Author's Note: As is oftentimes the case when I write a story, at some point, I see more than one possible ending to my tale. After this first post, I will have two more posts, both will be a different ending to the story.
And I always appreciate your opinion. Please rate the story, and leave a note if you like. Let me know which ending you prefer. Constructive criticism and compliments are always welcome.
*****
Fuck.
As the train pulled into the next stop, I could see that I was in for some trouble. I had meant to just take an Uber home, but my phone died so I was stuck taking the T. Usually it's no big deal at all, in fact it's faster for me to take the Boston subway, but today was one day I wanted to avoid it.
I had just finished my jog along the Charles and jumped on the Green Line at about the time the Black Women Expect Respect rally ended. I hung around the river for awhile in hopes that most of the crowd would be gone by the time I got to the T. I was way off.
I took a seat on the aisle next to a girl who looked like she was a student, probably at BU. The train was nearly empty, and I thought I had scored the perfect ride. My seatmate was lost in her music and the textbook she was studying, so I left her alone. I'm not even sure she glanced at me.
I thought that if we could get through the next T stop, I'd be safe, but as the train slowed and entered the station, I could see I had miscalculated. It was a mob scene on the platform. As the car began to fill quickly with rowdy black women, the few white riders departed. The women didn't care who they bothered, and they didn't care what the driver said. Soon the car was packed.
"Hey! Get the fuck up!" one black woman said, smacking me in the side of the head. "Ain't going to be no white privilege on this train."
"Hey! Quit it," was about all I knew to say. "I was here first."
Today she wasn't going to take any back talk from anyone, especially a white boy.
She slapped me across the face this time. I hadn't expected that, and it stung pretty badly.
"I said, get the fuck up! I'm going to sit there, and you're going to stand. My names Mercedes Brown, and I don't care who knows it."
I didn't know what to do. Fighting a black woman was not really an option. The train grew quiet as the other black women around us began to pay closer attention. I even saw a few phones focused on me. If I fought back or even talked back, those videos, edited I'm sure, would make it to the Internet, and I'd be branded a racist. In the interest of keeping the peace, I stood.
Everyone cheered, except the girl who I had been sitting beside.
"You too, bitch!" the victorious woman screamed at the girl.
"I'm not budging for you! I have every right to sit here, and you're not going to intimidate me out of it!"
She was ready to fight. Maybe the black woman respected the fight in her or maybe it was because she was a girl, I don't know, but she let the girl sit there, sandwiched against the side of the car with no escape. Or maybe it was because she had a white boy standing basically between her legs, wearing nothing more than running tights and a tight compression T-shirt.
Holding on to the strap hanging from the ceiling, I stood between the two sets of seats facing towards each other. Not that any of my other tights were any less tight, but today I chose to wear my new Rufskin running tights. Somehow, they are more form-fitting, and the waist is cut much lower, ending just above the base of my cock. With my hands raised to the strap above, my shirt was pulled halfway up my stomach, leaving almost my entire lower torso exposed.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt a set of hands begin to caress my ass. I tried to ignore it as the women around us began to chuckle, encouraging her. The hands explored the back of my legs, then moved to the sides and even up the front of my thighs. But when a hand went between my legs all the way up to my balls, I had had enough. I swatted the hand away and began to turn to tell her to stop it.
But before I could utter a word, or even turn towards my offender, the woman in front of me slammed the heel of her open palm into my balls. I went down in a heap. Before I got any strength back, the woman reached over me and pulled my T-shirt up and over my head. Then I was picked up by two women who held me upright.
"Both hands on that strap, boy."
Naked from the bulge up, I obeyed. My balls throbbed, and I was barely able to stand upright on my own. I held on tight to the strap, but with my abdomen in pain, I was still bent at the waist.
"Don't like being harassed on the train do ya, boy? Well we've had to put up with it for 200 years!" Cheers in affirmation filled the car.
She reached out and began to caress my bulge.
I know there's a law against upskirting, but I don't think there's no law against upcocking. And that's when my cock began to grow. She outlined it in my tights with her fingers, tracing it over to my right hip.
More cheers.
I began to protest, as my cock throbbed and stretched, but as soon as she pressed against my aching balls, I shut up. We had an understanding.
In a minute, she had me completely hard. The hands behind me began to caress me again, not only my ass, but my lower back. And when they went between my legs to cup my balls, I didn't protest.
"You want to feel him?" she asked the white girl beside her.
The girl was petrified. Of course she had been watching in horror, and didn't want to be pulled into it.
"No, I don't want to touch him."
