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
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
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
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
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
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.