it took off, I was convinced that I would work on trains. Not only that, I would work on the fastest trains I could find. Of course, nothing works out as planned. I attained a masters degree in engineering and all the certifications to operate and maintain all of the high tech stuff, magnetic and electric, bullet trains all. But there isn't much like that in America. And the few that there are weren't hiring. So I took a paid internship for kicks working on old diesel and steam engine restoration with Vince. It turned into the only job offer I could find. So I was trapped.

But new projects up north in Canada seemed promising. All there was in my mind was the future of rail transport, be it freight or passenger. But this old shit had to go. Everyone was right at the shop. At 27, I was just too young to be farting around with junk like that.

"You're late," Vince growled as I strolled in before the sun could be bothered to find the horizon. My watch read 5:37 AM.

"Final checks aren't for four hours, so who cares?" I groaned. I barely even managed to shower.

"Boy, you better clean yourself the hell up. The boss is going to be here in an hour and you need to have your final check done in 53 minutes. And, after that, you need to be cleaned up and in your outfit by 7:00. Ceremony begin at 9:00 and you are on show for questions. And the owner wants to meet you." Vince didn't even bother to look me in the eyes as he turned my next few days into a personal hell.

"What is all of this shit?"

"The owner of the railroad decided to make it a PR event. And since they are paying for everything, they can do everything they damn well please. And you don't have to like it, kid." Vince sighed. "Just go do your checks and roll it around to track C. Match it with the stage."

I was livid. Had I known all of this would have been a part of getting Gurta out of the shop, I would have turned it down. I wasn't a god damned show pony. "This isn't what I signed up for, Vince. And what outfit?"

"Deal with it. Costume's hanging by your locker." He chuckled a little bit. "Just play the part. Trust me. Its worth your while."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing if you don't go do it."

"Yes, sir," I muttered.

Gurta checked out. I started to pull out my various possessions from the cabin, from posters to manuals. Leaving everything at my bench, I went back to pull out the rocking chair. The more I looked at it, though, the more I decided to leave it. If I had to suffer the ridiculous ceremony of the morning, I was going to keep my chair as an idiot tax.

I secured my duffel bag inside the cabin and safetied my chair before warming up the motor. Within forty minutes, I had her coupled up with the first two passenger cars Gurta's sister ever pulled and lined the engine up with a set of decking with old-style patriotic drapes around them. There was a podium and some chairs set up, along with a small block of seating just on the other side for guests. The yard had been cleaned up yesterday, with most of the cars and engines hidden away in bunkhouses or down the track. Tool kits and assembled replacement pieces were locked up in the warehouse. It was like we were a proper train yard for once.

Leaving the bestial metal woman to her peaceful moments before the party, I hurried off to the break rooms for the mechanics. It was empty, save me, of course. Everyone else had the day off, since no work was getting done with the pomp and circumstance. As I strolled over to the hangers, I groaned. "You have got to be kidding me." The clothes selected for me were vintage train engineer overalls, long-legged, and corresponding work shirt underneath. I could only assume the white and blue-striped cap sitting on the shelf above was meant to be worn as well. I felt like a miserable little kid being dressed up by his parents.

Vince had left me styling gel and everything I needed to look the part of an old-tyme engineer. Begrudgingly, I stripped down and took up the task of turning a disgruntled young mechanic into a silver-screen-perfect train prince. The slim body frame that let me work so easily on these machines made the figure easy. I gelled and parted my normally-wild shock of blonde hair. The outfit was a little tight around my ass for overalls, but at least they were comfortable. Add in a shave and I was done.

As bizarre as it felt, the overall look felt convincing. If it weren't for the modern technology in the background of my reflection, I might have tricked myself. The clean-cut look wasn't bad either, even if it did take too much work. After one last look, I hurried out into the light of day.

I was posted next to Gurta for the next hour. As news reporters and railroad aficionados arrived, many came straight over to the engine. It was my responsibility to answer questions about it. Most of the content was easy or directly related to what I did to it, but a few folks put me through my paces on the history of it all. I got quite a few compliments on the outfit. For Vince's sake, I hoped they were being honest.

After a bit, questions lulled and the reporters got interested in some of the VIPs for the show. It gave me a short reprieve before Vince came marching my way, a small entourage following behind him. For the first time in almost three years, I saw Vince wearing a suit and tie. It didn't fit him well, making him appear more like a mafia thug than a respectable business man. Behind him was the real deal, though. A big man whose suit seemed to belong on him. He had to be in his early 60s, but he walked with a confidence and health that denied aging its right to weaken.

I didn't much note anyone beyond the third individual hurrying to keep up. Only managing to keep up by a near-jog, a tiny sprite of a boy hurried along. He couldn't have been older than seven years, with an auburn mop crowned by an engineer cap not far off from my own. In fact, we matched fairly closely. The enthusiastic child wore OshKosh B'Gosh overalls, modeled after an engineer save the pant leg being turned into a short cut around mid-thigh. They were made of a soft cordoroy compared to my work jean. I was rather taken aback by him.

"Warren, this is John Holden. Mr. Holden, this is Warren Harris. He is the most talented mechanic and train operator I've had the pleasure of working with. Without him, none of this would be possible," Vince said, waving to Gurta.

"It is an honor to meet you, my boy! Vince has been telling me good things," Holden said, taking my hand up for a firm shake. "He tells me you were the only one to catch all of the gremlins in this model and clear them out."

Vince was smiling at me, something he never did. And Mr. Holden wasn't just the owner of our shop. He owned half of the railroads in the country. This man wasn't born with something so low as a silver spoon in his mouth. But he was a true tycoon. A literal legend trying to transform the infrastructure of the nation. Even with an economic iconoclast in front of me, I had a hard time keeping my eyes off of the boy with him.

"I don't know about all that, sir. I wasn't the only mechanic to work on this piece," I began, but Holden cut me off.

"Don't be so humble! Vincent has been passing on weekly reports of the progress. I commissioned the work personally. I understand that the only real progress came from you."

I wasn't much for bragging, but it was hard not to the way he spelled it out. "I guess that is true."

"Of course it is, my boy! Of course it is." Holden laughed.

The young boy had left Holden's coattails, looking at Gurta's wheels. Holden started bouncing back and forth about how lovely the event was, giving me an opportunity to chase my own interest. I joined the kid's side and knelt down beside him. "See those bars in there?"

The boy looked up, then, realizing who it was, lit up even more. He nodded.

"Well, those bars came off of a steam engine's. I found them at a train junkyard. Back in the old days, when these were getting built, you nothing was stronger. It used to go to a steam engine that blew up after a derailing. No one found out why. Hopefully, it wasn't the wheel bars, right?"

"Yeah!" he replied. "Are you the engineer?"

"Not sure, kid. By the looks of your clothes, that might be you. I hope you know how to drive this thing." I elbowed his shoulder a little for effect.

He giggled. "No! I'm not. You are!"

"Fine, you got me. So why are you all dressed up?"

"I'm the relief crew!" he nearly shouted at me.

A big hand landed on the boy's shoulder. Holden was there, watching us talk. I immediately jumped up.

"I see you met my boy, Benjamin," he said with no small amount of pride. "He's a bright boy, just like his father."

"So I saw. He knew right where to look to see all the best parts."

Holden grinned through his elegant facial hair. "My boy, I have a favor to ask of you."

I looked at the tycoon with curiosity. "Anything, sir."

"When I was but a child, my father grew from mechanic to owner of half of the country's rail. As he prepared me to take on that role, he took me into the cabin of a train and showed me the heart and soul behind all of the fire and iron. I want Benjamin to have the same experience."

I must have had an incredulous look on my face. "Sir, are you asking me to take your son in the cabin for the trip?"

"Yay! I get to be in the cabin? Really dad?" Benjamin shouted.

"Don't be so surprised. Ben seems perfectly taken with you. And he is well-behaved. I want him to know what the rails are truly like."

I took a few seconds to consider it. Gurta had a spacious cabin. I was sure there were regulations that prohibited it, but if the owner of the railroad asked me to do it, I was equally sure that he would protect me in the worst case of being caught. Company would be appreciated on the long haul, but Benjamin could be profoundly obnoxious. He seemed alright now though.

There was also another element to my hesitation. I have always had a sexual attraction that I denied the light of day. Benjamin was a lovely distraction to my job at best and at worst, my fall from grace. Already, I could imagine myself taking advantage of the situation. Already, I was thinking up ways to risk everything and also walk away with my freedom. And with a boy so enamored with the train world, it seemed like he would believe anything I told him. In my imagination, I saw myself holding him close and exploring desires I had sworn myself not to even look in the direction of.

But I also saw the value of being indebted to the owner of the railroad. He was a man that could open doors. Maybe even give me access to my bullet trains. And there was no way I could ignore that.

"Has Vince been informed of this?"

Mr. Holden smiled a foxy smile. "Vincent has elected to defer regulatory control of cabin procedure for this departure to my office."

Between the two of us, the lack of immediate approval had begun to scare the tyke. As conversation and time passed, the worry became more and more apparent.

"In that case, as long as it meets your approval, sir, I take no issue with having Benjamin on board as my relief crew."

"Yes!" Benjamin shouted, bouncing up and down. He surged forward and hugged my legs, pushing his cheek against my side. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"Benjamin..." Mr. Holden said slowly, pulling his boy off of me. "Now you look here. Running a train is serious business. You do whatever Mr. Harris says. Don't touch anything without permission. Behave." Mr. Holden yanked the cap off of his child's head, ruffled his hair, and slapped it back down onto his mop-top. "Go get your things from Ms. Pendleton."

Benjamin ran back towards the entourage, holding his cap to his head as he did.

As Mr. Holden rose, I spoke. "I do have one concern, Mr. Holden."

"And what is that, Mr. Harris?"

"What of accommodations? You know, I'm sure, that this train is scheduled to push across the country over three days with no relief crew. That means I stop on side tracks. There won't be motels to stay in and the closest thing to facilities will be the occasional train yard or station bathroom. I won't be able to put Ben up anywhere."

"All the better," Holden replied. "If you are sleeping in the cabin, he should do the same. The boy is taken up in it. He needs a dose of realism, see what it is really like to make that run."

"So be it," I said. "I'll give him the real deal and show him as much as I can."

"I knew you were the right choice for this," Holden said, patting my shoulder. Glancing at his wrist watch, he nearly jumped. "Oh hell, the show's about to start. Damn dog and pony shows! You are a good man, Warren!" he said as he hurried back to his entourage. When I heard the last bit, I knew for certain that John Holden was my kind of man.

Cameras flashed and speeches echoed across the yard. I tried to remain as calm as possible, sitting on stage along with the speakers and VIPs. Around me were CEOs, leaders in museums and historical societies, and other rich sorts of people. Meanwhile, I made less than 50K and lived in a small apartment. I felt incredibly out of place. Normally, I might be wearing the face of a miser. Having Benjamin sitting next to me eased that quite a bit. Watching him kick his feet despite several attempts by his father to make him stop put me at ease. Light up sneakers bobbing about a stage filled with loafers and high heels certainly eased the pressure on me.

The ceremony seemed to run off into tangents. But as I was losing concentration and focus, I heard the announcement that it was time to see off the railroad's oldest still-fully-operational diesel locomotive to its new home. The Master of Ceremonies, a woman I wasn't familiar with, invited the boarding of crew. That was my cue, I thought all of a sudden.

I jumped out of my seat as the crew began to clap. Benjamin hopped up too, his backpack over one shoulder and covered in pictures of steam engines. The audience clapped louder with the joining of the only heir of the Holden empire. In my mind, I made the world distant save for me and Benjamin. I held my hand out to him and smiled gently. Looking up at me with wonder, he placed his little hand in mine and we walked towards the train.

Ahead of us, the sliding door stood open, just up a small ladder. And as we walked towards it, our backs to the crowd, I had a strange feeling. A strange flush came over me, followed quickly by dirty thoughts. I imagined the cabin, just for a flash, being like approaching the bed. Like I was just a teenager, moving forward knowing that I was going to break every rule in the book with my new friend. Nerves came pounding back, along with every awkward little fear from those times. Even as I reminded myself in my head that I had vowed to myself that I would never do something like that.

When I should have been worrying about Gurta failing in front of the audience, all I worried about was the smile on Ben's face.

Ben looked up at me and must have seen my blushing cheeks. But he didn't do anything but beam at me for getting to ride a train. He was so trusting, so beautiful like that. I could get lost in his eyes. And nearly did.

And nearly walked straight into the engine. Luckily, my foot caught it before my face did and I came to. I released Ben's hand and ushered him to the ladder. The strides for his short legs were too big without help, so I put a hand under his out-hanging bottom. The gentle cordoroy was nice to the touch, but I was already getting aroused at the very concept of touching him even in this platonic way. I quickly followed, happy to keep the front side of me away from the crowd.

Cheers reached a crescendo as the two of us stood at the doorway to the cabin, me strategically placing Ben in front of me. His back was mere inches from bumping to a rising bulge in my overalls. So I tried my best to keep him distant. After a minute of waving, I pulled him in and slid the door closed. The cabin was as I left it. I hurried to the controls to get the engine ready.

"What's a rocking chair doing here?" he asked.

"Its a nice chair," I replied. "Anyone say you can't have a rocking chair in your train?"

"Nope!" He laughed, finding it more funny than I did.

I engaged everything and the train started to push. "Hurry, get over here!" I said, waving Ben over. As soon as he was in arm's reach, I grabbed him by the waist and pulled him up to my height and unlatched the window. Sliding it open, I started waving. He got the idea and started waving too. Gurta worked like a dream, pulling from the station.

"Hurry, Ben, blow that whistle!" I said, swinging him from the window over to a metal chain hanging from the ceiling. Two sets of fingers wrapped around it and yanked down as hard as possible, calling forth a tremendous high howl somewhere behind them. As the engine pushed, the sounds of the crowd disappeared. It was just the two of us and a diesel train, pulling away from the station. As he blew the whistle one more time, he turned to me. Those eyes were so bright they could blind. Nothing could have made Benjamin Holden happier.

And because of that, I think I was pretty happy too.

It took little time for us to get up to speed with so little weight behind us. The rumble of the diesel engine felt familiar, like a seaman with the rocking waves of the ocean. Gurta broke the city lines, leading us into empty stretches of land populated only by trees. The open window brought a breeze through the cabin, a relief from the fumes and smell that built up in the bunkhouse. Measurements were good. Gurta was running smoothly. I let loose a sigh, all of my fears about the train's operation gone.

My attention could finally be brought back to Ben, who had stumbled to the back wall for stability. While these trains often came with seats for the operators, Gurta's had been missing for some time, gone who knew where from being left unattended for so many years. Hence why I had brought in the only free chair I could find at the time for testing. Standing during operation wasn't hard for me, but I hadn't counted on bringing someone so uncertain on his feet as a child.

"You ok?" I asked, turning back to my new found companion.

"Yeah..." Ben said, pushing himself off the back of the cabin with one hand, the other held out warily before him. "It shakes a lot!"

"Yes, it does." I stood freely, letting my balance adjust with the rocking. "Be careful about moving around a lot. Let it move and keep your feet flat. You will get used to it."

Ben pushed off and stumbled towards me, but caught himself.

"See, not so bad." I smiled reassuringly. "Hold my hand over here. I'll show you all the controls."

Another stumble brought him towards me. I quickly knelt and caught him, one hand on each side of his ribcage. I held him there for a few seconds, just feeling his size in my hands. If he was too much smaller, I might have been able to tap my finger tips together. "You good?"

"Yeah..." he said, though his voice suggested uncertainty.

I stayed knelt and let him use my shoulder for stability. One by one, I pointed to each gauge and lever, explaining what they did in the simplest of terms I could come up with. Ben stood with rapt attention, absorbing each new piece of information about his beloved machines. The sparkle that drove me wild hung in his eyes, hiding in between shades of blue. " As I explained, I casually wrapped a hand around his waist and letting my hand clutch at his belly. My thumb naturally stroked the material of his Osh Kosh overalls, enjoying the texture. And the opportunity to hold him.

He didn't seem to mind the closeness. And neither did I, despite all of my vows and fears.

For the first few hours, the two of us found our stride. The rocking chair, for example, was something we traded back and forth with. We figured out storage options, picking the best cabinets for my gear and the bit he brought as well, though most of his things were train-related toys and books. While I adjusted controls or we passed through a town, he settled down in the chair or balanced on his tip toes to catch a glimpse of the cars patiently waiting for us to pass. And when we had a stretch of empty rail, I took up the chair while he practiced his balance against the swaying of his vacation home. I happily watched him wobble about the cab, learning to walk anew like a babe. There was an almost parental pride in it.

As I returned to the controls of the train during the passage of a town, Ben joined me. "Am I a good relief crew?" he asked.

I chuckled. "Well, you are pretty good company. That's a relief, I guess. But a relief crew does more than sitting and watching the engineer, you know!"

"Like what?"

"Well, it is a little different crew to crew. There are lots of traditions, especially in the old days. Sometimes, the relief crew takes over so the train can run through the night while the engineer sleeps, for example." My eyes didn't leave the window as we passed a flag. I watched carefully as the train flew past a road crossing.

"But I don't know how to drive a train!" There was a bit of disappointment in his voice, a mixture of whining and genuine sadness.

"Nope. But we aren't running all night either," I said, finally turning to him. "So, my relief crew doesn't have to do that."

"So, what do I do?"

"There are plenty of ways you can give relief." The words felt awful coming out of my mouth, like out of a bad porno flick, even though I knew Ben didn't understand the meaning behind them. I wouldn't say that I was lying by making the suggestion that members of relief crews sometimes found more fun ways to satisfy the lead engineer. After all, back in the old days, operating a train meant long periods of time without access to your wife. I never found reference to it anywhere, but I had no doubt that it happened. "Keeping me company for one, which you do well. Or comfortable. Or just feeling good."

Ben nodded, as if deep in thought about it all.

"You know, a lot of the work relief crews did were all secret or in code, too. They kinda spoke a different language back then. So what each relief crew did was hush hush."

"Oh. Like super top secret?"

"Exactly like that, Ben. And they used code words to talk about a lot of it. For example, sometimes, relief crews would go into the passenger cars and sneak some beer up to the engineer. He isn't supposed to drink that, you know. When he wanted it, he would ask the crew to help him 'fuel the fire'," I said, making air quotation marks. "So, if anyone asked what the crewman did, he didn't have to lie, but people wouldn't know what he really did."

"What are the other code words?"

"Each crew had their own. There were all sorts. Others were like 'oiling the wheels', 'pushing coal', 'checking the pipes', 'polishing the smokestack', 'adjusting the clamps', 'cleaning the pistons', 'blowing the whistle'..."

"I like blowing the whistle!" Ben shouted happily.

"So do I, buddy. I love it when you blow the whistle." In my pants, I throbbed. If only he knew what that one meant.

"Are we going to have code words?"

"Well, that depends. You only need code words if you are going to take the relief crew oath and make sure your engineer's every want and need is taken care of. Otherwise, you are just a ride-along."

"Am not!" Ben said, stomping a foot. "I want to be the relief crew."

"Alright, buddy. But first, you gotta swear the oath."

"What's the oath?" He was determined, so much so that his little lips puckered with childish intensity.

"Put your hand on your heart and repeat after me."

Ben put his hand in the center of his chest. I would have considered correcting him if he didn't seem so certain of it.

"I solemnly swear to do what it takes to get this train to its destination. I will relieve my engineer no matter how hard. I will trust and follow him to the end of the line. I will be loyal. I will be strong. And I will never tell anyone the secrets of the cabin." For making that up on the spot, I thought it was pretty good. And as Ben recited it back to me, the implications sent sparks down my spine that settled at the bottom.

"Congratulations, Ben! You are officially my relief crew. Welcome to the crew."

I spent the next hour figuring out ways to get Ben used to his duties. Mostly, I stayed at the controls and called him over for a snack or a drink. Sometimes, I just took pleasure in requesting hugs from him. Ben was getting used to sharing affection and touching more and more. There was definitely a bond growing and every new change I brought him about the journey tightened it. I especially enjoyed the physical affection. My cock was hard most of the time now. The words I laced into that vow kept running through my head. "...no matter how hard." And every hug tugged on my pants, giving a little indirect stroke, something that only stoked my drive for him even more.

My mind danced with thoughts of his naked body on mine, with only his cap and socks remaining. I thought about climbing up the leg of his little overalls and teasing him. Or a glance of his eyes up at me while his mouth was filled with my relief. Even sitting him in my lap on the rocking chair riding my dick between his legs...

The reverie broke with a worried statement. "I have to go to the bathroom."

I looked back down at Ben, whose knees tapped together and a hand clutched at his crotch. His cheeks had turned a little red and his lips became pouty. The instantaneous reaction was to usher him to a bathroom, but Gurta had none. What had I planned to do about that? Being a stable, but adventurous man, I had planned on spraying my hose right out the door. Ben, however, might just fly off if he tried it. I glanced up at the jugs and bottles. Nothing empty there either.

Outside, we were between towns. Nothing but empty fields and another good sixty miles before I would need to touch the controls. Looking back and forth between the door and Ben, I decided to go for it. "Looks like you are going to go pee like the biggest man in the world," I said with a laugh.

"Huh?"

I took the hand not mashing his junk and led him to the door. A look of concern was growing on Ben's face, but no time was given to comfort it. Holding him tight, I slid the metal barrier away, opening us up to the cool autumn wind whipping past us. Ben latched onto my leg, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the landscape zipping by. I knelt down beside him and pulled him off long enough to get us eye to eye.

"I'm scared," Ben whimpered.

"You only took the vow an hour ago and you are breaking it now?"

His face contorted to annoyance. "Nut-uh!"

"Yeah-huh. You said you would trust me to the end of the line, remember? Now you are scared. Do you think I would let you fall off the train?" I was nearly yelling at him over the wind and the roar of the engine.

"No, sir!" he shouted back, squinting.

"Good. Here we go then." With one arm tightly wrapped around his waist, I inched Ben to the edge of the cabin floor, until the tips of his shoes hung off of the side of our full-speed diesel train. A burst of air whipped up around the door, poofing the auburn crown into messy spikes and throwing Ben's head back. I got closer, hanging my chin over his shoulder and pressing our cheeks together. "Go ahead."

Ben reached down, but my arm was proving to be too big to let him easily reach anything past it with such short arms. "I can't!" he squeaked.

I had a hard time controlling my pleasure with this fact. My other arm came around him and fumbled around his front until I found the fold hiding his zipper. I undid it and drove my hand into the warm recesses of his overalls. Compared to the nippy air, his pants were an oven. A shirt blocked me, but pushing that away revealed the tight cotton underpants of a young boy and the prizes to be hidden behind them. For a few seconds, I just cradled the perfectly-wrapped collection, feeling the shape of a nub and its accompanying marbles. Then I slid up, found the waistband, and tugged it down and away.

My hand encapsulated him, penis and balls all, in the center of my palm. They were soft and plush, malleable. Encircling all of him at the end of my hand, I took his willy in my thumb and finger and pulled it away from his fly. Looking down, the sweet little circumcised head, trapped between my fingers, almost glowed pink. I happily stared at it, blushing just as pink myself.

"It is cold!" Ben said, again breaking my reverie.

"Well, go ahead! Let it all out!"

A focus came over the boy, the dedication that comes only from having only learned to control these muscles a scant few years before. But, all at once, I felt fluid pulsing through him and leaping into the wind. Ben and I opened our eyes to see his pee catching the light, almost shimmering before being left far behind. As the boy emptied himself, I hugged myself tighter to him, rubbing my cheek on his.

The flow ended, but I couldn't help but stroke the tiny cocklet a little. Ben looked at me strangely as I milked him dry as gently as I could. My thumb teased at the underside of his little shaft and urethra, calling out subtle twitches in him. I had always had my doubts about the sexual responsiveness of a child his age, but there was no denying the fact that Ben's little dick inflated at my extra touch. What was once so easily turned and twisted stood up on its own. When my fingers let him free, the inch and a half bobbed gently on the wisking air. Without stimulation or heat, though, it quickly shrunk back down.

I tucked his cock back into his underwear and redid his fly. I let my hand hang on his front for a few seconds before finally retreating. Finally, before closing the door, I gave Ben a quick peck on the cheek.

"That was scary!" Ben said as I locked the door.

"Just scary?" I asked.

"Fun too!"

"Good. I thought so too." I nodded, then got an idea. "That's our first code word, I think."

"What?"

"'Draining the dipstick, we will call it.'"

Ben gave me a wink. "Got it!"

Having him like that was driving me nuts. I was raging hard ever since. As guilty as I felt taking advantage of his needs like that, it was a dream come true. And if he bought into it like I set it up, no one would ever know and my dreams would come true. Ben was so fucking cute it was overwhelming. The trust was so complete, it seemed. I wanted to just stop the train and have my way with him. Or switch lines and never give him back.

I decided to just go as far as I could with Ben while I had him. And I was going to start making it happen as quickly as possible.

"Hey, Ben," I began, focusing on the controls.

Ben leaped up from the rocking chair and hurried to my side, excited for a new task. "Yes sir!"

"My tummy feels funny. Can you rub it for me?"

In response, two excited hands landed squarely on my abs and started rubbing in circles, pushing around what little fat and flesh they could through the two layers blocking their way. Even though Ben put no intention into it, his roaming turned me on. Innocent as he was, it kept me hard.

"That's nice, Ben," I said, sighing. "Can you rub a bit lower?"

He nodded, sliding down past my belly button. It seemed oddly easy for him to explore when facing overalls. The fear of crossing a waist band was non-existent. So he explored every direction with his rubbing. Every once in a while, an errant hand would find the tip of my cock. Every time he did, I would sigh and compliment him on his rubbing. Bit by bit, he began to go lower more often.

"Oh buddy, right there," I whispered when his palm rubbed across the head of my stiff cock through the jeans.

"Here?" he asked, stopping his hand on me and squeezing the outline.

"Yes. Work on that there..."

Two kindergarten hands grasped my cock and started stroking it. I let out a groan of pleasure. I looked down to see his face intently staring at my crotch and working it carefully. My dick was straining against the pressure of his boy paws on me and the tight overalls keeping us separated. I gave up trying to stand on my own as the pleasure took me, relying on one hand by the controls to keep me up.

"Is this good?" Ben asked, looking up to me expectantly while jacking away at me through my pants.

"It is great, Ben. Real great"

"What is this thing?"

"That's my cock," I muttered, trying to stifle another moan.

"What's that?"

"Its what grown-ups call pee pees."

Ben thought on this a moment. "Its big..."

"Yeah, it is. And when its big, it needs to be relieved."

The word turned on a light bulb in Ben's head. "How?"

I brushed his hands away and unzipped my fly. I unceremoniously threaded my cock and balls through the front of my boxers and out of my jeans. My six-incher pointed lewdly forward, less than a foot from his face, a bead of pre-cum on the tip. Ben just stared at it wobbling gently in the cool air like it was the most amazing invention he had yet come across.

"Well?" I asked.

Ben looked up, confused.

"Get back to it, relief crewman."

Ben stared down my dick for a few more seconds before taking it into his hands. "Its warm."

"And about to get warmer. Now polish that crankshaft."

Ben grinned, knowing he added a new code word to his book and began to pump. His hands couldn't even get around my dick and he needed both of them to jack even half of my shaft. I watched him lean forward, almost bopping himself in the nose with each downward stroke. My pre quickly was caught up in his hands, lubricating my cock as he went.

The whole thing was beyond belief. This beautiful little boy gladly holding my dick, trying to relieve me. Inexperienced as he was, the sheer fact that it was happening did half of the work for him. As his arms pumped away at me, I whispered sweet nothings to my boy, cheering him on. I was beyond thought, a sweaty, lusty engineer with needs. And I would have them.

As he pounded down on me, I stepped forward, feeling my sloppy cock head slide up his cheek once, then twice. Ben tried to step back, but he had nowhere to go but up against the console. Still, he didn't stop. And stroke by stroke, I drew on his face with clear juice. His face became slack with surprise and he slowed down as the sticky fluid touched his lips. He looked up at me, as if to ask if we were done.

I took my cock up and steered it to his puffy, pink lips. Slowly, I drew the head of my cock across them, applying a gloss of pre. Light from the window flickered across his face, lighting up his cheeks and lips like I had put glitter on them. Ben looked up at me, past the engorged cock before him, to my face, all flush red and half there. We were both a bit mesmerized by what was happening. I doubted he understood what was going on anymore. And I didn't much care in the moment.

The tip of my cock gently laid on the ledge of his bottom lip. With my other hand, I stroked his cheek gently. "You are doing an amazing job, Ben. The best," I said, a hint of pride in my voice. "Now, it is time to blow that whistle." Tucking a thumb under the six year old boy's chin, I pulled his jaw down enough to part his wet lips. Ben may not have understood what this relieved, but he didn't resist as I slid myself into his open mouth.

Warmth wrapped around the head of my dick, making me weak in the knees. I began to furiously jack the rest of my shaft as I stared down at those lips locked onto the end of me. At first, Ben didn't do much of anything but let me rest in his mouth. But, after more words of encouragement, his tongue began to lap at the underside of my cock as it remained encased in his wet mouth. Instinctively, I hunched in and out a bit, but tried to hold back from tapping the back of his little throat.

"Fuck, Ben," I groaned, unable to keep the respectable demeanor of an adult. As I held his cheek, I could feel his tongue squirming, my cock thrusting, lewdly past his baby boy cheek. His eyes were closed tight, not yet accustomed to the activity. I remarked at the incredible image of a six year old boy dressed up as a little train engineer, cap and all, with a man's dick stretching his lips wide open.

Pressure was building up. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to close my eyes and howl. My hand pounded away as the kindergarten-aged boy's lips stroked and teased my flaring dick. A part of me wanted to warn him, but I couldn't get any words out. I just let out a gutteral moan and released.

I didn't hear Ben cough as the first volley blasted into the back of his throat. I didn't try to to stop him from pulling off of me to catch his breath. I didn't stop jacking myself off as the second and third shots took off, hitting his chin and then splattering across the shirt under his overalls. And as the rest dribbled across my hand, I didn't stop looking at Ben wetness from his eyes.

Stepping back, I dropped to the cab floor, bathing in my afterglow. Ben, finally freed from the console, stumbled after me. Little hands wiped at his bright-red, raw face, trying to clear the syrupy juices that covered him. His shirt had large spots on it, having already absorbed the last of my essence. On his face, a mixture of fear, uncertainty, and worry.

"Ben..." I started, regaining my capacity for speech.

"I..."

"You did great, Ben. I'm sorry I scared you like that."

The little engineer shuffled over, standing in between my outstretched legs. "It was a lot."

"I know, buddy. But you did it better than anyone else I ever saw." My mind was racing. I hadn't considered his emotions maybe making him change his mind. If I didn't sooth him somehow, my life, I knew, was over.

"...really?" Ben seemed doubtful.

"You bet." I hooked the sides of his overalls and dragged him into my lap, laying him on top of my still half-erect cock. I hugged him tight, kept his face close to mine. "Ben, you are the best relief crew ever. I don't know what I would have done without you. Are you ok?"

Ben nodded, though he didn't seem too convinced of the fact.

My mind reeled. I needed to find a way to make it better, to boost his spirits some. Candy? Lunch? Play games? I wasn't a child specialist. Would he like it if I returned the favor somehow? Could a little boy feel an orgasm like an adult could? Or find satisfaction in being played with like that? I wasn't sure that it was worth the risk. Despite the fact that Ben was laying across my dick, holding him close seemed somehow appropriate.

So I sat there on the cabin floor, stroking his back with his face buried in my chest. And Ben did relax. Had I imagined this moment on my own, alone in my room, I might have expected to be groping him with another raging hard on. But I wasn't and didn't. I felt somehow fatherly, just warm knowing that he was comforted like this. And though my hand did find his bottom once or twice, I put no desire into it.

Together, Ben and I rested in each other's arms. My worry about him quickly dissolved when I saw him smile again, snuggled into my shoulder. That's when I knew that it was all going to be alright. Who knew if I was ever going to get anything like that out of him again, but I thought at least I would get to be able to continue to touch him, since that hadn't become an issue. Besides, he was just too cute to keep my hands off of.