INTRODUCTION- Esteemed Readers, I live in an apartment building on the west side of Manhattan. I made the acquaintance of a young lady. On an occasion when we were both using the laundry room in the co-op basement. Over a period of several months we became quite friendly.
I enjoyed talking to Stella because she had no problem being frank about her sexual adventures. So many women are unable to admit that they are sexual creatures as are men. Since there is a good bit of an age difference between us we became confidants and friends, not lovers.
I soon realized from her stories that she was quite promiscuous. I found her very sexy. She is a 30 year old 5'6' blond with a pretty face, two great tits and a great ass. She usually wears short skirts and her legs are to die for. Because of our age differences I consider her off limits.
She texted me, the evening of this upsetting occurrence on the Subway, asking me to come by and give her a hand. She was to my consternation, beat up, bruised and had trouble walking. I had to help her get to the bathroom so she could pee.
Of course seeing her in this condition, she told me what happened.
This story is as close as I could get, to putting it in her own words. She gave me permission to write it down. as It is a painful story, but quite erotic. I thought it would make a good entry in the summer contest. Please read on and give it a good vote if you enjoyed the story and please favor it.
Thanks. As always, your comments and emails are welcome.
All the best to each of you, Erectus123
MY SUMMER NYC SUBWAY GANG BANG ( as told to the author)
Call me Stella, everybody does.
It was a warm summer New York evening. I was just beginning the summer term of graduate study. When the class ended, I was on my way back home.
I walked over to 8th Avenue where I take the Express Subway train uptown. I share a small one bedroom flat with Harriet, my girlfriend. She pays a little extra and has the bedroom. After all it is her apartment. I use the living room where I have a Queen Size bed.
The arrangement works nicely, although being right next to the entry, I've been surprised on occasion in the middle of orgasm, when Harriet and her Mom, returning from a shopping trip, burst in on us.
If I'd been using my vibrator under the bed sheet I would have gotten away with it. It's hum is not that loud. On that day, I was busy entertaining the Chinese Delivery guy. I call him Long Dong, that's more or less what he calls himself. He hardly speaks English, but he is a good fuck and cums fast. He drops by when he has to make a delivery in our building. He prefers rear vaginal entry so there I am, nude, bent forward on my knees as the door flew open. Naturally both of the ladies got a quick glance at his big yellow cock skewering me under my red ass. Oh well, too late to cry over spilt cum.
Anyway, the day of the blackout I was returning from a graduate Anthropology Seminar class. My mind was somewhere out there in Papua, New Guinea imaging I was Margaret Mead. Mead wrote some seminal literature about the sex customs of the natives and the inside word is she had plenty of sex with them as well. Why not?
If you open her book, the first photograph is of a Papuan couple nude. Wow, does that guy has a gorgeous penis? Too bad it is flaccid.
Maybe some of you have heard about the New York blackout. It occurred two months ago in the early summer, to be precise on July 13. It lasted about 6 hours. If you were outside that evening when the blackout struck, it got dark, no lights were working and stores closed up their metal gates, afraid of looters. The traffic lights were off and traffic slowed to a crawl. Private citizens began to direct traffic.
Anyway, that is what I was told, because you see, I was in a stopped Subway car, stranded underground, in the dark, being gang banged by 7 people.
Ok, I'm very promiscuous, I am a damn whore who doesn't charge, but believe me girls, nothing beats seven fast sex acts by strangers in the dark. Even as I'm writing this my pussy is cranked up and swollen, damp and pulsating. I'm excited to even think about that night.Yeah, I know. Call me a dumb blond.
It started innocently enough. Ok, maybe I was dressed a bit provocatively, but it was summer and I wanted to look sexy as I had my eye on the grad assistant who I wanted to fuck. Unfortunately that evening I'd learned from one of the students, that he was newly married, so that plan went up in smoke.
So there I was, seated on one of those molded light blue plastic Subway seats. There were only a few people in the car since it was dinner time and rush hour was over. There were two Hispanic guys directly across from me. They were dressed in blue jeans and colored tee shirts with those Japanese Manga figures. They were both about the same build, maybe 5'6". Their hair was shiny black and long, over their ears.
I thought they were kind of cute until they kept eyeing me and talking rapidly. I could tell they were talking about me, the "puta blanca con las tetas grandes." I know enough Spanish to figure that out. (the white bitch with the big tits). I didn't know whether to be insulted or complimented but when one of the guys touched his crotch with his pinky and with his second finger pointed at me. I just looked away. In retrospect I'd have to call on Don Tete and Don Cono based on their preferences.
There was a middle aged black guy a few seats away who looked like an executive, well dressed in a tan summer suit and thin tie, reading the evening newspaper. He had a brown textured leather briefcase that he held in his left hand . On his right wrist he wore a large gold colored watch with a white face that would flash as he turned the pages. He hardly ever looked up except to glance when we passed a station. He was the kind of well manicured man you would welcome into your neighborhood. Probably had a bunch of college bound kids. He told me to call him Mr. Charles.
Standing a few feet away, hanging onto the overhead strap, was a clean cut college boy with a head full of curly hair. He was wearing a Harvard Tee shirt. He looked to be in his late twenties. I wondered if he actually went there or it was an artifice. I came to call him Torpedo for obvious reasons. He was about 5'10" wearing tight khaki shorts. Not the short ones the gay guys wear, but down to a few inches above his knees.
He smiled at me a few times but I just looked down. Every so often he touch his crotch as if it was a careless gesture but each time he did it, a protuberance underneath seemed to grow. I felt like laughing but in trying to hold back, I couldn't help grinning at him. When my grin slipped out he caught it and winked. I thoughtlessly nodded my head, too surprised to do anything else. I came to call him Torpedo because his actions were unexpected.
There was a homeless guy seated five or six seats down across from me. He was dark skinned, maybe from the Caribbean. At first glance I thought he might be retarded. His head was at an angle to his body and his eyes seemed unfocused. I figured he was planning to ride the subway all night so he'd have a place to sleep. His shoes were broken and a thick piece of black duct tape was strapped around them holding the sole to the upper. His brown soiled pants were loose and baggy with holes.
Instead of a belt he had a white electrical plastic cord passed through the belt loops and tied tight around his waist. His gray long sleeve shirt was stained and his dark uncut hair was headed in all directions. There was a curious oval of grey hair on the side of his head facing me. He had a scruffy beard and a mustache that melted into the unshaven whiskers on his face. He kept talking to himself or maybe he was singing but with the subway noise I couldn't figure it out. He seemed to be in his own fantasy world and I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
A nice looking tall muscular young white guy seated to the far left. I'd call him Max. Maybe he was 23 or 24 years old, wearing shorts and a cut off tee shirt. He had a military buzz cut, a thick neck and a small anchor tattoo on his shoulder. He had rested a gym bag on his lap. I wasn't sure if he was coming from or going to the gym. He had a cigarette stuck over his ear and a small Christian medallion around his neck. Every so often he took a drink from a clear plastic water bottle. I had to admit, most women would have found him attractive. The ripped physique, the military manor, what's not to like?
He wasn't paying me any attention. I took my eyes off him fairly quickly. There was something hidden about him that I didn't want to know. Maybe he was just well manered or perhaps he was gay. I learned to my cocernation tha he was neither well manored or gay although his interest in anal might have qualified him as a bisexual? I'm told that guys into ass don't care if that ass is male or female and male is as easy to find as entering any gay bath house.
A dikey looking short gal with a big nose was seated to the left of me near the sliding door. She had a ridiculous dye job. Her hair was strawberry colored. She had a teardrop tattoo under her left eye. She was wearing a colorful blouse slit at the top so you could get a look at her cleavage. The blouse had big flowers on it. She had a piercing on one side of her nose that looked like a small golden sphere. From one nostril septum to the other was a silver piercing. She had a small pocketbook on a thin strap that went over her head. She was busy reading a paperback but I couldn't make out the title, Something by Daniel Steel. She was to surprise me, she looked dikey but she have other tastes.
I've learned you can't tell who or what people are by their outward appearance, another reason I don't do internet dating. I made my judgements but I was far from accurate. Wearing a Christian medal doesn't mean you are a Christian, and easy smile doesn't mean you have mercy, a downward glance doesn't mean you have piety. After all is said, when men have the opportunity to display their power over women, watch out. They will fuck you without a single thought. Just be glad they don't kill you after they fill your cunt with their seed!
