The Pervert on the Train

I hate the train.

I always take the train when coming from class.

Pa insists that it's cheaper than an Uber and that it's always reliable. He says that unlike the bus which is usually late due to traffic the train is always on time. I agree but I hate it anyway. He's never around to pick me up so I'm stuck having to catch the train with my measly pocket money.

Whenever I leave college with my classmates they would peel off to find taxis while I headed for the station to catch the train. I hated it. I hated the crowds, I hated the smell, I hated the noise. Sometimes during rush hour the train would become so crowded that I would be forced to stand throughout the trip.

Throngs of people would jostle into one another as we tried vainly to support ourselves using the railings that hang overhead. I suppose I shouldn't mind the chaos because it is part and parcel of life in a third-world country but frankly, I still hate it anyway.

It was a few minutes to 5 when I walked out into the warm New Delhi air after a long day at school. I was clad in a long dark saree, a pair of sandals and I had a scarf draped over my shoulder to cover my exposed back. My satchel was slung over my other shoulder.

Since it was rush-hour there was a large crowd of commuters already on the platform. I bought a ticket, squeezed in between several commuters and boarded the train. It was packed to the brim.

Keep in mind that this is India we're talking about. This is a country that is home to more than 1 billion people. New Delhi alone houses 18 million people and the train I was on was one of 320 trains that carry a total of 2.5 million people throughout the city daily. Some of these trains were known to have people dangling off the sides while many others could be found seated on the roof. That's how crowded they could get.

As soon as I got in I looked out into the carriage and there were people standing as far as my eye could see. The air was thick and it was filled with sweat, cheap deodorant, strong perfume and the distinct scent of stale cigarette smoke. All the seats were occupied and everyone else had to contend with standing up, myself included. I couldn't find any space among the throng so I planted myself right next to one of the doors. I could get some respite watching the countryside during the trip and I could just as well avoid becoming trapped in a crush when I alighted. 

The train set off not long after and off we headed towards the suburbs. I clutched tightly at the railing with my free hand as we lurched forward and drew my satchel closer to my chest with my free hand.

Then I felt it.

An almost imperceptible touch on my exposed back.

I figured whoever was behind me was trying to steady themselves so I ignored it. I felt it again. This time, a hand pushing against the small of my back. I turned around to find the culprit but all I could see were unconcerned figures swaying back and forth.

I focused back ahead and fixed my gaze through the window upon the trees that were whizzing by in a blur. The train was now picking up speed. As I observed the view outside I suddenly felt a hand distinctly cup my backside. I whirled around ready to raise the alarm and found myself staring right into a huge chest.

I slowly looked up to see a bearded heavy-set man gazing down at me. He looked to be in his mid-40s and could have passed for one of my Dad's friends. He had a large tuft of dark hair, his olive skin glistened with oil and sweat and his stubble was a few days old. His large lips remained firmly set in a bemused frown and he looked down at me with an impassive gaze. He couldn't have been more creepy if he tried.

I was terrified.

Let me point out that I am a fairly small Indian woman. I'm 5 foot 4 and I weigh 110 pounds on a good day so I'm as petite as it gets. This man was several inches taller and about 200 pounds. His large rounded shoulders completely obscured the light behind him and his ample belly stuck out under his blue dress shirt. Needless to say, he was huge.

I turned back around, obviously flustered. 'Now what?' I thought. I had a pervert fondling me in the middle of a crowded train and he was the size of a house. If I raised the alarm I wasn't sure whether anyone would be bothered to help. I probably wasn't the first woman to be assaulted on a train and anyway, if the man was brazen enough to fondle me he was likely capable of worse. We had just left the station so we were still far from home. The train wasn't going to stop to kick someone out so what could I do?

My mind started racing. I felt the man pinch my rear lightly. I almost jumped. The audacity! Wait, did I just hear him chuckle? I felt myself getting angrier by the second and I grasped the railing for support and focused straight ahead. Hopefully I could bear this for a little while longer then it would be over.

As the train made a long turn I found myself leaning backward due to the momentum. The man's frame enveloped me and a hairy arm grabbed me by the waist, steadying me. Then the train straightened back out and the man pull me closer to him. Now I could feel his crotch nestling up my backside. 'Oh God, no!' I thought. The back of my head was now bumping his chest slightly and it was about as physically close as I've ever been to anyone. I could now distinctly smell his breath wafting over me. Sweat, tobacco, onions. I winced and wrinkled my nose in disgust.

I looked around and everyone seemed preoccupied. The people around me seemed to be minding their own business, some of them fixated on their phones while others gazed outside absent-mindedly. Others were chattering away with their friends. I was trapped between the doors and the man and my only hope of anyone spotting me would be if someone focused on the people on the periphery on the carriage i.e The man and myself. Judging by how packed the carriage was, that seemed highly unlikely. I was on my own.

The man was now holding me steadily by the waist while his other hand was firmly planted on my ass. He didn't seem concerned by the train's movements now that he had his prey firmly in his grasp. His hand slowly traveled up and cupped my breast. I was livid but I said nothing. I stared fixedly ahead.

I felt a finger gently tugging on the lower back of my saree and this was too much. I tried to pull away. The hairy hand pulled me back and kept me in position, right in front of him. I could barely move even if I wanted to. The spaces between myself and other commuters so small at this point that we were all shoulder to shoulder at this point. Barely enough room to breathe let alone move around.

I felt a small draft of air flow onto my lower back as the ream of my saree was pulled downwards from the back. I felt the man's large hand slip into the saree and slowly drag downwards the entirety of my backside before slipping a finger right past my panties.

I'd had enough.

I reached back and tried to push the hairy arm away and I felt the thick hand leave my breast and grip my wrist instead, gently pinning my arm behind my back. He pushed me against the door. My diminutive frame was now stuck between the train door and this hulk of a man and I couldn't move at all. The only escape was when the doors opened and I was half an hour away from the next stop-My stop.

The hand resumed its adventure. I felt the hairy intruder tunnel down my crack and twist upwards before swiftly planted itself on my naked ass. My saree had been pried apart and the man's open palm rested right against my bare ass. Now I was too nervous to even glance around. I was mortified at the thought of being seen in such a state.

I found myself grimacing as the man's finger ever so slowly began to part my cheeks and I clenched my jaw not only out of fear but also, much to my surprise, arousal. I clamped my legs shut as I felt myself getting wetter by the second. Why was I getting aroused? This man was sexually assaulting me in a crowded train and all I could feel was my vulva dripping down below.

'What was wrong with me?', I wondered.

My mind began to race as I tried to steady myself. The curious finger traveled further down through my cheeks, searching, prodding. Deeper. I writhed around unsuccessfully trying to shake off the stubborn invader as it moved between my legs where it finally came to rest. The man's finger was now rested right upon my opening. I froze. He wouldn't, he couldn't. Not here.

My breath caught in my throat as the finger poked unsuccessfully at first. I was clenching as hard as I could. Under no circumstances would I let him into my most sacred spot. Every one of my muscles tensed up. The man was undeterred. He kept prodding again and again, pulling back occasionally to lubricate itself with my juices. I clamped harder and harder, hoping to dissuade him one last time.

Suddenly, a sharp jolt shot through me as my tight slit finally gave way to the foreign invader and the realization of what had just happened settled in-The man had broken through.

My back arched and I cupped my mouth, scrunching my eyes shut as the thick finger worked its way deeply into me. I opened my eyes slightly to cast furtive glances around but nobody seemed none the wiser. I was now squarely impaled upon the finger of a man old enough to be my father and it was happening in broad daylight.

I glanced up at the clock. It read 5.13 p.m. It had all happened in less than ten minutes.

Just as I started to wonder what to do next, the finger began to move in and out, slowly at first then a little faster. I tried to break free from the man's grip but my hand remained firmly pinned against my back. My breath picked up. A warm glow began to grow in my loins and I tried as hard as possible not to let out a moan of guilty pleasure. I felt so shameful for being aroused but I couldn't help it. I had so many conflicting emotions but all I could was sit there and take it.

My face was now mashed into the window as I got finger-fucked ruthlessly. I slowly shifted my leg sideways to steady myself and a second finger joined in. I let out a quiet shudder as my pussy was stretched even further. The two thick fingers pistoned in and out at a steady pace and my legs shook as another tidal wave of pleasure washed over me. I had never been more humiliated in my life yet I had never felt so fulfilled. This was so wrong but my body begged to differ.

The man pushed his belly into my back and I let go of the railing altogether. I was now leaning on the door in total surrender as he drilled me further and further into oblivion. I didn't care anymore. I knew this was wrong, I hadn't wanted it, I hadn't expected it, I should have been scandalised but all I could feel was the pure lust rising from deep within me.

The man let go of my wrist and reached up to hold the railing as he pummeled my love bits with his other hand. His hairy forearm brushed the side of my face and it was all I could do not to grab it. I could feel sweat dripping on my back as my saree and I realized it wasn't my own. I was getting drenched by the beads of perspiration trickling off the man's forehead. He was working himself a good sweat, his fingers invading my canal at a frenzied pace desperately milking it for more.

In, out. In, out.

If it wasn't for the droning train engine and the chatter in the crowd I'm sure someone would have heard the squelching sounds rising from underneath my saree. I could smell my scent as the fire in my loins grew and I wondered whether anyone could detect that distinct whiff of arousal.

I began to feel the tremors building up toward an inevitable crescendo. I reached back wildly with my now liberated hand, trying to grasp anything for support and my hand fell on the man's crotch. I felt a thick snake bristling underneath the man's khakis. I heard him let out a quiet gasp behind me. I guess he was just as surprised as I was as my hand wrapped around the swelling member. I didn't know what to do with it other than squeeze hard as I clutched onto the man's groin for dear life.

In, out, in, out.

I shook against the window, biting my lower lip hard and my feet almost went airborne as the man's hand rose up and down furiously mercilessly yanking at me. I had to stand on my tip toes as my ass rhythmically rose and fell in tandem with the violent movements. I desperately clutched at his crotch for support with one hand while I muffled my moans with the other.

The chatter around the train faded into the background as a quiet hum in my ears began to grow louder. My eyes rolled into the back of my head, my lips parted and the world became a blur and the hum in my ears turned into a dull roar. I stifled a moan of glorious agony and everything turned white.

I went over the edge.

My head jolted backwards and slammed into the man's chest as my cum sprayed violently onto my thighs. The fingers immediately stopped moving and held steadfast as I shook and slid all over them, bumping and grinding as I let out a barely audible set of whimpers. My knees shook, my feet slid wildly on the now slippery floor, my back stiffened and I clamped even harder over my mouth in one last futile attempt to control my jagged breaths. Tidal waves of pleasure cascaded over me and everything around me froze, leaving me in my own little world of pure unbridled ecstasy.

I was spent.

The world came back into focus. The chatter grew louder once again and I heard people engaged in animated conversation.

The twin invaders slowly pulled out of me. I stared down and saw a small clear puddle had formed at my feet. I brushed a few strands of matted hair out of my face. My breaths were now coming out in quiet rasps. I looked around once more. No one had notice. No one cared.

I had just been assaulted by a total stranger in a crowd and truth be told, I couldn't have been more satisfied. I moved my hand off the man's groin and reached up once again to grab the railing. I hastily put my saree back together as best as I could and tried to compose my disheveled self. The train's public address system announced that my stop was right ahead. I checked the clock:

5.29 p.m.

Right on time.

The train slowed to a halt and the doors opened. A gust of cold air blew into the compartment as I gingerly walked out into the cold air. I turned around to take one last look at my assailant but he was gone. I glanced around the platform but there were only a few commuters casting quizzical looks at me. The man had simply vanished. I'm not sure why but deep down I suddenly felt a slight tinge of disappointment.

As the train pulled away and I was left standing on the platform I looked down at my saree and noticed a white card sticking out of one of the folds. I pulled it out and noticed a phone number on it. Right beneath the figures were the hastily scribbled words-Call me.

I smiled as I turned to begin the short walk home. Pa was right. Maybe commuting by train wasn't so bad after all.