On a crowded train in London Town

In a pre-pandemic world…

I plan the first journey. You go to the front of Top Shop at Oxford Circus, arriving a few minutes before 5pm. I spot your bright blue scarf and the very short skirt, but I don’t let you see me.

At 5 exactly you start going down the stairs into the Underground. How easy life is now that Apple syncs everyone’s phones to the second. There’s a crush of people, almost but not quite touching, at the bottom of the stairs. Turning toward the gates, a hand brushes your ass. You don’t turn around – you can’t turn around, by our agreement – and you wonder if it was me or if it was someone else.

As you get on the escalator to descend, I’m about 10 people behind you and I can see that you’re getting a lot of attention. The skirt you wore is almost too short for decency. And your bra-less nipples are clearly on point and waving for attention with every step you take. I can already feel myself getting hard, and I suspect there are many men on this escalator who feel similarly. They just wish they could do what I’m going to do.

We agreed on the Central Line, eastbound, and you’re a little confused at the bottom of the escalator. London is not your city, and the people are storming by, a few cursing you. I myself have to walk past you so I don’t become obvious.

You start walking down the tunnel, and I’m right behind you now. I can smell your perfume and conditioner. It’s everything I can do not to take you right now and go back to my flat. I can almost see the bottom of your ass and every step is like a saunter toward the bedroom. I stop in the tunnel to catch my breath and to avoid looking like such a perv. If there were police here, they would give me a talking to for how I’m looking at you.

The eastbound platform is crowded, like it always is at 5pm. Like the amateur you are, you don’t walk very far down the platform, and you stop at the back of a large group of people waiting for the train to come – which it does, mercifully, a few seconds later.

The first few carriages are packed full: a good sign for the middle ones, which are always the most crowded, and which are precisely where you are waiting.

A dozen people or so get off in front of you after the train stops, and the people in front of you start crowding on. There looks to be about a dozen of you as well, so you should fit – but people are hurrying on nevertheless, squeezing themselves into the car.

It looks fully packed, so you hesitate to get on. I see a spot and come up behind you, guiding you firmly in the middle of the back up onto the carriage, where I follow immediately behind, pressing myself against you in the crowd.

It is as full as it gets, with barely enough room to reach a hand up to steady oneself. You put your left hand up and I notice the men nearby see your breast jiggle. Their eyes are laser-focused on it, and mine would be too if I were in front of you.

But I am directly behind, our legs nearly pressing together the whole way up, and my package fully embedded in your left ass cheek. I can see you take this in with a shift in your weight from right to left foot. And you lean back into me.

I can smell your hair and perfume now and, combined with the touch, I’m getting rapidly harder. You feel my cock growing against you, and you can even feel the shape. I haven’t work underwear especially for this moment. If the car were to empty out suddenly, I would have to cover myself because the tentpole in my thin suit trousers would be beyond obvious.

I glance around at the other faces near us. We’re lucky: most are turned away, reading their phones or closing their eyes as they listen to music. Anyway, we’re packed in like sardines, so there’s no visibility anyway. The men in front of you have discreetly moved their eyes away from your tits, but they keep casting their eyes around the car and coming back to them, watching them bounce as the carriage sways. Still, they can’t see behind you – and as long as I don’t look at you, they won’t be able to guess what I’m doing.

You push your butt farther into me as I grow, and now I take my right hand, previously limp at my side, and slide it down next to your skirt over your right cheek. No one is the wiser in the car, and you don’t react, so I squeeze.

Your jolt, almost imperceptible, surprises me but doesn’t seem to have alerted any of the other passengers.

Shit – the next station. People start to shuffle in the cabin, and I withdraw my hand and lean back slightly, though we are so crammed that it’s just an inch or two.

The doors open, and just a few people get off. We remain perfectly still, and a few other people get on around us. There isn’t enough space for everyone on the Tottenham Court Road platform and we hear a voice tell us to move down the carriages and move down the platform to the end carriages, where there is still space.

The doors close and immediately I return my hand to your ass, but this time I lean down a bit, so that my chest pressing your shoulder. You lean back into me, and I put my hand under your skirt. A quick stroke of your lips, and I feel your whole body quivering. I’m quivering myself – what if we’re seen? What if someone else makes a scene? What if there was another beautiful girl wearing a blue scarf and short skirt outside Top Shop and she’s still waiting for someone to touch her?

Your legs part as you reposition your feet. I do have the right person – or at least she’s enjoying it. I can feel your excitement as I run my finger down your slit. I can feel your breathing get heavier through my chest. My cock is still throbbing on your left cheek, and I tease you with a quick tip of the finger. Just a little penetration. A bit more lubrication for my fingers as I trace your lips and surround your clit with gentle, undulating pressure.

Holborn Station. Usually the most crowded. People are starting to shift again, and I withdraw my hand. I look up at the windows and in the reflection you seem to be trying to see me, see what I look like. A violation of our rules. I take a half-step back and people flood off the carriage and then back on. You turn slightly and I reposition myself precisely behind you, turning you as the crush of people reposition themselves so that you’re facing the long-way down the carriage. No windows to look in now.

There might be a problem with this new position, though. You’re so crowded in – and a few inches too short – so you can’t reach any of the grips. I pull your right hip with my free hand, back into me, so that your head rests on my chin and your back on my chest.

My cock is now at full excitement and is currently probing – as well as it can through my trousers and your skirt – the space between your cheeks. You feel it and start to raise and lower yourself very gently. If we were entirely alone, I could almost certainly slip into you from this position, and we both feel it.

My right hand is still on your hip and can’t go any lower, given our pose, so I start moving it up your right side very slowly. No one in the carriage seems to notice: it’s now, if anything, even more crowded – which didn’t seem possible.

You understand my intent and you bend your right arm and leave a gap between it and your side. My hand fills it and starts to massage the underside of your breast. Because we’re so close, I can look down over your shoulder to see your nipples as hard as they can be. Do I risk so obvious a touch? I do – and it’s like our minds are in sync. You reach your hand up to your face, and I move my hand behind your arm to give your right nipple a very quick squeeze.

The next station. It’s so close – but no one ever gets out here, not at this time of day in this direction. And no one does, not a single person.

I contemplate lifting your skirt and unzipping my trousers. I think we could get away with it for at least one stop. But, no – it’s too risky, and anyway I want to keep playing with you. This is only the first leg of our journey.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/i1wvfj/on_a_crowded_train_in_london_town