Train Me Touch Me

I quietly gasped as I felt a large hand slide slowly across the back of my skirt again. Was it by accident? Who was it? I couldn't help being hyper aware of that spot, my body almost missing the hand as it withdrew.

On a train during the morning rush hour, I had no room to turn around or move elsewhere. I dismissed the crazy thoughts in my head about the wayward hand. Of course, I'd be touched - the train was so packed that I barely had any space for myself and my shoulders were currently squeezed between a schoolgirl in her uniform and a salary man in a suit with his back to me. Touching was an obvious thing and mostly likely done by accident. It's not like the train wasn't constantly jerking around. I rolled my eyes. My brain needed to calm down. Clearly my lack of sexual intimacy since arriving in Tokyo nine months ago was finally catching up with me. Maybe this was karma's revenge for me calling quits on my 7 year lacklustre relationship before moving countries.

I tightened my fingers around the overhead hanging strap. No, I didn't even want to entertain those thoughts. I'd bullied and beaten myself up about my decision enough over these past months. Finally, I'd realised that I had no regrets, I was happy in Japan. Full stop.

So, instead I chose to find solace in the lesson plan I'd created for my English language teaching job. I winced slightly as the salary man trod on my toe, his whispered apologies in Japanese swallowed by the noise of the train. The vocabulary and grammar I wanted to teach my class rolled around in my head, filling gaps and blocking out unwanted thoughts.

The train gently slowed as it approached the next station. I sighed. My thoughts momentarily paused as I was jolted about as people pushed past me to exit the train. The schoolgirl and several other teens in matching uniforms exited. I stood to the side, and then dashed forward as a seat became available. I sighed in pleasure, it would be a little harder to be squashed this way. However, my bubble was quickly burst. An elderly Japanese lady shuffled into view, clutching her oversized green shopping bag. Her sweetly smiling face, lined and wrinkled. Fair enough. I stood again, offering her my seat which she accepted gratefully. I retraced my steps towards the door I originally stood facing, immediately being squashed between shoulders again. This time all the hand straps were taken, I bit my lip. That's what you get for being seat-greedy, Carmen.

I listened as the train station played a jingle over the speakers, announcing that the train doors would be closing. After they closed, I shut my eyes feeling the train gently jolt into motion again as I braced myself against the doors, hands outstretched...and then I felt it. My eyes flew open and I had no doubts. That was no accident.

I'd heard about molesters on trains in Japan long before I'd become an expat. However, overtime I'd managed to convince myself that such things could never happen to me. Afterall, I wasn't Japanese and definitely didn't fit the beauty standard as far as pale skin was concerned. So, I avoided using women-only train cars, I wasn't in danger, right? Think about it, in a sea of pretty Japanese women, why would they ever pick me? Now, as I felt the stranger's fingers running along the seam of my tights from under my skirt, I let out a whoosh of air. Stupid thinking, I know. His hand moved slowly around to the front of my tights as his front pressed up against my back. He gently, slowly caressed the front of my thigh, his breath warm on the side of my neck. I held my breath. My body trembled as I hyper-focused on his fingers. A scream rose in my throat, but it never made it out as the stranger wrapped his hand around my mouth, pushing his thumb into my mouth where it rested on top of my tongue. His exploring fingers under my skirt moved over my clit and began massaging it in circles over my underwear. I couldn't help the soft moan that escaped my lips.

"No screaming," a heavily Japanese accented voice whispered into my ear in English. "Unless you want me to stop." His finger continued circling my clit, awakening sensations that I hadn't felt in so long. No matter how much I'd tried to convince myself, masturbation couldn't compete with receiving pleasure from someone else. Did I want him to stop? Of course, the rational side of my brain argued. I didn't even know who this was. He could be some old, grotesque man. Also, what if someone saw him? Saw us? It's not like smart phones were illegal on Japanese trains. Well sure, talking loudly, maybe, but people could still use their phone cameras...

My eyes rolled back into my head, my body felt boneless as I felt the pleasure building. My thoughts churning around as if they were in a blender. My nipples were hard under my shirt, hard and demanding attention. The only sounds I could hear were my moans and panting and his breaths on my neck. I shuddered as his fingers strummed faster and my pussy grew wet. I knew he could feel it and it pleased him. My hips began to buck against him, grinding into his fingers. It turned me on further as I felt a hardness grow against my arse. He pushed into me and rocked slowly against me. My mind felt like it was full of cotton wool and the only thing that made sense was the pleasure he was making me feel. More, I mentally screamed, I need more!

He stopped. His hand moved away from my underwear, and he pulled the fingers I'd been absent mindedly sucking out of my mouth. The world crashed out from under my feet. NO! All the sounds came back like someone turned up the volume on their TV. I hadn't even noticed that the train had stopped at the next station. The doors across the aisle, behind us, had already begun to close with the musical jingle fading out. With that, a tidal wave of commuters poured onto the train behind me, forcing me up against the door, my face pressed flush into the window.

I didn't even know if the stranger had gone, my thighs pressed together as my pussy throbbed. The orgasm denial was way worse than usual due to the unusual amount of pleasure I'd felt. He'd caused a tsunami which greatly outdid the light stream I could cause myself.

As the train rolled out of the station, I gritted my teeth. The throbbing seemed to intensify as other people pushed and brushed their arms and bodies against me. No! I inwardly screamed. I didn't know who that was. I couldn't even turn around to see his face. I shut my eyes tightly. Carmen, you're being stupid and desperate. Sexual frustration, that was what this was. I wasn't the type of girl to lust after someone I didn't know. It had taken me two years into my previous relationship before I felt comfortable enough to lose my virginity.

It didn't help my case in convincing myself that I was okay as my pussy screamed at me to fill it with something large and long. Yet, I could ignore it. Maybe deal with this in the toilet before work.

I would be okay, right? Yes, yes, I'd be fine. Clearly, I was being melodramatic and imagining things. I bit my lip and rubbed my thighs together to distract myself from the constant aching. With a start I realised my thighs were wet with my juices, my tights soaked through. So, maybe it wasn't all in my head. The mortification made my cheeks heat. I wished I was anywhere but on this packed train. Anywhere at all.

Fingers slid over my arse, masculine hips replaced them as the hands moved up to my breasts, cupping them and rubbing the nipples through the thin shirt fabric. I shuddered, my nipples hardening further. All my nonsensical bravado disappeared as my breath escaped in a gasp. Was it the same person? Or someone new? The last thing I needed would be to become a molester magnet. He pinched my nipples with both hands and my pussy flooded with juices. He slowly moved them and partially unbuttoned my shirt, reaching into the fabric and bra. I gasped as I felt the warm, callused left hand grasp my right boob. Rolling the nipple and plucking at it. The sensation was delicious, but not enough. I needed more. So, much more. He blew on the right side of my neck and I shuddered at the combined sensation.

"You like that, don't you?" The same accented baritone breathed into my ear. I almost moaned at the sound. "Tell me what you want."

Tell him, no. I could never! I bit my lip at the pleasure-pain of him twisting and pulling at my nipple. I couldn't admit that I wanted this. Truthfully, I'd never felt anything like it before, but I couldn't admit that I wanted this. I had more self-respect for myself than that.

"Tell me." His voice, although quiet, cut through my raging thoughts. My pussy throbbed harder with every touch of his fingers. My thoughts melted away.

"Touch me." I whispered in Japanese. "I need you to touch me, make me come." I could almost feel his satisfied smile.

"As you wish." He answered in Japanese. His hands travelled down my body and forced their way between my body and the door. He swiftly tore the crotch of my tights, snaked his hand under my panties and pushed three fingers of his right hand into my vagina. The fingers on his left hand strummed my clit once more. "Mmm, so wet."

My legs nearly buckled. He somehow managed to hold me up and pleasure me at the same time. The pleasure built quicker this time, I could barely hold onto my sanity as the pleasure consumed everything including my reasoning. This time only his voice whispering dirty words into my ear and the sensations he caused my sex-starved body to feel, mattered. As I neared the peak, I begged my body to prolong the pleasure for as long as possible. Suddenly, my body gave way to a series of bone-shaking, earth-shattering spasms. A scream wrenched from my throat as my body shook and I nearly collapsed. With his hand over my eyes, he pulled my head back and his mouth provided a barrier of privacy from the rest of the train by drowning out my screams.

My mind felt clear for the first time in a long time and my body boneless and sated.

"If you want more, be here tomorrow. Same time, same car." His voice whispered into my ear. I shuddered as it tickled along my neck as the train pulled into the next station and the doors slid open behind me. This was the type of train station where a lot of people disembark, but barely any get on. So, the train finally began to empty. With my body still reeling from the after effects of my orgasm, it took me a second to awaken fully from my trance. When I did, I gasped and whipped around hoping to see the retreating back of my molester. Unfortunately, I only saw the backs of a bunch of women with their children. Thankfully, they seemed to be leaving from further down the car, so they wouldn't have been able to see anything. I squeezed my thighs together again. What was this? Did I wish to see my molester because I wanted to know who to identify to the station's security? Or who to...I don't know...thank? I mentally shook myself.

Yes, I was satisfied for now and I definitely couldn't lie that I wasn't looking forward to tomorrow, that is if I didn't give in and pleasure the life out of myself tonight. A part of me felt apprehension about doing something that went against everything I believed in. Yet, it was the most excitement I'd felt in a long time.

I blushed as I realised the front of my shirt was still partially unbuttoned, exposing the skin and fabric between the cups of my blue bra. As I quickly buttoned it, my eyes landed on the old Japanese lady I'd given my seat to. She sat clutching her large green shopping bag on her lap. Her mono-lidded brown eyes were wide as she stared into mine, shock on her features.

Without a doubt, I knew she'd seen everything...

And yet, I wasn't mad about it.