The Great Train Rubber

As she walked along, she tugged absently at the side of her skirt, trying to pull it lower as the wind threatened to expose her. The skirt stubbornly refused to go any lower, thanks to her rounded hips. Letting out a huff of frustration, she turned to study her likeness reflected in a metal surface attached to one of the station walls.

She gazed at herself momentarily in the slightly distorted image the unpolished metal offered her and flicked part of her black cornrows over her shoulder. It’s long down her back, just past her scapula, layered to her collar at the sides. Dawn’s pretty hot by modern standards, but looks hadn’t always given her the best of times because she was mixed-race. Her dad is a Nigerian refugee, while her mother is an English-descended third-generation Australian.

Her skin is a deep caramel color, her thick lips are pink, her eyes are golden brown, and her beautiful smile is made brighter by her white teeth.

She’s dressed in a short blue skirt, a white blouse, a matching blue jacket, a matching white lace bra (C-cup), and panties. The skirt is no longer a great fit, as it’s shrunk in the wash over time (at least that’s her excuse). When she bought it, it was just above her knees; now, it’s mid-thigh.

The train pulling into the station snapped Dawn from her visual and internal reflection, and she realized she had wandered to the end of the platform. She looked around and saw no other women in the group of commuters she was standing with. The trains in Sydney are notorious for perverts who like to grope women. While Dawn had never had it happen to her, there’s an unwritten rule that says the best way to prevent being molested is to stay with other women.

Since she had little choice, Dawn joined the men waiting by her and was suddenly swept along as they piled into the last carriage. She’s so small she’s like a cork being driven by an ocean swell, with little choice of where her final destination in the train car would be. When the crush of men stopped moving, she found herself near the back of the carriage. Men were on either side of her while behind her, another man was pressed tightly against her. Eventually, she’s facing one of the carriage windows so closely that she’s nearly pinned against it.

*****

Dawn remains still until the train doors shut with a soft swoosh, and the train leaves the station. She always enjoyed the train journey, as she found the rattle of the carriages, the rhythmic ‘duh dun duh dun duh dun’ sound the train wheels made over the tracks, and even the close press of bodies on the train comforting. Sometimes, the combination of all these things nearly made her drift off to sleep even when she was standing.

The first few minutes of the journey passed uneventfully. Then, as the train car rocked slightly, she felt something bump against her behind for the briefest moment. Her body tensed at the contact, but she didn’t panic, as it’s not uncommon in the pressed jumble of bodies to have accidental touching when the carriages swayed around.

Just as she’s starting to relax, she’s bumped again. Once, twice, and a third time. Dawn knew it wasn’t an accident this time, as it hadn’t been earlier. She could even tell ‘the bump’ felt like the back of someone’s hand, most likely the person behind her. She froze, suddenly frightened and sharply alert to any movement coming her way.

Seconds passed like minutes, and she wasn’t surprised when a hand touched her again. However, her breath is stolen because, this time, her left ass cheek is boldly cupped by the offending hand. The hand didn’t stop at just that either, as it started to massage, squeeze, fondle, and stroke over her skirt-covered ass. In one movement, his fingers even lightly touched the skin on the back of her upper thigh, and it caused a tingle to race up the length of her spine. Goosebumps flourish where the fingers touch her flesh, confusing her, but she ignores it. Dawn couldn’t deny the touch elicited a small twinge of excitement.

Dawn is trying to decide what she should do about the hand on her ass. Yet even as she’s thinking, the man’s hand slinks around her side and, with calm confidence, lands on her right breast. She gasps softly. The hand begins to knead and squeeze the firm but pliant flesh. This makes her brain spin as she has no idea how she should react. She looks around to see if anyone else has noticed what’s happening to her, but the men on either side of her have their backs to her, and she’s too short for anyone else to see in the tight pack of bodies around her. Dawn is inexperienced, sexually speaking, and has denied unwed sex due to her religious beliefs. Her dad had forbidden her from dating boys until she had finished high school, and though she’s now in college, she had never broken free from those moral shackles.

It’s her inexperience that’s causing Dawn difficulty in this moment. Her pent-up sexual energy has often caused her to fantasize about what it would feel like to have a man touch her most intimate places. However, on a public train during rush hour was the last place she had expected it to happen.
Even as she stared wide-eyed at his hand on her breast, his other hand (that had been on her ass) came around her side and started on her left breast.

Dawn blushed deeply as her nipples went hard inside her white lacy bra, and worse, she could feel the familiar warm tingle of arousal starting in her loins and growing into her stomach. She should fight this feeling, yet while her mind is reeling, her body responds to the stimulation. Dawn didn’t know how to stop him. She’d been brought up never to make a scene in public. It isn’t the done thing. Not to mention, her religious parents had raised her to be subservient to men, and Dawn had a submissive streak.

Dawn stood like a rabbit caught in headlights as she watched his hands hypnotically while they continued their assault on her breasts. She noticed that his hands were strong with long, slender fingers, and they looked as if they were the hands of an elderly man. She watched trance-like as his hands moved from her tits and, with quick ease, opened the three buttons on the front of her blouse before starting to loosen and untuck it from her skirt. Then, he quickly pulled her blouse with both hands until it bunched under her chin, exposing her white lacy bra to anyone looking. For the first time, Dawn reacted and grabbed his hands firmly, trying to pull her blouse down. She was scared someone would see her in such an embarrassing situation.

“Relax, Sweetie, I’m just having some harmless fun,” said a small male voice.

Dawn hesitated, her hands holding his as they continued to rub slowly over her increasingly sensitive tits. Eventually, she meekly removes her hands from his and lowers them back to her sides. Dawn knew she’d just surrendered to him; he would know this and take it as permission to continue.

The pervert senior citizen’s hands took full advantage of their newfound freedom and pulled the bra cups of both breasts lower so her small areolas and erect nipples were exposed to all. His fingers then started to caress, flick, and even lightly pinch her nipples, causing Dawn to groan softly as her nubs were always highly sensitive. She closed her eyes, partly due to the pleasure that was radiating from her breasts and groin, but mostly, she didn’t want to know whether others were watching her public surrender to the senior citizen.

Why am I letting this happen to me? It feels nice, but it’s wrong. This pervert is molesting me. How can I be enjoying this? What does that make me? His willing slut? Oh, God, please help me.