A Train Car Named Desire Ch. 02

She thought of some of the shorter men who dated her mother. Yet, fortunately, for her to have giant sons and a tall daughter, she must have had sex with some very tall men. Her much older, four brothers, born from three different men, all had sex with their mother before she was even born. Her eldest brother Freddie, at 6'2" and 230 pounds, was the shortest of her mother's sons. The twins, Vito and Guido were 6'6" tall and 260 pounds. Big Louie, the youngest of the lot was 6'9" tall and weighed more than 400 pounds.

Having never known her father and with her four brothers continually having sex with their mother, she suspected that one of her brothers was her father. Only, which one? She didn't know. Yet, how fucked up is that for a mother to not only have sex with her sons but to allow one of them to get her pregnant? Is it any wonder that she has issues? Is it any wonder that she'd allow a strange man that she never met masturbate her on the train platform? Is it any wonder that she'd willingly suck his cock and allow him to cum in her mouth?

With my mother 5'10", tall for a woman back then, when my mother was born nearly 70-years-ago, she enjoyed telling anyone who asked that she worked as a model for a living. Yet, the only modeling she ever did was to dance around a pole while stripping off her clothes. Suffice to write, Mom, Natalie, Natty for short, was a stripper, a whore, and a prostitute. Suffice to write, my mother had a spectacular body then, and she still has a sexy and shapely body even now,' wrote Susan.

'No doubt, men would still pay to see her naked and have sex with her,' she thought while continuing to write her thoughts in her diary. 'Nasty Natty, was the nickname that her Johns gave her.'

Susan thought of all the men that her drunken and high on drugs mother invited home to have sex with her while she hid in her bedroom afraid that they might hurt her.

'Indeed, whether pretending that she was modeling clothes or stripping off her clothes, especially after sucking their cocks, my mother was the sexual fantasy of many men. When she wasn't removing her clothes as a stripper, she removed her clothes as a hooker. As long as they had enough money in their pockets to pay, she'd be the dream and sexual fantasy woman of many men for an hour or for the night,' wrote Susan.

With her having sex with strangers while I lay sleeping in my bed, pushing it across the floor every night, I barred my bedroom door with my heavy chest of drawers. Unless she needed their help in collecting her fee or in retaliation for someone beating her or robbing her, my brothers turned a blind eye to their mother prostituting herself. With them committing their own crimes as protection men and mob enforcers, as long as she continued giving them sex and earned money, they didn't care how she earned it.

'What a family? The all-American family,' thought Susan.

# # #

'Interestingly enough, many of the models and ex-strippers that I know are with shorter men,' she wrote in her diary. 'One just has to see the men that celebrity women have chosen. Christie Brinkley with Billie Joel, Katie Holmes with Tom Cruise, Nicole Kidman with Keith Urban, and Charlize Theron with Sean Penn, there are plenty more examples of shorter men with taller women.'

She remembered again all the short men that dated her mother. She remembered all the short men who dated her. A dating phenomenon, with shorter men obviously attracted to taller women, oddly enough and conversely, taller men are sexually attracted to shorter women. Perhaps, dating height has to do more with control and domination. With shorter men wanting to control taller women, taller men want to dominate shorter women, whereas women just want to get married and have a baby.

'Then, again,' she wrote. 'Many short men have lots of money. By and far, seemingly shorter men have more money than taller men. Apparently, between money and height, one has much to do with their other. Evidentially, as if a competitive game that men secretly enjoy playing, driven to succeed, shorter men derive an internal satisfaction of being more successful than their taller counterparts.'

She thought again about the man on the commuter train. He was tall, taller than her. Perhaps, the exception to the rule, he preferred taller women to shorted women. With everything seemingly, a blur, perhaps, he wasn't staring. Perhaps, he had just forgotten to wear his eyeglasses.

'Yet, whether tall or short, in the way that he continued staring at me was something else. In the way that he seemed hypnotized by my arm and mesmerized by my armpit was something new. His uninterrupted stare of my arm and my armpit was something different,' she wrote in her diary. 'A man seemingly being sexually taken with my arm and my armpit rather than with my tits and/or with my ass was something that I had never experienced before.'

As if he was standing before her now while staring, while recording all that happened in her diary, she envisioned the man on the commuter car.

'Instead of undressing me with his stare, he undid me with his stare. As if he was someone I once dated, he stared at me as if he knew me. As if he was psychic, he stared at me as if he could read my mind. As if he was Superman, he stared at me as if he could see through my clothes. As if he was a holy man, he stared at me as if he could search my soul. Before even admitting that truth to myself, he stared at me as if he somehow knew that I was a cocksucking whore,' she wrote.

'How could he know all of those things about me without even seeing my face,' she thought. 'As I had a sign on my forehead that I suck cock and swallow cum, without even meeting me and/or introducing himself, he stared at me as if he knew what I was all about. Maybe, he is a psychic or a holy man. Maybe, I'm just self-conscious about my checkered, sexual past and my whore of a mother, Natty.'

Preoccupied with him, curious who he was, she thought more about her mystery man.

'With him at the other end of the commuter car, he continually stared at me. His stare unnerved me. As much as his stare made me feel uncomfortably uneasy, admittedly and ashamedly, at the same time, his stare sexually aroused me. Seemingly, without even trying, without even flashing him my panties, my bra, and/or my naked ass, my naked pussy, or my naked tits, by him just staring at my arm and armpit, I had another stalker,' she wrote.

# # #

She thought of her short sundress and thought of the man seated in front of her and staring up at all that he could, assuredly, see of her panty clad pussy. She thought of the man standing behind her and dry humping her dress and panty clad ass with his erection. She thought of her mystery at the other end of the commuter car staring, just staring at her. With three sets of eyes upon her, she felt unconsciously uncomfortable. Instead of men saying 'Hello,' and politely introducing themselves, all they do is stare. Perhaps, unable to do any more than to stare, they're married.

'God, I'm such a slut, but I love being a slut,' she wrote in her diary. 'It's not only true that blondes have more fun but also it's more fun being a bad girl than it is being a good girl. Good girls don't do anything or go anywhere. Bad girls are always dating, drinking, and partying.'

As curious as she was inspired by her mystery man, she continued writing in her diary about all that she noticed and imagined about him.

'As if his eyes were heat seeking missiles locked on my arm, he never looked away from my underarm. Then, raising my flight or fight instincts, thinking that he was intent on doing me harm, I felt a little threatened, albeit sexually excited by the thought of forcibly being stripped naked and taken. Yet, I wasn't afraid or worried. Already wet with sexual anticipation, if I was feeling anything, I was feeling sexually aroused,' she wrote.

She laughed to herself.

'Had I not studied martial arts; taking him by surprise and giving me the time to strike before running away, I may have panicked by his stare. Yet, unless he's as big and as strong as Hafpor Julius Bjornsson, the Icelandic strongman, who played Gregor Clegan, as Thor, the Mountain, the queen's personal bodyguard, in the Games of Thrones, I could take him. As big as my brother, Big Louie, at 6'9" tall and 400 pounds, he is a giant of a man. He played the brother of The Hound, Sandor Clegan, Rory McCann, who was a big man, too, at 6'6" tall,' she wrote.

# # #

'Dear Diary,

Having grown accustomed to men routinely staring at me while undressing me with their eyes, this man stared at me as if I was already naked. Yet, oddly enough, he wasn't undressing me with his eyes. He stared at what little he could see of me as if I was already naked. Glad that I shaved my armpits, he stared at my arm and at my underarm. Not once turning his head to look away, as if his stare was transfixed, seemingly, not wanting to miss anything, he never removed his eyes from me,' she wrote.

Replaying and recording everything in her mind, she continued writing all that happened on her commuter train ride to work in her diary.

'Ducking down and hiding myself within the crowd of passengers, not only did I not want to see him staring but also, I didn't want to give him any encouragement by looking. The last thing that I wanted to do was to make eye contact. Having had a few already, I didn't need another stalker stalking me. Impossible to get rid of them even after going to the police and petitioning the court for a restraining order, the last thing that I wanted to do was to have another weirdo follow me to work and/or follow me home,' she wrote.

She laughed while talking to herself for no one to hear.

"Get away from me pervert! I'm a black belt in martial arts," she said even though she wasn't while striking a stance in her bedroom and looking at herself in her full-length mirror. "I have mace," she said practicing while pretending to reach for it in her purse and with that always at the ready, just in case. "And I have a gun," she said reaching in her pocket as if her finger was the barrel of a gun, a snub nosed .38 revolver.

'Yet, not worried too much about him, other than him invading my privacy by staring, all he could see was my hand and arm holding the train strap. So that I wouldn't fall, I hung onto the strap,' wrote Susan in her diary. 'Yet, with door to window of people and the car filled to compacity, I had nowhere to move and/or to fall. The train was so very crowded that I didn't even need to hold onto the strap. I only hoped that the train didn't derail. Then, with such massive overcrowding, as if I aboard a train in Japan, we'd all be dead,' she wrote.

Again, impossible to forget, she remembered the man standing behind her. A man standing so close behind her that she stepped on his toes with her high heel shoes whenever she took a step back. As if they were both naked and about to have anal sex, she could feel him rubbing himself against her. Not wanting to call attention to herself by making a scene and saying something mean and nasty to him, she'd be getting off on the next stop anyway.

'Nevertheless, when I leaned too far back to avoid my stalker's stare, as if he had a tool in his pocket, the man standing behind me impaled my dress and panty clad ass with his erection. Then, when I leaned too far forward, with me so tall and my skirt so short, as if I was performing on stage and he was in the orchestra pit, I gave the man seated in front of me a continual up-skirt view of my white, bikini panties. Instead of being embarrassed, it made me horny to know that I was flashing him my panties,' she wrote.

Something she'd always remember, usually such a boring and uneventful ride, she thought back on her commuter train ride with sexual arousal.

'Surrounded, the best that I could do to avoid being dry humped, to avoid being up-skirted, and to avoid my stalker's stare, was to stand still and crunch down a little,' she wrote. Nonetheless, when she thought about the man seated in front of her, she became sexually aroused that she had flashed him her white, bikini panties. 'Trapped, as if I was deliberately flashing the man in front of me, I couldn't have planned my flashes any better.'

She thought about the horny and sexually satisfied smile of the man staring up at her after staring up her short skirt at her white panties.

'After a while, with the side-to-side, rocking motion of the train, the man dry humping my ass with his pants clad erection was making me horny. While wondering how big his prick was, all that I could think about was his erection humping my ass. With me being so horny, I imagined inviting him to fuck me. He made me want to lift my skirt, pull down my panties, and bend forward while he inserted his hard, stiff cock in my warm, wet cunt,' wrote Susan.

Then while imagining the man standing behind her bending her forward to fuck her, she imagined the man seated in front of her forcing her to suck his cock.

'While he fucked me from behind, with me bent at the waist and with my mouth practically in his lap, I imagined sucking the cock of the man sitting in front of me. No doubt, after seeing my panties under my skirt, after flashing him and with me horny enough to accommodate him, he'd love to cum in my mouth and all over my face. All of those Japanese videos of women being stripped naked and gangbanged on a crowded commuter train suddenly came to mind,' she wrote while thinking about moving to Japan. 'I wonder if that really happens.'

As if it really happened, taking sexual advantage of her, she imagined three men touching and feeling her everywhere through her clothes. As if it really had happened, she imagined being stripped naked and being gangbanged while they felt her big, naked tits and pulled, turned, and twisted her erect nipples. Then, having sex with them, she imagined sucking them and fucking them. She imagined three men cumming in her mouth, in her ass, and in her pussy. After they were done with her, she imagined her clothes ripped to shreds and having to hail a taxi while practically naked.

'With reactions very different, if she was morally modest woman or a whore like me, the violent act of being taken, stripped naked, and gangbanged was all dependent on the woman, of course,' she wrote. 'Nonetheless, whether she's a good woman or a whore, how awful must it be to be forced, stripped naked, and raped. Yet, as long as they don't hurt me, how sexually exciting to be forced, stripped naked, and used and abused by three men who won't take no for an answer.'

She finished writing her last thoughts in her diary for the day.

'Obviously, I was not only bored while riding a crowded commuter train but also, I was horny. I needed something sexual to occupy me. I needed a big cock to stroke, suck, and/or fuck. Unless I wanted to have random, promiscuous sex with a stranger, after breaking up with my boyfriend, my sexual partner options were limited.'

# # #

'Dear Diary,

Suddenly feeling horny, I imagined being triple penetrated with a cock in my cunt, a cock in my ass, and a cock in my mouth. Even though I've never had anal sex nor would I ever have anal sex, I was horny enough to have anal sex for the first time. In the way that it felt when I lost my virginity so very long ago, I imagined that it must hurt the first time having anal sex. Suddenly, I imagined being brutally and sexually ravished and raped by three, sex crazed men,' wrote Susan.

As horny as she was sexually frustrated, she imagined being sexually assaulted and stripped naked as if it really happened.

'No. Stop. Don't,' she imagined saying while feigning her outrage. 'You're tearing my clothes. No, not my bra. No, not my panties. Oh, my God, I can't believe you've stripped me naked. I'm so embarrassed. Please don't look at my naked ass, my naked tits, and my naked pussy. Oh, my God, I can't believe you've vaginally and anally fucked me,' she wrote while imagining being raped and gangbanged in her diary, again, as if it really happened.

Then, she imagined one of the three men leaning her forward.

'Oh, you pig. How dare you? I can't believe you're trying to stick your erect prick in my mouth,' she imagined saying with mocked outrage. She imagined them pulling her hair hard to force her to open her mouth to suck them. Dripping with cum, she imagined three men giving her a cum bath. 'I never had sex with three men at the same time before,' she thought while imagining being raped, ravished, and gangbanged and continuing to write her sexual fantasy in her diary.

She imagined sucking on one man while another man fucked her from behind. As if sexually invigorated, as soon as they were done with her, she felt supercharged. Feeling sexually and lustfully desired, nonetheless, with her imagined, violent assailants taking care of their sexual needs, she was still horny, nonetheless. She needed a real cock to stroke, suck, and fuck. At the very least, she needed someone, anyone, to masturbate her.

'I need a cigarette,' she thought even though she doesn't smoke. 'Does anyone have a cigarette,' she imagined saying after they were finished having their forced, sexual way with her? 'Someone, anyone, masturbate my pussy please. I need to cum.'

Not quite done with her sexual fantasy, she continued writing her horny thoughts in her diary.

'Knowing full well that the man sitting in front of me could see my pussy mound, my pussy slit, and my camel toe, deliberately exposing my bright, white, bikini panties to him was making me horny. Shocking him and sexually exciting him, I only wished that I wasn't wearing panties. I imagined him stealthily reaching beneath my skirt and rubbing my naked clit while fingerfucking my wet pussy. I imagined him masturbating me and having a sexual orgasm on a commuter train,' she wrote.

Again, she stared down at the man seated in front of her while wondering if he'd stick his hand beneath her short sundress and finger her pussy through her panties. She imagined him pushing her panties aside with his finger. She imagined him rubbing her clit and fingerfucking her pussy. She imagined having a sexual orgasm and cumming on the commuter train ride to work.

'Oh, God, I'm so frigging horny that if only he would, I'd let him finger my pussy. I'd allow him to rub my clit and fingerfuck my cunt. I'd allow him, a stranger that I didn't know and have never met, masturbate me, anything to cum. I need to cum. I'm so sexually frustrated that I need to have a sexual orgasm,' she thought while smiling down at the man with sexual arousal who was smiling up at her with lustful horniness.'

With so very many sexual thoughts to write, she continued writing in her diary.

'Again, while having a sexual fantasy on the commuter train, I imagined him rubbing my clit, fingering me, and fingerfucking my pussy to the continual rocking motion of the train. As if he was a gynecologist, I imagined him leaning forward to put his head under my sundress. After pulling down her panties to accommodate both men, I imagined one man licking my pussy while the man behind me fucked me from behind. Being double penetrated with a cock, a finger, and a tongue, once in a darkened tunnel, I imagined having a screaming orgasm over the sound of the train,' she wrote.

'I'm so frigging horny,' she thought. 'I need a sexual orgasm. I need to cum. I need to get laid.'

With still more to write, she continued writing in her diary.

'Now, horny enough to take sexual control, when not deliberately rubbing my ass against the man behind me, I leaned forward to give the man seated in front of me a better and longer look up my short skirt. Really giving him something to see, I continually flashed him my blonde, trimmed, panty clad pussy. Again, it was then that I wished I wasn't wearing panties. Instead of just seeing a patch of my white panties, I wonder what he'd do if I wasn't wearing panties and he saw my glistening, wet, naked, blonde pussy.'