The Stranger

It feels strange to admit this now, but when I first felt the stranger's hand on my ass, I didn't even care. We were packed onto a rush-hour train along with what felt like everybody in the city. My body was being squashed up against the grubby metal doors, my face almost touching the little window as the gloomy November morning rushed by. I'd barely slept all weekend because I'd been finishing a presentation that my boss was going to take all of the credit for. I just didn't have the energy left over to deal with some guy who may or may not have been a creep.

After about ten seconds of plausibly deniable touching, he got a little bolder. Yes, we were packed in like sardines, and yes, the train was jostling us around occasionally, but that didn't explain the fact that he was now gently, but unmistakably, cupping my ass. I reached back to swat his hand away but it didn't budge. "Great," I thought. "There goes the last chance that this is a misunderstanding."

I tried to figure out what to do. I thought about screaming at the top of my lungs, publicly exposing him for the creep that he was, but to be honest I didn't have the guts. Everything that's wrong with the world can be summed up by the fact that I was afraid to embarrass the guy who was molesting me. Still, I'd always assumed I'd be more of a badass when push came to shove. We were wedged together so tightly that I couldn't even turn my body away from him, so I settled for craning my neck awkwardly and giving him the most intimidating over-the-shoulder glare I could manage. He continued to squeeze my ass as we made eye contact.

I'm not sure what kind of man I expected to be sexually assaulting me during my commute, but this guy definitely wasn't it. For starters he was good-looking, in a clean-shaven, Ivy League kind of way. Younger than me, but clearly doing well for himself. His suit, which must have cost at least a thousand dollars, was tailored precisely enough to hint at the lean, muscular body underneath. His thick, brown hair was just the right amount of wavy to make me wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers through it. If he'd asked for my number before randomly feeling me up, I'd probably have given it to him.

But way beyond any of that, the most unexpected thing about him was the look of utter terror on his face. He looked as if he was trapped in the middle of a nightmare. His breathing was ragged, his skin was pale, his eyes were practically bulging out of his head.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

He scanned the carriage to make sure we weren't attracting the attention of the other passengers but he needn't have worried; our bodies were too close together for anyone to see what was happening.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" I hissed under my breath.

I'd instinctively mirrored him by lowering my voice and was once again disappointed that I wasn't as tough as I'd hoped I'd be in a situation like this. In my defence, I still had no idea what this situation was. He seemed to be as freaked out as I was, which wasn't exactly standard protocol for this kind of thing.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, even as his hand continued its eye-wateringly thorough inventory of my ass. "I can't...I can't control it."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" I whispered back. "Just get your hand off me!"

"I'm trying!" he replied.

The weird thing was, he really did seem like he was. His hand had begun to work its way under my skirt, but it was as if it had a life of its own. He genuinely appeared to be trying to stop it. Little beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead as he wrestled with himself. I reached back again and tried to help, but he was much too strong. Stronger than I'd have believed was possible just by looking at him.

"Please just...I'm really sorry," he said again.

His eyes were wide with...I'm not even sure what it was. Terror? Confusion? Excitement? His fingers reached my pussy and immediately began stroking my clit through my underwear. I pushed at his arm as hard as I could, squeezing my thighs together to restrict his access, but his strength and the constant movement of the train made it impossible to stop him. He'd had to bend down to reach between my legs, bringing his face uncomfortably close to mine. I turned my head back towards the window as the warm scent of his aftershave filled my nostrils.

"Look, I'm not a pervert or anything," he continued. "I just...something comes over me sometimes and I can't...my mind just goes blank and..." He trailed off.

"Your mind doesn't seem very fucking blank right now asshole!" My anger finally caught up to the fact that a stranger's unwelcome fingers were working their way into my panties. The cheeks burned with shame and anger as I realised that I was getting wet. The fact that my body was responding to him made the whole thing even worse.

I lowered my head as my eyes began to fill with tears. I kept my voice down but I couldn't stop it from trembling. "If you don't move your hand right now, I am going to fucking scream."

"No please. You can't!" his breath on my ear sent a shiver down my spine. "Look, I just need you to cum. Ok? Just cum and then I'll be able to stop."

"Fuck you!" I hissed. I was still pushing his hand away but it was hopeless. I couldn't even break his rhythm as he continued to work my clit, slipping his fingers inside me whenever he needed to draw out more of my wetness. The tears were rolling down my face, but my traitorous body was responding more and more urgently to his touch. It wasn't going to be long.

"Please, just stop this." My voice sounded so tiny that I wasn't sure if he would hear. I couldn't even tell if I was speaking to him or to myself. My stomach muscles began to spasm and a fresh wave of shame and self-loathing crashed over me as my hips began to buck involuntary against his hand.

"I will," he whispered. His voice was different now; deeper, calmer, more controlled. It was as if he were trying to soothe a frightened animal. "I will. Just let me do this. Just let yourself do it."

I gave up on trying to push him away. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, silently pleading with my body to resist. "Just shut down," I begged. "Breathe. Just breathe, DON'T CUM, PLEASE. NO...DON'T...DON'T YOU FUCKING...DARE..."

The train juddered suddenly and the brakes let out a long screech, and for some reason, that was what pushed me over the edge. A soft, wounded moan escaped my lips as my body shuddered against him uncontrollably, and a thousand warm butterflies fluttered through my nervous system. My knees buckled, but because I was trapped between the stranger and the doors, I couldn't even fall. I leaned my head against the window and tried to stop my legs from shaking. With the movement of the train and the noise of the brakes, nobody else seemed to have noticed what happened.

It was probably only a few seconds later that the train pulled into the next station but I couldn't say for sure. He slipped his hand out from between my legs and straightened himself up before him moving away. I could head him working his way through the crowd towards the open doors on the opposite side of the train but even after I heard them close again I couldn't bring myself to look to make sure he was gone. I just stood there with my head resting against the glass, my pussy still exposed from where he'd pulled my panties aside, my wetness cooling on my thighs. "Just breathe," I told myself. "Just keep breathing." So I did. And as the train pulled away, the world continued to rush by as if nothing had happened.