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Girl on the Train
B y Senor RojoBen sighed, sweating profusely on the train. Why he had decided to ride the Yamanote line during rush hour, he could not remember. Ugh, sweaty people were crushing into him.
"Shibuya, stopping at Shibuya."
The doors snapped open, and a bunch of girls rushed in, surrounding him and the other standing passengers in the train. The doors snapped shut, and the train lurched on to the next station as Ben grabbed the strap.
Suddenly, he felt a familiar sensation; occasionally a woman or schoolgirl would crush into him, and he would get to enjoy the only pleasurable sensation that anyone _could_ enjoy during such a commute.
Ben looked down at the girl crushing into him, her forehead level with his chin. She did not return his look. He could see the wire frames of her glasses peaking through her short, shoulder length hair that hid her face. He stared down the length of her, what he could see of the grey mini dress; her bare arms swaying to the rhythm of the train. She moved against him -- he could feel her chest heaving against him, as the undulating of the train pushed them against other people, and each other.
(Doh!) Ben tried to suppress it, but, as usual his tool had a mind of its own -- and it was stirring. Ben tried to move his book bag in between himself and the girl, but to no avail.
Ben winced as more people came in at Shinjuku, shoving him into the girl. Ben sighed, and dozed as the heat and the staccato rhythm of the train finally got to him. Suddenly, he felt hands at his waist.
(Pickpocket!) he thought, trying to move, too late. In the crush of people, he couldn't get his arms down below the sea of flesh not his own. He could feel hands at his waist shaking, and....???
Something was rubbing against his tool! He couldn't believe what he was feeling! And in the crush of people he _still_ couldn't get his arms below the shoulders of the sea of people around him. Suddenly, a small hand started rubbing his hardness through his pants....faster....faster. As he looked down at the girl, her face downcast, her body in the crush, the only sign that she was excited were her nipples making points through the short mini dress.
As the train rocked back and forth, Ben could feel the girl's legs shifting in between one of his own, her hands increasing in tempo as his head began to swim from the stuffiness in the train, and the girl's hands.
"The next stop is Harajuku. Harajuku is the next stop." The recorded voice of the conductor took him by surprise, and he stiffened, coming in his pants as the doors snapped open. With a start, the girl jerked her head back, smoothed down the pleats of the dress, and in one fluid motion put something in the front pocket of his trousers before getting off the train.
It was only after the doors snapped shut that Ben removed the what the girl had put in his pocket. Ben had no trouble figuring out what the pungent smell emanating from the card was. As he drank in her scent he read the contents of the card:
Miyako Takahashi
Sign: Libra
Birthdate: Secret (^.^)
Pocket Bell: 03-3723-XXXX
Cell Phone: 08-6834-XXXX
Smiling to himself, he put the card up in his front shirt pocket, and sat down in the now empty train for the ride home, covering his pants with the backpack.
He hoped that no one would notice when he got off the train.
End.