Anal Sex with Stranger on a Train 01bySusanJillParker©
Anal Sex with Stranger on a Train 1
On the way home from work, a man anally molests a stranger on a crowded commuter train.
Having been riding this train for years, Peter rode this commuter train every day, twice a day to and from work home. In all the years, never has he ever seen the train as crowded. With nowhere to put them, the train was so crowded that there were still people standing on the platform left behind. With no way to get home in this raging snowstorm, they’d have to find a hotel room or return to work to spend the night.
In the way they were packed in like sardines, he didn’t think they could squeeze in one more person but they did and continually kept doing until the doors finally slowly closed. The last train out of Springfield, Massachusetts heading for Boston’s North Station, in the way that the cars were so overstuffed with people, this commuter train could have been a train in Tokyo, Japan. If this train crashed, he was protected by and surrounded by so many human airbags. Not able to move anywhere but up, he’d be cushioned by so many bodies that he didn’t think he’d be hurt, that is, so long as the train car he was on stayed intact and didn’t disintegrate upon impact.
The last train home before they shut down the rail line for passenger and employee safety, there was a raging blizzard going on outside. Another train moving down the tracks ahead of them, the slow snowplow train in the way of an ice cutting ship carefully moving in the South Pole breaking up the ice, slowly cleared the tracks ahead of them only as fast as the tracks were covered with ice and snow again. A bumpy ride, on again and off again, the lights continually extinguished every time the train stopped and, every time the train stopped, the women would gasp and let out a little scream as if they were riding a dangerous ride at the amusement park.
Seemingly as if he was the only man mistakenly put on the wrong train during the occupation Nazi Germany during World War II, there were so very many women on this train. In the way that his body was in close contact and touching other bodies, with women wearing less clothes instead of heavy, winter coats, he only wished this was the summer and not the winter. Only how could there be a snowstorm, a blizzard in the summer? Then he thought of a catastrophe or a terrorist threat that would force businesses to close and everyone to flee the city. Maybe in the way that it daily is in Japan, overcrowded subway and commuter trains was something routine in his immediate future.
* * * * *
Feeling a bit feverishly lightheaded with all the perfume and estrogen that surrounded him, he was the only man in the passenger car. There were so very many women and so very many women’s asses on the train that he didn’t know where to look. With so many asses to see, there were small asses, big asses, fat asses, flat asses, round asses, tear drop asses, apple asses, ghetto booty asses, shapely asses, tight asses, narrow asses, skinny asses, thick asses, voluptuous asses, average asses, BBW asses, bubble asses, chubby asses, plump asses, and asses galore. Everywhere he looked, he saw women’s asses. Packed in ass Heaven as if he was a Jewish prisoner on a train headed for a Nazi death camp, so long as he really wasn’t going to be gassed and die, what a way to go?
He allowed his experienced eye to scan the crowd of women to find the perfect ass and the most receptive victim. Unable to help himself, always his eyes went to the most beautiful women first, typically a blonde with big tits and a shapely ass. Getting better at picking out the right woman, one who’d be receptive to his inappropriate gropes and sexual advances, cramped in a train with so many asses, he felt confident that he’d find his anal sexual match on this crowded train.
Off in the far distance, way down at the other end of the car, he spied his sexual match, a tall, sexy, blonde. Only with the mass of female humanity blocking his way, how would he even get there? With not even room to hold his hands up, he inched his way while allowing his horny hands to touch, to feel, and to wander across the sexy asses of women. As if he was in a new car lot feeling fenders, most women, while moving their ass out of the reach of his horny hands, were happy to be rid of him and to allow him to squeeze by them.
“How dare you?”
Grinding his cock against this ass and against that ass, he bumped that one before humping this one. As if making his way through a feminine maze, turning one way to turn to the other when spotting an ass that he’d like to be more intimately familiar with, he forced his way slowly and sexually excitedly through the crowd of women.
“Excuse me. Pardon me. Sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me. Sorry,” he said finally squeezing his way all the way down the passenger car.
At last, standing directly behind his chosen victim, he positioned himself behind her, his preferred position with women. With barely any room to stand, he stood so close to her round, shapely buttocks that he’d be hard pressed to slip a playing card between her ass and his emerging cock. With his cock firmly resting between her bulbous ass cheeks, indeed, a utopian paradise for his hardening cock, this was his true definition of nirvana.
* * * * *
When most men drove their cars back and forth to work, perhaps because of the sexy view in rubbing elbows with so very many attractive women, Peter enjoyed taking the commuter train while always hoping that an anal sexual opportunity would present itself. Not ever on a train nearly this crowded, he felt as if he was prowling the grounds of a crowded carnival, a packed concert, or a busy parade route where available women and their asses were abundant for him to rub and bump against. Fortunately for him, there were always many more women on the train than men and with today with him the only man on a car stuffed with women, today was a women’s fest bonanza.
Moreover with mostly men left behind on the platform, the men were gentlemen enough to allow the women to board first. Being that this stop was the end of the line, he got on the empty car going in the opposite direction across the way and rode it back around. When the doors opened, he was already standing on the train. When the doors opened, as if filling an empty container with fast flowing water or filling a cattle car with cattle, he couldn’t believe the deluge of women who pushed and shoved their way to get on this train.
Rather standing than sitting, with the train teeming with asses, he couldn’t count how many up skirts and down blouses, his horny eyes have been already been rewarded in seeing. He’ll be masturbating over this day later tonight while surfing the Internet for porn as his wife sleeps alone in bed with her virginal ass. An anal paradise, he was surrounded by women’s asses covered in pants, jeans, dresses, skirts, slips, pantyhose, and panties.
Everywhere he looked, as if he was Superman blessed with X-Ray vision, he imagined he saw women standing all around him wearing just their panties. White, yellow, pink, green, blue, purple, and black, he loved panties, especially bikini panties that covered firm, round, shapely asses. The only thing he loved more than asses covered in bikini panties were naked asses.
With some men breast men and other men leg men, Peter was an ass man. Even the license plate on his car, in disgust of his uptight, easily, sexually offended wife, proclaimed his proclivity for that one specific body part, ASS MAN. Funny that he’d marry a woman who only had an average ass, an ordinary ass instead of a spectacular ass, perhaps it was just coincidental that his ass fetish started after he married his wife. Perhaps the reason why his wife never rides in his car is because of his personalized license plate. Whenever they go anywhere, she drives him in her car. His favorite song, Baby Got Back by Sir Mix-a-Lot, he knew all the words by heart.
“I like big butts and I cannot lie. You other brothers can’t deny that when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face, you get sprung, wanna pull out your tough ‘cause you notice that butt was stuffed deep in the jeans she’s wearing. I’m hooked and can’t stop staring,” sung Peter to himself while staring at the ass directly in front of him.
He loved women’s round, firm asses and the woman standing directly in front of him, a tall, leggy blonde had the most perfectly beautiful ass he’s ever seen. He wished there was an Olympic event and a gold medal awarded for the most perfect ass in the world. He wished there was a Miss America contest not for beauty but for asses. If there was a gold medal awarded or a beauty contest crowned for asses, the woman standing in front of him would be a gold medal, diamond crowned winner. As if her ass was a ripe, piece of fruit, watching the movement of her hips in slow motion, every time the train moved her ass moved too. Already in the mood, he’d love to get him some of that.
Getting his body into the rhythm of her movement, as if he was a dirty dancing, salsa dancer, back and forth and back and forth, she lightly bumped him as if they were gently, slowly having anal sex for the first time. The first time she bumped him, she turned hallway around to him without her really seeing him and without him really seeing her and said, “Sorry.” Yet, with nowhere for her to go and with nowhere else he could stand, they were stuck together as if they were contestants getting ready for an ass dancing contest.
* * * * *
Going with the flow, he maintained his swaying motion as if they were having anal sex while sitting on a swing. In and out she bumped him and back and forth he lightly humped her to the timing of her bumping him and him humping her again and again. Such a delicate movement, a mastery of timing, so wanting to put his hands on her hips, he wanted to hump her harder and deeper. Yet, if he missed a beat, she’d immediately know that he was being fresh with her ass when he missed a cue and humped her ass without her bumping him. With the train being this crowded, he’s already gotten away with a lot more than he normally does when the train isn’t as pack jammed with women.
Being that she had already given him an erection with her ass movement and being that the train was so crowded to capacity if not more so, he thought he’d take a chance. With him having much more to gain, a once in a lifetime opportunity, what did he have to lose? Sandwiched by two, very large and tall, Sumo type, wrestling woman with jumbo asses, and with another very large woman standing behind him with a BBW ass, as if standing in a stall surrounded by three barrels, the view of him was blocked by their enormous asses. Eclipsed by three, giant full moons, no one could see what he was about to do with his horny hands.
Besides, if she was so opposed to him touching and feeling her ass, the train was so overcrowded that this poor woman standing in front of him didn’t even have the room to turn around to slap his face for being fresh with her ass. With her arms pinned by her side, she didn’t even have the room to raise her arms to hold onto anything. Unable to free her hands to hang on to the strap, to the rail, or to the pole, she was sardined in this crowd of feminine humanity. Yet protected by all the women standing around her and with him standing behind her, she didn’t need to hold on to anything to maintain her balance.
Ever so lightly, as if forging the signature on the back of his deceased mother’s Social Security check or writing his name in the sand at the beach while ogling half naked women, he traced the outline of her panty through her dress with the delicate touch of his fingers. A master panty tracer, having groped unsuspecting women all of his adult life, an expert at groping, sexually assaulting, and shamelessly molesting women, just by the first touch of her ass, he could tell she wasn’t wearing a slip or pantyhose, just panty. Based from his extensive lewd and lascivious, inappropriate, sexual experiences, the ones that he had the most success with in touching and feeling were the women who only wore panties. As if they were asking to be felt up and begging him to touch their asses, such whores and sluts, women who only wore panties, especially within the crowded confines of a passenger train car, were asking for trouble.
* * * * *
He hated pantyhose. They should tar and feather the gay man who invented pantyhose and ban him from residing in the United States of America. Paying an actor masquerading as a doctor to tell TV viewers in a commercial that pantyhose is bad for women’s health, Congress should pass a law outlawing pantyhose. The only people allowed to wear pantyhose should be professional football players and armed robbers. Unable to see panties through pantyhose, how dare some gay man invent something that ruins heterosexual men’s voyeuristic up skirt fun?
Yet, whoever this woman standing before him was, she was wearing his preferred attire beneath her thin dress. She was wearing panties. She was not just wearing panties, she was wearing bikini panties and he so loved bikini panties. Just by the feel of her naked, round, uplifted, ass cheeks, his fingertips were never wrong in discerning bikini panties.
Yet, more than just her bikini panties, he’s felt asses before but he’s never felt an ass like this one before. So round and so firm, yet soft in the way of the desired firmness of a memory foam mattress, she had the most perfect and perfectly shaped ass. She must have been a gymnast, a figure skater, or a champion diver, swimmer, or track star, to have such an ass. Should someone want a better ass and should someone be in need of ass implants, plastic surgeons should pay her to mold her ass.
With the train too crowded for him to do so without feeling the giant asses of the women on either side of him and without bumping in the huge ass behind him, if he could reach his hand down in his pocket, he’d pull out a quarter to bounce off the firm, shapely ass of the woman standing in front of him. Certain that he’d catch the quarter every time with the big bounce that it would no doubt take. He’d love to play that coin game all day with her phenomenal ass. He’d love to hit her ass, slap her ass, squeeze her ass, and spank her ass.
Being that he was shorter than she was, an average 5’9” tall, and with her nearly 6’ tall in her high heels, strangely enough, he was at the advantage. With just barely enough room for him to slide his arm and hand down, when he squatted just a little, he could feel the hem of her short dress. Ah, hidden from sight because of her dress surrounded by big asses, as if her hem was the secret combination to a safe containing valuables, the hem of her dress was the key to her panties.
Knowing what he was about to do, holding her hem between his thumb and index finger, just the touch of her hem sent shivers through his spine. Ever so slowly and ever so carefully, he lifted the hem of her dress as if he was lifting a shroud from a priceless piece of artwork and loosely tucked it in the top of his pants. As far as he was concerned, her beautiful ass was a beautiful work of art that he sexually treasured. God must have smiled at the angels when he created her ass.
Going slow enough for her not to feel him lifting her dress, with him not wanting to prematurely reveal his ass playing plan to her, this part of his sexual molestation was critical. Once he reached this point, make or break, depending upon her reaction, the rest would be easy or impossibly difficult. Slow but surely and inch by subtle inch, he raised the light material of her dress until, when he looked down, he could clearly see her light blue, bikini panty clad ass exposed to his horny eyes.
He moved the material of her dress out of the way and to the side of him while holding her upraised dress in place by the tightness of their bodies glued so closely together, now her blue, bikini panties were on display for his horny eyes to see. Oh, my God. Form fittingly highlighted and proudly raised up by the tightness of her bikini panties, indeed, she had an incredible ass, the most perfect ass and ass cheeks he’s ever seen.
Her ass was so round, so full, and so tight, that he couldn’t wait to touch her ass. He couldn’t wait to feel her ass. He couldn’t wait to fondle her ass. He couldn’t wait to caress her ass. He couldn’t wait to squeeze her ass and God willing, he couldn’t wait to fuck her ass.
* * * * *
Fortunately for him in this case, he was no George Clooney or Brad Pitt, and being that he was a plain, average, and nondescript man, all the other women on the train paid him no never mind. All the other women on the train were busy talking, laughing, reading, and/or talking on their cell phones, that is, those who had a cell phone signal. Free to lift her dress undetected by anyone, especially by the sexy woman standing in front of him, he did his panty work as if he was a professional safecracker or a highly successful jewel thief.
Glad that she was wearing a dress when most women wore pants on such a cold, wintry day, most certainly he was at the right place at the right time. Could this be the day that he finally realizes his sexual fantasy to have anal sex with a woman on a train? In the way that some people are proud members of the Mile High Club after having sex on a plane, he was hoping to be a proud anal member of the Laying Down Some Track Club.
Seemingly unfazed, even unnoticed, by the sexual attention that he was paying her ass, he wondered, if she felt his fingers tracing her panty line through the thin material of her dress. He wondered if she perceived a chill and knew that he had lifted up her dress to her waist. Did she know that his horny hand was ever so lightly feeling her panty and her panty clad ass? With everyone having left work early because of the blizzard, unless she was oblivious or high from having a couple of cocktails at lunch, how could she not know that he was feeling her ass through her panty? Maybe his perfect woman, she didn’t care that he was having his inappropriate way with her panty and ass.
One slow finger at a time, as if he was exploring forbidden territory and certainly he was by uninvitingly exploring the panty clad ass of a stranger. Surely, unless she was paralyzed below the waist, how could she not know he was touching her, feeling her, and groping her? How could she not know he was caressing her in a way that she’d only allow her husband, her boyfriend, her lover, her son, or her son-in-law to touch her, feel her, and grope her? Seemingly hopeful that she was having as much fun being touched, felt, and groped as he was having fun feeling her, touching her, and groping her oh, so voluptuous body, he didn’t want this sexual exchange to abruptly stop.
To be continued…