Strangers on a Train

Readers, this story is nothing more that masturbatory nourishment. There is little in the way of plot and it certainly has no literary merit. It is a fancy that came to me out of the blue. Be warned that the content is graphic and an element of nonconsensual sex pervades the story.

The eight oh five thundered into Musgrove underground station swirling up a cloud of detritus, old newspapers, candy wrappers and cigarette butts that had been strewn on the tracks. Those standing perilously close to the edge of the platform were prepared to put up with the noise and the unpleasantness because the 8:05 was always crowded and commuters were often left stranded on platform as passengers fought to disembark against a sea of other passengers scrambling to get on the train; it was like a strong wind pushing against a rushing tide.

Molly DuPont hated the morning rush. There would be no chance of getting a seat; even the old and frail were ignored by those who clung to their cheap plastic seats as if they were treasures. The guard would let the carriages fill to overflowing, the passengers pressed against each other like cows in a cattle wagon; the commuters grateful that they even got on the train and didn't have to wait for the next which would be just as crowded until the rush hour passed.

The doors opened and Molly was propelled forward by those behind her, pushing, shoving; clamouring to get on the train. She caught a heel in the doorway but managed to keep her shoe on as she was propelled forward against a man in a business suit trying to read his morning paper. He glared at her and then went back to his paper which he had to hold inches from his nose because the car was so packed.

Molly was pushed into the middle of the carriage; the people tightly compacted around her. She gripped her handbag tightly against her body and searched for a handrail as the train began move forward. Her red polished fingers scrambled for one of the pivoted grab handles that hung from the ceiling but someone beat her to it. She squeezed her fingers into the handle anyway to steady herself as the train jerked forward and began to gather momentum. Not that it mattered really, she couldn't fall over because there were too many other passengers jammed around her for her to move. It was then that she noticed that by chance she was surrounded by a sea of men: shift workers, professionals, labourers, students. There wasn't a woman within fifty feet of her but she didn't care; there was often a gender imbalance on the subway this time of day.

Molly sighed and silently prayed that when the train stopped at the next five stations on this route the crowd would slowly diminish as the city workers, college kids and tourists disembarked into the city to go about their day.

Molly worked as a secretary at Dewey Cheatem, a medium sized law firm whose office was inconveniently located on the other side of the city but she liked her job. She liked the formality of the office, the officiousness of the lawyers and law clerks, the punctuality and routine and overt politeness. She liked that the gentlemen wore suits and ties, the female lawyers wore skirted power suits, the secretaries were also required to wear skirt suits. Women did not wear pant-suits at Dewey Cheatem. It was an old established firm with archaic traditions.

Molly was twenty three years old, pretty but a little chubby. Not fat! She would be fired for being fat, but not for being pleasantly rounded. She had good legs which she considered her best feature and wore her skirts a little shorter than the convention to show them off. Her breasts were plump and her figure was buxom, she had a big bottom, wide hips and a cinched waist; very much the hour glass.

Molly spent quite a portion of her wages on her work clothes. She had five skirt-suits for work, three pairs of black pumps to go with the suits and five satin blouses of varying colours. Her undergarments were quite racy under that bland exterior: full-cut satin panties with lace trim to cover her ample bottom, matching brassieres, sheer flesh-toned control-top pantyhose and in winter a satin and lace camisole. Her makeup was perfect, she liked smoky eyes and red lipstick. If she was a lawyer she couldn't get away with it but the office staff were allowed a few little liberties. Her flaming red hair was perfectly coiffed.

The train settled into its usual rhythm and the passengers tried their best to ignore that fact they were continually rubbing and bumping up against each other. Those that could pressed newspapers, magazines or paperbacks against their noses so that they didn't have to talk to anyone. Those that couldn't averted their eyes, reading the overhead adverting hoardings or staring at their feet. Molly was a foot watcher; she stared down at the dirty floor and counted down the minutes until the train got to her station.

Then there were the smells to deal with. Professional women like her wearing perfume, business professionals wearing aftershave, some of the labourers wore the same clothes for a few days in a row and exuded body odour, some reeked of greasy fast food smells and the very inconsiderate smelled of garlic or spices.

The train ride was twenty minutes of torture to be endured twice a day but it was worth it. The only thing that could possibly make things worse was a breakdown.

The train stopped suddenly and the lights went out. Curses and expletives were quietly hissed by some. After the cacophony of the steel wheels on the tracks and squeaking and groaning of the carriage the silence was deafening. Molly began to count down from one hundred and placed bets with herself that when she hit the numbers for today's date the train would start again. It was a game she had learned to play with herself on a few occasions in the past but she never got down to zero. Her numbers were 05-31-85, today's date, and she was soon passed 85 but was confident she would win with 31 and was dismayed when she didn't but surely it wouldn't get to five.

"Shithouse mouse!" she hissed quietly when she hit zero.

Molly seldom swore but the train had never stopped for that long before. She also noticed something else. When the train had stopped briefly in the past, usually for some unannounced delay ahead of them, the power stayed on but this time there was no power at all in the carriage and even more unsettling, there were no lights in the underground tunnel. Molly guessed rightly that there was a total blackout.

Some of the passengers began to murmur amongst themselves trying to guess the cause of the delay but Molly just breathed shallowly and waited patiently.

Then she felt it on her leg. A spider? A cockroach? Something flittering and scampering lightly on her thigh. She shuddered and tried to brush it away but it was gone. She breathed out and sighed but then she felt it again.

This time when she tried to brush the intruder off her thigh she realised that it was someone's fingertips. The carriage was pitch black so she had no idea who it was. It wasn't deliberate was it? Someone in the crowded carriage had accidentally brushed his or her hand on her leg that's all.

She felt it again and this time when she tried to brush the fingers off her thigh they refused to move. The fingers stayed there caressing her leg. She thought that she could hear the soft rustling of her pantyhose as the fingers stroked her nyloned thigh.

"Stop it!" she hissed into the dark.

He didn't.

Molly put her fingers around the hand gripping her thigh but she couldn't budge it. It was a man alright she could feel the hairs on the back of his hand.

"Stop it!" she whispered again.

She heard a faint chuckle and the hand began to slide up her leg.

Molly began to wriggle as she tried to dislodge the hand that was crawling under her skirt despite her attempts to stop it.

"Stop moving! Keep still! It's bad enough we're crammed here in the dark without you jerking around," someone hissed angrily.

What was she to say? 'Sorry, I have a strange hand under my skirt'. That sounded pathetic even to her.

But now the other hand had joined the fray. She felt a second hand stroking her left thigh, this one was also creeping under her skirt. Molly clawed at the hands that were inexorably crawling up her thighs. She tried to bat the hands away but she was so tightly packed against the other passengers that she didn't have any room to swing.

Things got worse. She could feel a malevolent presence behind her, pushing into her, and she realised that the hands belonged to the man directly behind her. Molly could feel his body wedged against her and there was nothing she could do. She tried valiantly to push the hands back down her thighs as they approached the top of her legs.

She began to whimper.

"Oh for fuck sake don't start crying you silly bitch! We're all in the same boat. The train will start up again soon, just be patient!" someone growled angrily nearby in the dark.

"Silly woman," someone else griped.

"Stop behaving like a frightened school girl. That's why men think women are weak," a woman rejoined the protests.

There was general grumbling and murmuring throughout the carriage because no wanted an hysterical woman making things more unpleasant then they were.

"You don't understand!" Molly cried out.

"Yes we're all late for work, we're all pissed off, we're all annoyed with being crushed and crowded down here in the dark so just shut it!" someone nearby yelled.

Molly choked back a sob. The man had reached the top of her thigh.

She gasped when one of his hands moved across the front panel of her satin panties. Molly was the kind of girl who liked the aesthetic of wearing her panties over her pantyhose; it just looked better and it felt better too. She heard the man growl softly as his fingers explored her panties, he seemed to be pressing his crotch harder against her and then she froze when she realised that he was pressing his erection into buttocks.

"No," she whispered.

"Yes," the man behind her whispered in her ear.

She could feel his breath on her neck; his breath was sweet from toothpaste and mouthwash, his aftershave smelled exotic and expensive.

The man pressed his fingers into the V of her panties and began to rub and as he did so he circled the bulge in his trousers on her plump ass. Molly clamped her thighs closed, not allowing the man's fingers anywhere near her pubis but the man was relentless. He pushed and prodded and poked and managed to get a single finger in the little gap between her plump thighs. He traced the seam in the gusset of her panties and Molly shivered.

Despite the low cacophony of the angry crowd Molly was sure she could hear the scraping grate of the man unzipping his fly.

"Stop it!" Molly hissed and tried to move away.

"If you don't keep still young lady I'm going to make you! You just spiked my ankle with your heel!" a man nearby growled.

"I'm sorry," Molly whimpered and realised how pathetic she was apologising for moving while she was being groped by a stranger.

Why didn't she just yell it out! Because she felt so helpless and pathetic and the man's finger was rubbing the silky satin of her panty gusset against her diaphanous pantyhose crotch which was pressing into her vulva and it was causing a pleasant sensation that Molly had not felt for a long time.

That didn't excuse what the man was doing and she refused become complicit. She kept her legs slammed shut.

The man was doing what he could with one finger; tracing her fleshy vulva through her panties and pantyhose, trying to push past her outer lips but the fabric prevented him from doing so.

"Ok. Be that way," the man whispered in her ear.

She felt a whisper of cool air on the back of her thighs as she felt the man lifted the back of her skirt and then she froze once more when she felt the warm hard flesh of the man's cock on her leg.

He kept his finger between her legs stroking her vulva through her silky undies and put the other on her shoulder and held her still as he pushed his cock between her corpulent thighs and began to fuck her legs. He took his hand from between her legs and put it around her waist to hold her close while he rutted her nylon-sheathed legs. His cock pushed upwards, the glans pressing on her vulva through her panties and succeeding in reaching the place where his finger hadn't because the girl had opened her legs a little.

Molly didn't know if it was reflex, a need to keep her balance or simply a mistake but she took a half-step sideways and the man behind her took full advantage. She could feel his breathing become laboured as he pressed his cock on her cunt though her panties and pantyhose. His grip tightened as he thrust upward and his cock slipped inside her panties rubbing on her vulva through her control-top pantyhose. Her vulva opened like a flower exposing her labia which were damp with vaginal juices.

Molly curse inwardly. Her body was betraying her as this man's cock rubbed on her moist cunny through her pantyhose; at least the pantyhose prevented him from penetrating her.

The man was enjoying feeling the woman's shapely body pressed against him. He inhaled her perfume and enjoyed the sensation of her fleshy mound on his hard cock, her satin panties and the nylon gusset of her pantyhose created a warm moist cave of delicious delight. He'd like to rip open her pantyhose and fuck her but that might be pushing his luck.

He thrust against her, relishing the feel of her ass against his body and her slippery twat on his throbbing cock.

Molly could feel that the man's cock had forced open her labia and was pressing on her clitoris as he thrust against her. It was what she called dry-humping when she was a teenager but it wasn't really because she was wet.

"Hey you're crowding me here," the man in front her said angrily.

"What the fuck are you doing there anyway?" the man whispered.

Because the passengers were pressed together and the guy behind Molly was fucking her legs vigorously, she was bouncing rhythmically against back of the man in front of her.

Molly opened her mouth to answer but the stranger fucking her legs interrupted her. He whispered quietly over Molly's shoulder.

"Man, I'm dry-fucking this bitch, you wanna go next," he whispered next to Molly's ear but the man in front of her heard it ok.

There was a lot of grumbling as that man turned around to face Molly, disturbing the other passengers close to them, crowded like sheep in a pen.

Before Molly could say a word to complain she felt the man behind her grind himself hard into her ass and unload his wad. She felt his cock quiver and then felt the warm wetness of his spunk soaking into her panties and pantyhose. There was so much of it that some it ran down her leg and soaked into her stocking. She could feel the head of the man's cock pressing on her vulva, grinding against her clitoris, spurting his warm creamy issue into her sex and she bit her lip as a little as a mini orgasm rippled through her sex.

The man was ecstatic, his penis sliding along Molly's slit caressed by her satin panties on one side and her slippery pantyhose on the other.

The musky scent of semen filled the air and the man who was standing in front of Molly instantly became erect. The other guy wasn't lying. He couldn't see anything in the dark and the other guy might have been ribbing him but that smell was unmistakeable and when he slipped his hand under Molly's skirt and felt the spunk dribbling down her thigh and the sodden crotch of her underwear he knew that the man hadn't lied.

Now it was his turn.

He could feel Molly's buxom chest pressed against him and he squeezed a tit and pressed his mouth against hers. She flinched but she couldn't move. The man who had just splooged in her panties was still pressed against her back, putting away his cock after wiping it on her skirt.

For an instant Molly thought the ordeal was over but now another man was pawing at her, trying to kiss her. This was even worse!

The man pushed his tongue into Molly's mouth. He tasted like coffee and cigarettes and she tried to keep her mouth closed but the man was insistent. She felt him squeeze her tit as he kissed her. Trying to step away was futile because the man who had just defiled her was still there behind her and wouldn't move.

Molly tried to complain but the man's lips crushed hers and his tongue wriggled in her mouth. She felt him unbuttoning her blouse and she stiffened. No! She didn't want to be undressed in car; what if the lights suddenly came on?

She realised how silly this thought was. She was being raped in a crowded railway carriage and she was worried about her reputation when she should be screaming 'rape' at the top of her lungs but had she been complicit? Was it to some extent her own fault what was happening to her?

She had no time to contemplate those thoughts because her new abuser had opened her blouse and freed her breasts. He lowered his mouth to them and suckled the teats and Molly sobbed quietly as her nipples hardened as the man expertly used his lips, his tongue and his teeth on them. Little sparklets of pleasure radiated from her nipples and then she felt the man's hand under her skirt, pawing at her thighs.

The man could feel where his predecessor had planted his seed, the woman's panty crotch was wet and warm with semen. He pushed a finger into her crotch and rubbed at the woman's pubis and heard her draw in a breath that could only be desire. The man sucked harder on her nipple and took the woman's hand and guided it to his cock which hung out of his flies.

The woman's fingers brushed against his turgid flesh but she refused to take it in her hand. The man took Molly's pubis in his hand and squeezed hard and the woman whimpered.

"Stroke it or I'll squeeze your cunt until you scream," the man hissed into her ear.

The woman complied and took the stranger's cock in her fingers and feebly caressed it. The stranger stopped squeezing her vulva and went back to softly stroking her crevice through her panties. God help her it felt good!

The man standing beside the man who had recently defiled Molly became aware of what was happening. Even though he couldn't see anything in the pitch black he heard the rustling of clothing, the sighs and groans of sexual congress the unmistakeable smell of semen and cunt.

"What's going on," he whispered.

"I just dry humped the office bitch now someone else is taking a turn. You wanna swap places and have a go?" the man replied.

The two men traded places to the annoyance of those around them who were still oblivious as to what was happening. A woman was being defiled only inches away from them and they were clueless. They were just annoyed that their travelling companions wouldn't stay still.

The man kissed Molly harder while she stroked his cock almost disinterestedly only because she had to. The man was squeezing her ass and his other hand was stroking her pubis through her panties and she couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of his fingers on her sex, pushing her satin panties and silky pantyhose against her plump labia and engorged clitoris.

The man became emboldened and snagged the crotch of her pantyhose and tore a hole big enough to slip a finger through. He made the hole a little bigger and pushed two fingers into her warm moist quim and Molly shuddered with shame and humiliation but the man was not perturbed. He squeezed her ass a little harder and thrust his fingers in out of her tight twat.

The smell of cunt pervaded the area around them and the man standing behind Molly who had just traded places with the other stranger opened his flies, lifted her skirt, and rubbed his cock on the back of her panties. He reached around her and took her tits in his hands and began to grind his cock on her panty-clad ass.