"Crowded" didn't begin to describe the subway at this time of day.
Like little salty fish in a can, people were pressed tightly together within the metallic walls of the train car as it rushed from station to station. Flickering on and off, the sickly light cast by the florescent bulbs above did little to cure the claustrophobic feeling that hung thick in what little air there was. The people were a mix, as they stood clasping the handles over their heads, or sitting upon the barely cushioned seats.
Buried within this sea of bodies, she stood near the doors. Her back to the rest of the humanity in the car, she looked out at the rapidly passing walls of the tunnel. Refocusing her eyes, she looked upon the reflection that stared back at her in the glass of the sliding doors. A simple blouse and skirt covered her, along with a jacket for the chill that had settled as of late. The sparkle of her eyes had dulled just a bit from fatigue; their light blue-grey color, however, still shone brightly even within the image cast by the tinted glass. The long dark hair that fell to her waist had been gathered into a slightly off center braid. The sudden memory that came to her then, as she pulled the thick length of hair over her shoulder, made her lips bow into a smile.
She had been visiting a dear friend in another city. A friend whose young daughter was insistent upon trying out her braiding skill. With a kind heart, and a young girl looking at her with pleading eyes, it was understandable why she gave in, and allowed her long lovely hair to be used to train tiny fingers. Though it was a bit off kilter, all in all, the braid had come out very well. The pride that beamed from that little face was more then thanks enough. The rest of the visit was just as fun and full of smiles.
Now, she was heading home, eager to see her darling.....
Her eyes shot open, her body jerking to attention.
Someone's hand was touching her rear!
Given the tight confines of the train, she would have put it off as just an accident. That is, until that same hand began to squeeze. Strong fingers dug lightly, but very noticeably into the tender flesh of her buttock through the thin fabric of her skirt. Her breath caught in her throat; unable to speak, she tried turning around, ready to smack the pervert who had the nerve to fondle her. Yet, it was impossible to move, let alone turn around, but her effort alone seemed to stop the unknown's advances, for the hand left her body. She started to relax, relieved to be free of the...
She nearly jumped when, again, her left butt cheek was kneaded by a strong hand!
She couldn't believe it! She tired moving her arm, perhaps to elbow the attacker. But there where too many people behind her, she couldn't tell which it was that had their hand on her. She looked up into the reflection on the doors. So many faces, she couldn't tell who it could have been.
The thought of screaming came to her mind, as that hand continued its dance over her rear. Yet, just as she took in the air, she thought against it. Even if she did yell, how would it help? The one doing it would just stop, melting back into the crowd, who would have been looking at her like she was crazy. No, she didn't just want it to stop, she wanted to get the bastard doing it! It was then she decided to wait, hoping that perhaps, if she kept watching those behind her, the one responsible would somehow show himself. And so, she stayed quiet, though she did move closer to the doors, thinking that maybe he would move as well, breaking his cover. But, instead of one moving, it seemed the entire crowd moved right with her, all the while, the hand on her kept right on with its fondling. Now she was truly stuck, pressed against the doors as she was, she had nowhere to go.
As if sensing her predicament, the hand made a move that made her gulp her fear. She felt her skirt being bunched into a ball, before it was raised up to her hips! She was exposed, nothing but a pair of panties protecting her now. It didn't take long for that hand to fill itself with the flesh of her ass again, this time she could feel the roughness of the fingers as they pressed into her own soft smooth skin. She still was unable to believe that this was happening. Here, on a crowded city subway, in front of so many people, she was having her rear fondled, ravaged by a stranger, and she couldn't even tell who.
The last thought made her body shiver, as a tingling ran over her skin, up her spine, where it made her gasp. It couldn't be, she thought! Was she....starting to enjoy this?
She looked at herself in the doors, just as a station zipped past them. How could she enjoy this?
She didn't get the chance to answer her own question. Emboldened by the quiver her body had given, the hand managed to slip its fingers between the fullness of her thighs. She squeaked in shock, pressing her legs together in an effort to stop him. The pressure only served to lock his fingers where they were, nestled to either side of the warm mound beneath the cover of her panties. Then, they moved. Her eyes grew wide, as electric arcs seemed to crackle from between her legs. Her breath was stolen, as her most intimate place was stroked, a finger on either side, moving slowly over the smooth silk of her panties. Her knees felt weak, almost giving out beneath her. She had to lock them, but in the process, her legs spread, loosening their hold. The hand now had full access to her. The handle she held above her was squeezed as her grip tightened, bracing her for what was to happen next.
But she was once more in for a surprise.
The hand pulled back, taking itself from the growing heat it had been stroking, coming to rest again upon the half moon of her ass, and resuming it's kneading. She suddenly found herself panting, ripples of pleasure still echoing from where he had touched...a stranger's touch. A touch she felt herself craving more of.
