Truth or Fantasy 15: Rush Hour

Why? I asked myself.

Why did I make plans to be somewhere during rush hour in this crazy city? Tokyo of all places, in the middle of the hot and humid summer. Let me tell you why.

I arrived only a couple of days ago with only my carry on. My large valise had been lost in transit and for 3 days I have been limited in what I could wear. If my luggage did not show up soon, I was going to have to buy something. The first day, the capsule hotel where I was staying had limited toiletries but I found a chemist nearby and picked up a few things as I dealt with the jet-lag of the 14-hour flight. I had arranged to arrive on the weekend. This I hoped would allow me to get acclimated and get a general understanding of where I was and how to get to wherever I wanted to go. Yesterday, I had ventured out and learned what it meant to be surrounded by thousands of people whose language I don't understand and signs I am unable to read. I had seen the videos and news stories about the rush hour crush and wanted to experience once myself. So different than my home town of Bismarck, North Dakota. Business men with brief cases, girls in school girl uniforms, women in western dress as well as women in kimonos. Kids with freakish hair surrounded by costumed youth. Hustle and bustle. Go. Go. Go. My personal space was reduced to mere millimeters, so different than the broad streets and wide-open spaces I was used to. I sussed out the area including the way to the subway. I managed to buy and ticket and started to feel a little more confident about my situation.

Today, trying to remember my bearings I made my way, along with what seemed like hundreds, if not thousands of others, to the entrance to the subway. The early morning ultra-clean and well-lit streets teemed with worker bees going here and there, pushed along by the mass of humanity. Thrilling. I was glad I wore my flat shoes, as trying to keep up and keep my balance was a challenge. In my flats I am over six feet tall so I could see fairly easily over the massive crowd. It was sweltering. I have no idea about metric and so the humidex, the temperature and the humidity were not quantified but sufficed to say...hot, sticky, sweaty and it was still early in the day. My light summer dress was a wrap model with a tie on the left. The hem of the dress ended two or three inches above my knees and I hoped it was loose enough to let some air to circulate. I moved with the overwhelming crowd...quick small steps, in the oppressive climate.

Finally, I was in a throng of people on the platform. In front of where the trains arrive. We were about 8 or ten commuters deep. I did not make the first or the second train, but was prepping myself for the next. It arrived and without a will of my own, I was propelled by the crowd into the train. I felt myself going left. I don't think it mattered and even if it did, there was little I could do about it. I was jostled both gently and firmly. I think I had a briefcase hit my leg. I reached up for the strap and surveyed the scene. Masses of sardines...no, actually people, were crammed into the box that felt like an oven. No chivalry here, if you had a chance for a seat you took it. Just to my right a sumo-sized commuter had the window seat and a nicely dressed middle aged man had what was left of the seat. He had to angle himself into the aisle to stay in place and his briefcase was on the floor between them. I looked down and saw him looking at my legs. He had to. There was no other place to look. I was planted almost directly in front of him and could not move. The door hissed closed and the train started. It startled me and I fought to keep my balance. As I swayed, I had to take small step to keep my balance. I found myself straddling his leg. One of my legs between his knees and the other in the aisle. I felt people on all sides of me. I looked at him, raised my eyebrows and smiled as best I could to show how embarrassed I was. He responded by a silent nod of his head.

The ride to the next station involved some curves and lurches but, all in all, went well. I swayed with the crowd movement but held on tight. The hand on the strap held my small clutch purse my other hand searched for another strap. Finding none, it fell to my side. I held my position at the next station and as we left there, I again steadied myself but felt a hand on hip as an aide. What I nice man I thought. I smiled and him and he nodded he appreciated my acknowledgement. He did not however remove his hand. He held it there. His fingers could no doubt tell that my high-rise thong was not under the dress where his hand was. As we rode along his hand gripped and loosened on my hip, mirroring the motion of the train. Occasionally, it fell down to my thigh. I liked that and did not make any attempt to suggest he remove it. In fact, I am pretty sure that I turned my hip a bit, ensuring that I faced him and finding a little more space in the crowd for his hand. I saw him looking at me but when we made eye contact, he quickly looked away. I did not want to embarrass him so I also looked away but not without pressing my upper thigh softly into his hand. I hope the subtly encouragement would entice him to explore a little more.

I did not have to wait long as I felt his fingers extend to get a better feel. I bent my knee a little and pushed my leg into his hand. I tried to make it clear that what he was doing was ok with me. I knew he got the message, when his hand slid down my leg and his little finger made contact with bare skin below the hem. A few seconds later, more fingers followed then I felt his whole hand including his palm just above my knee. His fingers caressed the back of my knee as his thumb gently rubbed my smooth tanned skin above. I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation of skin on skin. His hands were warm and soft. His touch was exquisite and experienced. Closing the gap between his crotch and my leg, I inched my foot a little closer to the edge of the seat. He responded by moving his hand higher up my thigh. His fingers delicately traced a sinuous line from my knee to my hip. He deftly moved from the front of my leg to the back and let his fingers grope my ass. The hi-cut thong completely exposed my hip and ass as his palm cradled my cheek. He squeezed and kneaded me as he let his fingers trace the sewn edge of the leg hole and the lacy fabric running down the cleft of my ass.

The subway car was turning a wide arc and to steady myself I put one hand on his shoulder. I felt him jump at the contact, likely afraid I was indicating him to back off. Not the case. I stroked the outside of his ear with my thumb signifying that what he was doing was what I wanted. I was on fire with the public intimacy. However, I was also worried that if he explored too far, he would find out why I am a special gurl. I was already concerned that with his face almost at eye level with my sex that he would see the unusual bulge. My hi-cut thong acted like a gaff, but when my larger than normal cock gets excited, the thong cannot really contain it. I could already feel the mushroom head of my cock, seeking relief from the pressure of arousal, pressing against the leg-hole.

I need not have worried as he seemed more interested in the bare cheeks of my ass and the top of my inner thighs than the front. I let him explore and the more he explored, the more I relished his touch. It was bliss. It was lewd and obscene but deliciously erotic. He was fondling and feeling me up in public, surrounded by people who were oblivious to his sexual activity. He looked up questioningly at me and I smiled, pursed my lips and nodded my head. He could read my silent moan. It was an international symbol much easier to understand than Esperanto.

Again, I held my ground as we entered another station. He hesitated for a minute or so as the jostling, pushing and shoving of new riders and those getting off, upset the subway car. The doors closed - the crowd sighed as we began to move. His hand moved to the back of my thigh and tried to pull it toward him. I believe he was trying to reduce the distance between us even more. Was it possible I thought to myself? It was maybe only a few centimeters but it seemed to satisfy him. He fingered the back of my knee and the extending his hand under my dress cupped my ass. He seemed to be weighing it. Trying to get a mental image of the size, shape and tone of it. I clenched and tightened my ass to reassure him it was the real deal.

While he continued to touch me, I stopped my thumb tracing his ear and moved my palm to the side of his head. I cradled his head in my hand and with only a small adjustment in the tight space, I was able to move it to the back of his head. I simply held it there as if his neck was tired. After a minute or so I gently pulled his head forward until his cheek was against my hip. He initially resisted but was soon leaning intently on my leg. He was a quick learner and easily picked up the hem of my skirt up so his face was against my bare leg. The hem was folded on the top of his head, hiding his eyes from me. He clawed at the back of my legs as he rubbed himself against me. His morning stubble was stimulating me and his soft lips left a wet trail on my thigh. We stayed like that as I caressed the back of his head.

He must have been alert to what was happening and where he was since when the almost unintelligible public address system announced the next stop, he pulled back from under my dress. He looked up at me and nodded that he had to go. I arched my eyebrows and pouted with a sad smile urging him to stay. He shook his head and got ready to stand up. I pulled back in the small space that I had. I smoothed my dress and gave a little courtesy bow.

"Dommo Arigato" I whispered breathlessly.

"Hai" he quietly replied as he slightly nodded his head in response.

The train slowed, he got up and began to fight his way to the door. He looked back as he left and before I could sit down, someone had taken his seat. I had lost focus and found myself being swept along like tourist flotsam in a river of commuters. I was carried along, being jostled and turned, but felt like I was being directed. A large troupe of Elvis wannabe's seemed to have filled the car and culled me from the other riders. Their shiny black hair, their t-shirts and jeans confused me. I guess they were really rockers with rat tail combs in their pockets and chains looped on their belts. I tried to guess if they were on their way to work which seemed unlikely or just coming back from a long night out. Their unusually raucous behavior of the very young men and a few older ones indicated it was the latter. The bumping and pushing seemed normal given the constrained conditions but seemed to heading into a much more personal manner. I felt bumping of hips, touching of my bare arms, legs against my legs, something rough pressing against my ass, squeezing of my cheeks as I was being maneuvered away from the center of the car and the other riders, to being against the window. I was hemmed in on all sides as they seemed to kibbitz with each in a language I could not understand. I was not scared but rather, bewildered at what was going on.

I found myself against the window facing out. This initially seemed fine as I got to see the massive crowd of commuters on the platform straining to get in position to be pushed inside. Wow.

I was pressed tighter to the side of the train car as bodies seemed to coalesce around me. Both my arms seem immobilized by the crush. I felt a foot slip between my two feet and I was forced to step wider to gain a better sense of balance. The foot slid in a little further and I quickly felt a knee insistently force itself between my legs. The stranger's pressure was intentional and the rough denim material scraped my bare legs. While I was trying to understand what was happening, I felt someone stroking my right arm then almost simultaneously a felt a hand on my left forearm. The hand of an invisible owner began to stroke my upper arm and gently but firmly grip the inside of my elbow. I must have been still in a state of shock as I did nothing. Not true, if I did anything, I consciously submitted.

I could tell my body was still excited from the earlier episode and it wanted more because my nipples were still erect. Perhaps that is why I let myself be groped. My overt inaction encouraged more groping, more hands fondling, more lewd breathing, more touching. I felt the person with their leg between mine, press himself more into me and me into the window. I was surprised when I felt the rear hem of my dress being raised and my now naked legs exposed. By the time I fully comprehended what was happening the hem was up at my waist and the thong between my ass cheeks was uncovered. I held my position as I felt them pressing into me. I felt a pair of hands on my cheeks kneading and pinching. The slight sudden pain startled me and I clenched my ass in response.

I was being mauled as new hands began touching me all over. The hands that were on my arms reached around to grab my tits. I felt helpless. I was letting them publicly abuse me. Someone's hand at my waist pulled the sash cord and the loose knot came undone. Although I was against the glass of the window, my thin wrap dress fell partially open. The bra cup on the right side was now on display. I tried to focus on any reflections in the window to see what was happening. I could not really see anything other than the rockers seemed to have formed a human barrier between myself and the rest of the car. The hand on my tit found the opening in the dress and was now cupping my breast through my bra.

The train was beginning to slow and as we pulled into the next station, I was on display through the window to everyone on the platform. My wrap dress was partially open, my bra was visible and someone's hand was pawing at it and squeezing my nipple. When the car stopped, the strangers continued to paw at me putting a show on for the people outside. While many commuters were struggling with the dense crowd, some I could see had their smart phones out and were voyeurs recording me and the lewd scene in front of them. Did any of you see me on Instagram? I haven't but if you do, please let me know in the comments section.

By the time we left the station, the person behind me had noticed the front of my dress falling open. Whoever it was roughly pulled the top of my dress apart and pushed it partway down my arms. I remember the strong smell of Suntory whiskey as he began to slobber on the back of neck. OMG, I always find that so sensuous. I tilted my head to the side and nibbled, licked and bit the nape of my neck - marking me as his. The person who was cupping my tit had managed to get his hand inside my bra directly onto my nipple, while someone on the other side was pulling my bra strap off, peeling the lace half-cup off my breast. The person behind had now bent into me and was effectively spooning me. He drove his crotch into my rear as he pressed himself into my back. He was gripping my hips and holding me tight to his swollen cock.

All I could do now was look out the window at the dark walls and occasional light flashing by as the train sped to the next station. I was being manhandled...literally. Pushed, prodded and fondled. Somebody or somebodies pulled at my bra straps. The pulled them off my shoulders and down my arms, effectively pinning my arms to my sides. The lacy bra cups were peeled off and my tits exposed and pressed against the glass. Men were squeezing and mauling me all over. As we slowed for the next station, the train car crept along, as I was displayed topless to the men, women, boys and girls that were five and six deep on the platform. When the car finally stopped and the doors opened with a whoosh, one of my abusers began to grope my tits and pinch my nipples so everyone could see. I had always hoped for something like this but never imagined it could feel this good. I let them do whatever they wanted. I wanted everyone to see me surrender myself in public. I needed them to see me.

I still could not understand what they were saying to each but I did understand the universal language of pressure on my shoulders forcing me to my knees. I was twisted and turned so now my back was to the window. I slid down, awkwardly - not gracefully, without assistance. I was where they wanted me to be and where I wanted to be. Were they loudly chanting something, maybe it was 'cock sucking slut' or 'cum dump tranny'? I don't know since the only word I understood was bukkake.

As the subway car zipped along the rocking motion did not seem to present any difficulty to the men who were unzipping their jeans and pulling out their cocks. I was on my knees, face to face with four or five cocks. I don't remember much except most were hard or getting hard. Most were hairy. Most were smooth not all veiny. They pushed their exposed cocks into my face. With my head against the wall I was held motionless as they rubbed their smelly slippery pre-cum over my face. I reached up to brace myself but all I ended up being able to reach was cock. To keep my balance, I had to grab a cock in each hand. As soon as I did, I felt them thrust their naked cocks through my fingers which were getting slick with their juice. Someone grabbed my hair and held me tight as a cock was pressed against my lips. The stranger sawed back and forth spreading my red lipstick over my face. Their cockhead poked me in the eye. I took one cock in my mouth.

Whoever it was drove it deep. I gagged but could not stop it bumping against my throat. He pulled back, ready to ram it in again, when my head was pulled aside and he instead stabbed me in the cheek. Suddenly, a new cock lodged itself in my mouth. They face fucked me like a rabbit for a few seconds before I was then thrown pushed sideways. Someone came. I don't know who, but I felt a hot stream of cum on my forehead. There was jostling and rutting as new men pushed in while others fisted their cocks. I was surrounded by sexually aggressive males in heat - thinking only with their cocks. All wanting their chance to discharge on my face. I took another load from the side. I felt another new cock pushing against my lips and I opened my mouth. The head slipped in but before I could close my lips on it, a fat wad of hot jizz jetted into my mouth. At least partially in my mouth, as much of it hit my teeth, then spilled out down my chest. More and more cum was hitting me as spent cocks made way for new cocks. The smell of sex was everywhere.

My face, neck and chest were covered in a thick gooey layer that sagged and ran down. Clumps of lumpy hot cum that had not gotten stuck in my hair or on my skin pooled on the floor. I was kneeling in it. My hands were covered in it. I had swallowed as much as I could but there was so much that I ended spitting or coughing much of it out. It was a cum fiesta of a mess

The train was suddenly quiet and empty. I was left kneeling on the floor. My dress in a puddle around me on the dirty floor. My bra askew around my waist. My naked tanned breasts with their white bikini shaped triangles around the areolas and nipples hung down splattered with a coating of slimy dripping cum. My face and hair were covered in ropes and gobs of the still warm pearlescent where they had painted me with their man juice. My lipstick was smeared from the assault on my mouth. My tongue and mouth were filled with a thick layer of salty thick cum mixed with my own saliva. My own cock poking up above the waistband of my pre-cum soaked pink thong. My jaws ached as I tried to smile.

The doors opened again and, when I looked up to see two mops and pails on the platform, beside two cleaners in the neat green overalls. Along with them was a security guard, I guessed everyone must have quickly fled leaving me behind.