It was rush hour, and it was crowded in that car. Always is, and usually I hate it. Squeezed into a corner of the train, clinging desperately to the handrail above me as I'm surrounded by men and women coming home from work or shopping or whatever it is they did that dragged them out into the misery we shared. I feel arms and knees and elbows and backs all around me, crushing me alive.
People reading newspapers or magazines or looking out the windows or talking to each other, trying to forget how uncomfortable they all are. Every bump and lurch of the subway car causes us to sway, and I'm forced to sway with them. It's all I can do to hang onto the rail, yet I feel like if I let go, I'll still remaining standing, held up by the flood of people surrounding me.
It was in this state that I was in the train pulled into the Cortelyou Station. At this stop, as at every stop, I was hoping silently that some of the people would get off and ease up on the pressure. I watched some of them filing off with relief, but not enough of them left. And more began to file in. Then more. I grit my teeth as they forced themselves into the already crowded train, being compacted slowly. Finally, the doors closed and we began moving again, even more crowded than before.
It was only when we had been going for a while that I noticed the woman in front of me. She was very attractive as she looked down at a newspaper she was reading. Her long red hair fell down over the shoulders of a green blouse, and I glanced down to see her curvy body was being hugged by a light black skirt. She was facing away from me, and I realised with a jolt that the crowds had positioned us so that my crotch was pressing up against her rear.
I tried to look away and not think of the awkwardness of the situation. She didn't seem to have noticed. Yet, as the train swayed on the tracks, I found myself being pushed up against her, again and again. I could feel the curves of her asscheeks through her skirt against my body, and with every bump I was pressed up against them. It didn't take much imagination to feel as if I was thrusting into her, over and over again, guided by the movements of the train. The only thing preventing it from being a reality were the thin layers of our clothes.
It was so easy to imagine those clothes being gone. I couldn't help thinking about it. In fact, it wasn't an unappealing thought. I glanced down at her, then tried to focus on a cigarette ad on the wall as I was bounced into her again and again. She shifted a little, and her butt rubbed against my crotch.
It was too much for me. I felt a chill of horror as I felt my body begin to respond. I swelled in my jeans, and the sensations increased as I moved against her, causing me to swell even more. Within seconds, I was hard as a rock.
Sweat broke out on my face as I realised she was going to notice. She would feel my hardness against her, and realize she was pushing up against a pervert. She'd be disgusted and react with horror and scream or pull away, which would be just as bad because I was enjoying it despite myself. I bit my lip, trying to will my body to respond, and waiting for her to react.
Yet nothing happened. She continued to read the newspaper as I bounced against her rear, as if nothing was happening. She had to have noticed. Maybe she hadn't, was all I could think. Maybe she would think it was just an elbow or something and I'd get away with it. I felt a little relief, but decided not to push it. I had to end this before it got out of hand.
I shifted myself around a little to turn my crotch away from her ass as much as I could. Then I felt a shock as a hand touched my hip. It tucked a finger into the pocket of my jeans and pulled me until it had turned me around again, so that my crotch was buried in her cheeks once again.
The woman in front of me glanced up from her newspaper. Her blue eyes locked on mine, and I felt the full impact of what was happening in that brief moment before she looked down at the paper again. It was her hand that had pulled me back. It was she who had pulled me back into her. The message was clear. She didn't want me to stop.
Daring not to breathe, I began to sway with the train a little more. I tried to make it look as if it was just the movements of the car, but moved with it to push myself against her. My hips bounced lightly against her rear, deeper against her. I felt pressure with every thrust. She was pushing back at me. Among these crowds of people, we were silently making fucking motions toward each other.
I leaned my head back as I pushed harder against her. Pleasure flowed through me as I felt her warm body against mine. Looking down at her, I could see her cheeks were growing pinker and she was gripping the newspaper tighter. I glanced around us. No one seemed to notice or care. It was just the two of us in a sea of people.
I let go of the rail with one hand, and slid it down casually. I let my hand drift between us to cup one cheek of her ass. I squeezed it lightly, and I heard her inhale sharply as she pressed against it.
When I felt her hand again, it wasn't as surprising as the last time. Her fingers slid to my zipper and pulled it down. Then her hand slipped into my jeans and pulled my swollen shaft free of my briefs. Freed, it sprang out and pushed against her ass.
As casually as I could I lifted her skirt. It was only then that I discovered she wasn't wearing anything underneath, because my cock buried itself inside her bare ass. I was soaking wet by then and my preseminal fluids along with the natural rhythm of the bouncing train made quick work of what might have been awkward in other circumstances.
She clenched her cheeks together, gripping my shaft tightly as I thrust back and forth against her. I clutched the handrail tighter and heard her newspaper rustle as she tightened her grip on it as well. She was breathing heavily as I began to push harder and faster into her, rubbing her crack with my hardness.
Then she bit her lip and gave off a soft squeak. I felt her cheeks clenching in rhythm as she came, and the sensation sent me over the edge. I couldn't hold back a grunt as I climaxed in her. I felt my come shoot into her. We were pressed together, shuddering, surrounded by people, but not caring.
The train gave off a whine as it pulled into the next station. I flushed with panic as I hurried to tuck myself into my clothes again and zip up the fly. Her hand swept her skirt into place. We arranged ourselves just in time as the train came to a stop and the doors opened.
People began to file out. The woman turned away from me and I heard the rustle of paper. Then she tore off the edge of her newspaper. She slipped it into my hand as she looked up at me once more. Her expression was calm and neutral, but I saw a flicker of amusement in her eyes for a brief moment. Then she walked out with the others. I caught a glimpse of a glistening wetness running down her inner thighs as she walked away.
I looked down at the paper she had given me. It had a hastily scribbled message on it that read: "I'll be on this train next Tuesday. Hope you will too."
I guess rush hour isn't so bad, after all.