My first submission, so happy for any feedback you may have.
Never being a fan of the seats in train carriages, Lisa preferred to stand near the doors. This way she would not fall asleep, or get stuck behind too many people and not be able to get to the doors in time and miss her stop. It’s the little things that made her anxious.
Having left the office a little after 5, she knew she would get stuck in the busy Friday evening crowds. Oh well, can’t be helped. She just wanted to get home. She headed down the steps and through the styles at Town Hall station, and made her way to her platform, her overlarge shoulder bag bouncing against her hip.
Once the train arrived, Lisa jumped in. She knew which doors would open once at her stop, so neared the other side of the vestibule, and grabbed hold of the pole separating the doors from the saloon seats, leant her shoulder against it and settled in for her evening commute. More people crowded in, but not too bad. She knew it would get worse over the next 3 stops while they still made their way through the rest of the CBD before heading out to the suburbs.
The doors closed and the train proceeded. Lisa popped her earphones in, put on some nice jams, and relaxed for the 45 minute ride. Her fingers tapped against the pole to the beat of the music.
There was a slight tickle against the back of her leg. She paid not mind to it. Most likely a stray thread from the hem of her skirt.
Next stop arrived, and as predicted, the train filled up further, the space got a little tighter. Lisa shifted back a little, giving space to people entering. The man next to her reached over to hold the same pole to steady himself. The doors closed.
She could feel that tickle again. Due to the people around her, she could not reach down and wipe whatever it was away, so she subtly (she hoped) rubbed her legs against each other. The tickling sensation stopped.
Second stop, and now the place was packed. There was no chance of moving even if she wanted to, but that was fine as she still had over 30 minutes before she was anywhere near her stop. She focused on her music.
There it was again. That slight tickling feeling. It wasn’t a hair, it was something else. It kept flicking back and forth. She could not turn around or even look down with the press of bodies around, and the man’s arm blocking her from seeing the people seated in the saloon seats.
Lisa caught her breath. The light tickling touch had turned into a stroke. It was a finger! What the hell! She tried to turn, to move, but she was stuck hard and fast in this position. She had no idea who was touching her.
The stroking went back and forth along her skirt’s hemline, and slowly made its way upward. The soft touch sent shivers up her leg and her spine. Her breath caught. This had to stop. It was not an accidental touch, this was deliberate. And she did not even know who was touching her! She looked slightly at the man whose arm was blocking her sight. He seemed oblivious, focused on his phone held in one hand, the other still on the pole.
The finger was joined by its compatriots and moved slowly to the inside of her thigh. She clenched her legs to stop the movement, but could do nothing more. Her hands were on the pole steadying her, she could not move or turn, she was well and truly trapped.
The stalled hand started massaging her inner thigh. Whoever it belonged to, they knew what they were doing, even in that restricted position, Lisa could feel the warmth of the touch and she started tingling. Oh hell no, she was getting wet! The fingers felt strong yet delicate against her skin. Lisa could not hold back a slight shudder of enjoyment.
They felt it, she was sure of it. The massaging stopped, the hand turned slightly, giving a firm pressure for her to relax her legs. Lisa didn’t want to. Oh but she did! She wanted to feel the fingers keep rising and touch her more. But she was in a train for fuck’s sake! In public!
Instead of dampening her need, those thoughts made her burn up more. Damn it.
The pressure of the hand still insisted on the release of her legs. Lisa bit her lip, and relaxed her legs. How far would this go?
The massaging resumed, but this time kept rising beneath her skirt, closer and closer to her knickers. Lisa looked about her as much as she could, but still no way of seeing who it was.
Another stop, more people in and out, but still no space for Lisa to move away from the intrusion. Would she have moved though?
A realization came to her. How many people behind her could see what was going on? None? One? Many? What of the man standing right next to her, could he sense her arousal? Oh the thought made her shiver in embarrassment, but more, she felt the glow of desire. Is someone watching me?
The hand had turned upwards, and the middle finger now touched her panties right between her thighs. She caught her breath, felt the blush rise on her face. She was wet, and they can feel it, can’t they.
The middle finger skimmed lightly back and forth. Lisa could not help it, she opened her legs slightly more. She wanted more. Oh how she wanted to feel that finger inside her. Damn them.
The skimming got firmer, then pushed against her vagina through the cotton layer of her panties. Lisa turned her head and pushed her mouth against her shoulder, groaning lightly in pleasure.
Back and forth, the tip pushed against her vagina, with that little material stopping it from penetrating. Oh more, please!
It pulled back a little, and then lay against her clitoris. Just a touch, no movement. Lisa bit her shoulder. What a tease, this was interminable, this was torture. This was delicious.
Another stop, more people in and out, and the unmoving pressure stayed where it was. She wanted it to move, she wanted it to rub her. She moved her hips back a little toward her unknown invader, silently asking for more. It seemed the message was understood. In slow circles, the finger rubbed her, the moistness of her vagina moving along her knickers and oiling her clitoris, making the movement oh so more pleasurable. Again, she tried, with her limited movement, to push against this dexterous hand.
Then another finger snagged her knickers and pulled them to one side. She felt them shift back to her vagina and start rubbing directly on it. She squirmed, her groans of joy muffled against her arm and the noise of the train. She really hoped the man next to her did not notice. Or did…
And then it entered her. It was slow, but she felt the movement, the slight scraping of the nail against her inner wall. Once knuckle deep, it receded. No! She wanted it back in her. She was so turned on, so horny, she wanted to cum.
Again, the finger entered her, further this time, and further still. Oh god yes! Rippling heat ran through her body. Trapped as she was, she moved against the hand as much as she could, grinding down. Once more it pulled out, then back. But this time there were two fingers! They pushed in all the way. Lisa could feel her heart beating so hard, feel the juices running down her leg.
Then the fingers bent inside her, and started massaging the delicate and sensitive walls of her vagina. She moaned louder as she felt the rippling of an orgasm coming along. She gripped the pole harder, bracing for the shuddering moment.
Then the hand pulled away. She gave a small cry of protest, which caused a couple of people to look her way. She covered it with a cough. As if that would stop them seeing the blush on her cheeks, the quickened breathing. Still her neighbour did not look at her or acknowledge anything. She felt the orgasm slowly recede, but the burn was there, the need for release.
Another train stop. People in and out.
As the doors closed again, she felt the warm hand back, the fingers still slick with her juices. Oh please, do it! Yes! The two fingers entered her again, feeling slightly cool from having been out of her, but quickly warming up against the heat of her body. The massaging started again, the need grew in her further. They rubbed against the sensitive skin, turned slightly, and rubbed again. She started grinding again, feeling the heat build up, feeling her insides clench and release against the digital massage. Her body started to shudder. And the hand pulled away again. No! She felt empty, and the walls of her vagina just clenched against themselves futilely. She felt and gentle pat against her wet inner thigh, and a finger stroke down her leg and away.
Another stop, and this time, five people behind her alighted from the carriage, including her oblivious neighbour. With freedom of movement, she looked about her, and the people leaving. None looked her way. Which one was it? The doors closed behind them. Then two turned: her neighbour, and a gorgeous woman. They both looked at her and smiled, and the woman put her two fingers up for her partner to lick while he stared at Lisa with an amused expression in his eye. The train started to pull away.
And here she stood, 15 minutes from her stop and yearning for an orgasm, her body still spilling juices down her legs. She was trying to take in what had happened, how these two had played her. She hated them! She felt wronged! She felt so alive. She wanted them back.