Sex in the New York subway

It was rush hour, and it was crowded in that car. Alwaysis, and usually I hate it. Squeezed into a corner of thetrain, clinging desperately to the handrail above me asI’m surrounded by men and women coming home from work orshopping or whatever it is they did that dragged them outinto the misery we shared. I feel arms and knees andelbows and backs all around me, crushing me alive.
People reading newspapers or magazines or looking out thewindows or talking to each other, trying to forget howuncomfortable they all are. Every bump and lurch of thesubway car causes us to sway, and I’m forced to sway withthem. It’s all I can do to hang onto the rail, yet I feellike if I let go, I’ll still remaining standing, held upby the flood of people surrounding me.
It was in this state that I was in the train pulled intothe Cortelyou Station. At this stop, as at every stop, Iwas hoping silently that some of the people would get offand ease up on the pressure. I watched some of themfiling off with relief, but not enough of them left. Andmore began to file in. Then more. I grit my teeth as theyforced themselves into the already crowded train, beingcompacted slowly. Finally, the doors closed and we beganmoving again, even more crowded than before.
It was only when we had been going for a while that Inoticed the woman in front of me. She was very attractiveas she looked down at a newspaper she was reading. Herlong red hair fell down over the shoulders of a greenblouse, and I glanced down to see her curvy body wasbeing hugged by a light black skirt. She was facing awayfrom me, and I realised with a jolt that the crowds hadpositioned us so that my crotch was pressing up againsther rear.
I tried to look away and not think of the awkwardness ofthe situation. She didn’t seem to have noticed. Yet, asthe train swayed on the tracks, I found myself beingpushed up against her, again and again. I could feel thecurves of her asscheeks through her skirt against mybody, and with every bump I was pressed up against them.It didn’t take much imagination to feel as if I wasthrusting into her, over and over again, guided by themovements of the train. The only thing preventing it frombeing a reality were the thin layers of our clothes.

It was so easy to imagine those clothes being gone. Icouldn’t help thinking about it. In fact, it wasn’t anunappealing thought. I glanced down at her, then tried tofocus on a cigarette ad on the wall as I was bounced intoher again and again. She shifted a little, and her buttrubbed against my crotch.
It was too much for me. I felt a chill of horror as Ifelt my body begin to respond. I swelled in my jeans, andthe sensations increased as I moved against her, causingme to swell even more. Within seconds, I was hard as arock.
Sweat broke out on my face as I realised she was going tonotice. She would feel my hardness against her, andrealize she was pushing up against a pervert. She’d bedisgusted and react with horror and scream or pull away,which would be just as bad because I was enjoying itdespite myself. I bit my lip, trying to will my body torespond, and waiting for her to react.
Yet nothing happened. She continued to read the newspaperas I bounced against her rear, as if nothing washappening. She had to have noticed. Maybe she hadn’t, wasall I could think. Maybe she would think it was just anelbow or something and I’d get away with it. I felt alittle relief, but decided not to push it. I had to endthis before it got out of hand.
I shifted myself around a little to turn my crotch awayfrom her ass as much as I could. Then I felt a shock as ahand touched my hip. It tucked a finger into the pocketof my jeans and pulled me until it had turned me aroundagain, so that my crotch was buried in her cheeks onceagain.
The woman in front of me glanced up from her newspaper.Her blue eyes locked on mine, and I felt the full impactof what was happening in that brief moment before shelooked down at the paper again. It was her hand that hadpulled me back. It was she who had pulled me back intoher. The message was clear. She didn’t want me to stop.

Daring not to breathe, I began to sway with the train alittle more. I tried to make it look as if it was justthe movements of the car, but moved with it to pushmyself against her. My hips bounced lightly against herrear, deeper against her. I felt pressure with everythrust. She was pushing back at me. Among these crowds ofpeople, we were silently making fucking motions towardeach other.
I leaned my head back as I pushed harder against her.Pleasure flowed through me as I felt her warm bodyagainst mine. Looking down at her, I could see her cheekswere growing pinker and she was gripping the newspapertighter. I glanced around us. No one seemed to notice orcare. It was just the two of us in a sea of people.
I let go of the rail with one hand, and slid it downcasually. I let my hand drift between us to cup one cheekof her ass. I squeezed it lightly, and I heard her inhalesharply as she pressed against it.
When I felt her hand again, it wasn’t as surprising asthe last time. Her fingers slid to my zipper and pulledit down. Then her hand slipped into my jeans and pulledmy swollen shaft free of my briefs. Freed, it sprang outand pushed against her ass.
As casually as I could I lifted her skirt. It was onlythen that I discovered she wasn’t wearing anythingunderneath, because my cock buried itself inside her bareass. I was soaking wet by then and my preseminal fluidsalong with the natural rhythm of the bouncing train madequick work of what might have been awkward in othercircumstances.
She clenched her cheeks together, gripping my shafttightly as I thrust back and forth against her. Iclutched the handrail tighter and heard her newspaperrustle as she tightened her grip on it as well. She wasbreathing heavily as I began to push harder and fasterinto her, rubbing her crack with my hardness.
Then she bit her lip and gave off a soft squeak. I felther cheeks clenching in rhythm as she came, and thesensation sent me over the edge. I couldn’t hold back agrunt as I climaxed in her. I felt my come shoot intoher. We were pressed together, shuddering, surrounded bypeople, but not caring.
The train gave off a whine as it pulled into the nextstation. I flushed with panic as I hurried to tuck myselfinto my clothes again and zip up the fly. Her hand swepther skirt into place. We arranged ourselves just in timeas the train came to a stop and the doors opened.
People began to file out. The woman turned away from meand I heard the rustle of paper. Then she tore off theedge of her newspaper. She slipped it into my hand as shelooked up at me once more. Her expression was calm andneutral, but I saw a flicker of amusement in her eyes fora brief moment. Then she walked out with the others. Icaught a glimpse of a glistening wetness running down herinner thighs as she walked away.
I looked down at the paper she had given me. It had ahastily scribbled message on it that read: “I’ll be onthis train next Tuesday. Hope you will too.”
I guess rush hour isn’t so bad, after all.