Riding Coach

Her eyes widened in shock. She let go of his dick and looked anxiously into his eyes. It was her turn to feel nervous and apprehensive. She glanced around. She had not actually done that before: pull her panties down on the train. Guys she had been with had, of course, pulled them down, the man to her left being one of them. That had been plenty enough risque and risky. Plus, when their game was done she had to get off the train with her panties still down, not so far as to be noticeable, but enough to impair her walk and make her incredibly nervous that her panties might in fact fall down the rest of the way. Her heart raced as she made her way to a women's room to fix them.

One time though she just left them clinging to her thighs for her walk all the way to her office. It was quite scary, walking along a busy, crowded, LA street with her panties bunched at her thighs, but also terribly, terribly thrilling. What if a breeze came along and lifted up her skit, revealing her panties bunched around her thighs!? A breeze would never be so strong as to lift her skirt all the way to her bottom. How often had that ever happened. But, when it was game day, she would wear short, loose skirts, and breezes would at times lift her skirt up high enough to reveal her thighs, which would be plenty high enough to reveal her bunched panties.

The gentleman who had lowered her panties had already taken her to orgasm on the train, but by the time she made it to her office she had to do herself again. She was so wet that juices were even dripping down her thigh. She was tempted to keep her panties there for the rest of the day, but at that point she felt the cost, the risk, far outweighed the benefit. There was just no way you could really explain persons you knew at work why your panties were pulled down.

In any case, this new guy, a guy she had never seen before on the train, was demanding that she pull them down herself. She certainly did not object to them being pulled down, but doing it herself was far more risky, more dangerous. She glanced behind her. There was no obvious cover there. There were a number of persons tightly packed behind her, but it was unlikely that all of them would be part of the club. She looked up at her partner, her eyes now pleading sincerely for him to reconsider. "Won't you do it, please?"

It was a reasonable request. Any real gentleman would and should assist a lady in the removal of her panties. But, today he was not being a gentleman, and he even took some pleasure in placing her in this awkward predicament. After all, was that not part of the game? "No, I really think you should be the one to do that. I wouldn't want to get into any trouble, you know."

"But I don't think I can."

"Frankly, you better hurry, as we are getting close to the next station."

The rides were quite long on this line and, as such, it was a popular choice for the club. But Paul was correct that they would be arriving at a station soon. She certainly didn't want to be trying to do this while persons are embarking and disembarking, and perhaps it would be even more difficult with the next group of passengers. It seemed really dangerous now, but waiting for the next leg of the trip could be going from the frying pan to the fire.

"Watch behind me," she whispered.

He did at least help with that. He wasn't entirely lacking in gentlemanly courtesy and consideration for a damsel in distress. He kept an eye out for any signs of trouble as she worked her panties down.

The man to his right smiled as the lady let go of Paul's cock to awkwardly reach under her skirt and struggle to grasp hold of the front waistband of her panties to pull them down. It was really rather difficult to remove your panties with just one hand, and to do so while standing up, in a crowded train, and to do so without revealing any obvious movement was most difficult indeed. She had to keep pulling down one part at a time: the front, the right side, the left side, back to the front, and so forth.

Both men smiled at her struggles. Paul slipped his left hand into his slacks pocket and, as best he could, grasped his cock. It was a bit awkward, but fortunately the pocket was deep and he kept very little in his left hand pocket. In any case, he wanted to pull his erection back to his abdomen to keep it as hidden as possible, as well as to play with himself while he watched the pretty woman struggle with the lowering of her panties.

She could do it in one swift motion if she let go of the steel bar above her and used both hands, but she feared that using both hands would be too easily detectable, particularly behind her, and imagine the embarrassment of losing one's footing as one is trying to remove one's panties on a crowded subway train.

Getting them off her bottom was particularly difficult, as there was no way she was going to reach around behind herself to get them over and past her behind. She eventually had to stop trying and turned herself around, so that her bottom was now facing her partner, and was thereby well hidden. She then reached back, under her skirt, successfully pulled her panties past her bottom, and twisted back around to face him once again, her panties now finally successfully bunched around her thighs.

She looked up at him and smiled, feeling like a successful gymnast, or at least contortionist.

Paul did not compliment her on her performance. Instead, he further instructed, "Lift it up for me. Show me."

Her eyes again widened in shock. That was also completely new. Being felt and fingered under her skirt was common and fully acceptable. But no guy before had ever lifted her skirt up, out of the obvious concern of being noticed, and certainly no guy had ever asked her to lift up her skirt. This man was either terribly experienced at their game, willing to take such a risk, or terribly inexperienced, willing to take such a risk. She certainly hoped that it was the former of the two possibilities.

With her heart racing and her face reddening, she slowly, cautiously, lifted up the front of her skirt to show him, and the other man standing to her left, who was now clearly looking past his book, that her panties were indeed pulled down.

She lifted it just high enough so that Paul could see her bunched panties. He smiled lecherously. But, that wasn't enough. "Higher," he said softly.

She knew what he wanted to see, and her face blushed deeply, her heart raced madly, as she lifted the front of her skirt up even higher. She had never gone this far with a man before, on a train that is, and it was both terrifying and thrilling. She in fact had to lift her skirt up quite high if he was to be able to see what interested him, as she was standing so close to him. She could feel the moisture leaking from her pussy as her cunt came into the harsh light of the train, open to the man's eyes.

Paul smiled broadly. It was really a very nice pussy: carefully trimmed, perhaps even thinned, as he could see fully the lady's full, lush lips, which even glistened in the light from her feminine moisture. His dick twitched with desire. He nodded approvingly, and she quickly pulled her skirt back down, looking around her once it was down to see if anyone appeared to have noticed. It would have perhaps been more informative to look around while it was pulled up, but she was just too scared to know at that point. She never felt more relieved to see that she appeared to be safe, and never more excited or aroused.

Paul removed his hand from his pocket, and the woman saw his appreciation of her exposure. His slacks were jutting way out. She briefly wondered if it would be going too far to have him slip it up inside her. Of course, she had never gone that far before, nor had she ever seen anyone do that, although her not being able to notice would have been the intention of the participants.

Paul had no intention of going that far. He was, after all, only a novice member of the club. He would leave such risks to the gymnastic skills of a seasoned veteran. Nevertheless, he did at least slip his hand back under the woman's skirt, just as the train was pulling into the midway stop at Imperial (transfer point to the Green Line, if they had been getting off).

And, he was greeted by the feel of a very wet pussy indeed. It was so warm, even hot, and so squishy soft. He slid his finger up and down her wet saucy slippery slit, teasing her a bit more, making her want it even more.

As the train lurched to a stop his finger inadvertently slipped up her hole. It was a bit sooner than he had intended, but hardly a regrettable outcome, for either of them.

It was a bit awkward, being perched on the man's finger as passengers got off and on the train. Fortunately, the man to her left was remaining on board, thereby continuing to keep their primary risk for detection well covered. He was clearly experienced at serving the role of blocker, as he continually got bumped and pushed, oncoming passengers having to squeeze by him to find an open spot on the train. A normal, inexperienced, and considerate passenger would have moved back, farther back into the train, to provide room for those now getting on board. But, he just held his ground, pretending to be oblivious to or even disinterested in the inconvenience of those having to squeeze past him.

Paul saw him. It was the elder, distinguished gentleman, getting on board. Paul recognized him instantly, and he began to slide his finger in and out of the lady's tight, clinging hole as the man took his position right behind her.

The gentleman did not say anything. He only gave Paul a half smile of knowing recognition, pleased to see that Paul had indeed joined their little sport, their club, and was apparently well immersed within his first official encounter. He glanced around the rest of the train and quickly identified through the thick crowd of passengers two more engagements beyond Paul and the lady. He had a pretty good eye for detecting the couplings.

Three trysts on a train was a pretty good club meeting. The record was six, and perhaps that was actually pushing their luck. A part of him did hope that someday, if the club got big enough, they could actually control the car entirely. Wouldn't that be something? Every passenger a member of the club! They could turn that ride into a relatively open, raucous orgy. Alternatively, he imagined there being just one innocent, unwitting passenger, shocked and dumfounded as all of the other passengers began to openly fondle, finger, and even fuck one another. He didn't think any chapter of the club in any part of the world had ever succeeded in having an open orgy on a train. Their chapter would become quite well regarded, even famous. The stuff of subway legend. Of course, with fame would come some cost and further risk. Their chapter might become so flooded with new members that they would have to shut down before the society became literally exposed.

No, discretion was a key to their success, and it was best to keep membership activities down to a manageable level. A number of times he had in fact intervened on an encounter, quashing the act in the process as it appeared to be going too far, or at least was not sufficiently well hidden. Occasional exposure was acceptable, but it was his responsibility to ensure the survival, the health, the future of the club, and, regrettably, that would at times require some dousing of enthusiasm.

It was partly for this reason that he squeezed up against the behind of the woman whom Paul was fingering. He wanted to be sure that this fledgling member had sufficient support and protection to enjoy successfully his first ride. Any good father would be there when his son takes his first bike, or train, ride.

And, besides, it can also be rather fun to join in. As the train pulled away, he grasped a vertical bar with his left hand, and slipped his right hand underneath the woman's skirt.

She gasped when she felt another hand sliding under her skirt from behind. She was certainly getting the royale treatment on this ride! She considered looking back to see who this second hand belonged to, but there was something about not in fact actually knowing who it was that made it even more erotic. It was more truly a stranger on a train.

The elderly gentleman first just fondled the young lady's little round rump. He always found this such a delight. Lady's bottoms were so delectable to the touch: so round, so sweet, so innocent, so cherubic.

Paul was delighted to have the gentleman join. It relieved him of any remaining tension over getting caught. The gentleman must be the most skilled member of the club. Paul could now more fully enjoy the ride and the delectable treat that was perched on his finger. He in fact squeezed another finger up into the girl's cunt. This was not so easy as the first, but it did offer him, and her, considerably more pleasure. Plus, he brought his thumb into the action, applying it to her clitoris as his fingers plunged and squirmed in her cunt.

The woman's breasts were rising and falling with her heavy breathing, her legs were beginning to feel wobbly. She spread her legs out a bit farther, not only to better brace herself and to help keep her panties from falling down, but to also give the men easier access.

She wanted so much to return the thrusts of the man's fingers in her pussy with her hips, to fuck his fingers as she was being fucked by him. But, she was limited to remaining largely still, as the two fingers wiggled, squirmed, and screwed within her cunt, the thumb grinding and working her clit.

And then she felt a finger of the man behind her sliding down the crack of her bottom, all the way down, down to her anus! He was at first just cupping, fondling and patting her bottom. Rather innocently playful, and a titillating complement to the more aggressive frontal fingering she had been receiving. But, that was apparently over. Her eyes opened wider, she looked up in concern into the eyes of the man in front, perhaps hoping for some consideration, some help, but finding that his eyes only looked back in indifference if not pleasure at her apprehension. And, then, she felt the finger at her anus, her asshole, at first just caressing her, tickling her there. That wasn't so bad. In fact, it was really quite nice.

She had never had a boyfriend touch her there before. Frankly, she even found it rather embarrassing when they would take her from behind, realizing that they could actually see her butt hole. She liked to pose for them, posing her breasts, teasing them with brief glimpses of her pussy, and even posing her bottom. But, she never thought of giving boys teasing peeks of her asshole. Yet, now, she wondered, perhaps that had been a mistake? She kind of liked the finger there, never before realizing how many tantalizing, titillating little nerve endings she had there. Her apprehension turned to girlish delight, and she smiled at the man in front of her, just as that finger suddenly plunged up inside her, up into her rectum, into her butt, like a thick snake squeezing into a tight, narrow rabbit hole. Her smile turned to shock and she lurched forward on the train, as everyone else lurched in the other direction with a sudden shift of the train's coupling.

Paul did not know what caused her to suddenly thrust forward, but he could guess. He wished she would return her hand to his cock. It did desire, need, some attention. If not for being on the train he would certainly be quite willing and able to take care of it himself, but he did need his free hand to continue to maintain his balance as he used the other to work her slippery sluice.

The woman, though, was understandably absorbed by, and within, her own excitement, her own lust. The finger up her butt was at first a shocking impalement, but it quickly became quite provocatively pleasing, being fingered in two holes by two men at the same time. Group sex was another thing she had never done before, but might now reconsider. It's really quite amazing what one can learn during a ride to work; it doesn't have to be dead time, a time to waste and kill. It can in fact be very educational, as well as so very highly stimulating.

Two fingers also proved to be quite helpful in steadying her. A person could easily topple being skewered on just one post; any structure needs at least two foundation spikes. Plus, now she did not have to brace herself against the intrusions, the thrusting of one of the fingers, as they largely worked to complement and counteract one another. Although, the presence of one finger in front and one in back did at times have the effect of first pushing her one way, and then pushing her back the other, like she was a toy that two boys were struggling to play with at the same time: one pushing it one way, the other pushing it the other. Nevertheless, the jostling perhaps did not really appear that much different than would normally occur on a bumpy, jerky train ride. And, besides, it can be really quite satisfying and pleasing to be the favorite toy of two boys, or in this case two men. In fact, the best was when they both pushed at the same time, as each would then drive in the farthest, being braced by the other.

Most importantly, the fingers did feel awfully good in her. Being so obscenely fingered on the train was so much better than listening on headphones to Morning Edition of NPR, which she would otherwise be doing if not for the club. Morning Edition was certainly very good, but it was hard to compare to fingers working their way in and out of her pussy and butt.

She gripped hold again of Paul's stiff dick, like it was an additional post with which to brace herself. Two posts are better than one, but three are really necessary for a firm foundation. "Please, please, please," she softly gasped, squeezing the soft, swollen round plum.

Paul responded by working even harder on her cunt with his fingers, her clit with her thumb. He might not be able to cum himself, but he did want to have at least one happy ending to this ride.

She felt herself getting closer and closer to her climax and she gripped down hard on both fingers with the muscles of her cunt and the sphincter of her anus, squeezing hard on the fingers to maximize their stimulation, her tension, and then the wave of her orgasm engulfed her. She shuddered and shivered on the fingers as her climax rippled and rolled spasmodically through her body.

The men's fingers were very useful then, helping to keep her propped up, as her legs buckled, her arms felt weak, her head felt faint, and she gasped and moaned with the lustful gratification, her panties soiled and stained by the juices spilling down her thighs.

If anyone saw her now it would be very readily apparent that something was terribly wrong, or terribly right. Her body was trembling, shivering, twitching. It was either an odd myoclonus seizure, or an orgasm. Which would be the more likely, or least unlikely, event to see on a commuter train?

When it had passed she looked up to the man with relief and gratification in her eyes. Paul just smiled in return and pulled his fingers from her cunt. The man behind her did as well, extracting his from her even tighter butt hole.

She looked away with embarrassment as Paul let go of the steel bar with his right hand to extract a handkerchief from his pocket in order to clean off the slick mess on his fingers, smiling down at her all the while. She considered trying to get her panties back up before the train arrived at Anaheim, her stop and the cessation of the club's meeting for that day. She was still well hidden by the three men, and perhaps one of them might now even help her. But, there was something quite nice about keeping them where they were, a nice reminder of what a pleasant and satisfying ride that had been. Sometimes commuting to work really isn't so bad after all. She left the train with a big grin on her face, her panties at her thighs.