Handjob on the Commuter Train

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She thought about it for a second and then looked at her husband. "Maybe Mike can help you get started."

This entire time he stayed out of the conversation and his eyes told me he was eager to jump at the opportunity. However, he played it cool. "Well, if there's some time next week maybe I could look at it." Masterfully balanced. Making it sound like an unwanted chore was a crafty ticket. His wife gave him a knowing glance, pleased.

...

Work training was coming to an end soon and the babysitter was still around. The instructor babbled in circles without making any forward progress. For once I actually needed to use the bathroom so I got up and started walking out to the hallway. The instructor was giving me a dirty look as I walked out and that probably meant he'd note it in his journal or something. After I peed, I washed my hands and reapplied makeup. Just as I opened the door to leave, I noticed him waiting in the hallway.

Jesus, that creep was clocking my bathroom time, trying to fail me. Returning to the classroom, I glanced his way over my shoulder and pondered how I could fuck with him. He looked back, without bothering to disguise the reason he was waiting for me in the hallway. But being that close to end of the course, I decided not to, so I went back to the classroom and took good notes.

...

Ride home on the train was starting to become lonely. Lately I started sitting exclusively in back of train cars, deciding it was my spider lair.

That freakish one-time experience of messing around with a stranger left me feeling a bit hollow. What does it say about my social life if I found that little event the most entertaining and exciting thing this entire year? Maybe it was time for me to try a different job, much closer to home. It's true that I was always bitchy, but being confined to circumstance was making me irritable and I was sure that was why I started needling my neighbors, coworkers and commuters.

Then again, was I getting out of touch with my hobby? My thoughts were eroding my confidence. I needed a boost. Was I still that pretty? A handsome man sat in the seat next to me and settled in. He was appropriately on his half of the bench, with an open newspaper. As the train pulled away from a station, I suddenly yelled at him.

"Get your hands off my ass, you pervert!"

Everyone in the train car turned to look at him and his face turned pale, making him look like a guilty ghost. Few guys yelled accusingly at him, "Hey man, what the hell you doin'?"

Some woman yelled at him, "Leave that girl alone."

There was no good way out of this situation for him so he immediately got up off the seat and halfway ran out of the train car, shaking. Rest of the commuters turned around, the social justice having been met, except for the guy across the aisle. He looked vaguely familiar.

I locked eyes with him and said, "What?"

He didn't reply but kept staring at me disapprovingly. Facing him I lazily spread my legs and flashed him my panties, still making eye contact. He didn't look away. Was he the man who saw me chase that one guy off? That meant he was my audience, that he knew what my game was. An admirer! I could appreciate that. And I did.

Hiking the front of my skirt up, I reached under and slid my panties to the side, showing him my pussy. His eyes finally broke contact and he looked down between my legs. With two fingers, I spread my lips apart for him. He shook his head slowly and then forced himself to look away. That was interesting. Was he afraid of getting bated and humiliated the same way? Being a bystander, he was safe from my sick power games, so he shouldn't have worried. Maybe I was finally back to being my old self. I smiled and made myself decent.

...

At home I changed into jeans and a decent shirt and walked over to the Weaver house, ringing the bell. She opened the door and greeted me.

"Hi Katy, sorry to bother you but I thought I'd ask if you guys can help me with my pla-, I mean Earthboxes. Would you be interested?" Whole point was to draw her husband out to do my bidding and make her jealous in the process, but I couldn't make it look suspicious by shopping for him directly.

"Well, ..." she started thinking of an excuse.

I countered, "I'd pay you for your trouble, of course." She groaned and thought it over twice, and then accepted.

"All right, let me go get Mike."

That was what I had hoped she'd do. She turned around and walked into her house. A pretty calico cat came out to look at the door and tried to run out, but I blocked her. I heard her yelling in the background "Mike!" He was in their basement, so she went to get him. They talked briefly and by the time they got back, he had a measuring tape in his hand.

"Hi Jen," he said and smiled at me. His wife picked up the cat and set her down in the kitchen. I took the opportunity to wink at him and he blushed. She came back and said, "Alright lets go look."

Damn it, I didn't want her with me. She wasn't supposed to be a witness to him being over where she couldn't see him. Her imagination was supposed to go wild and drive her crazy. Six hydrangeas died for this. The three of us went into my backyard and started looking around. By comparison to the front, it was a wasteland but I could fit plenty of planter boxes there and... well, maybe plant some tomatoes. Fresh ones taste so much better than ones from a store.

Mike was measuring sides of the house and corners and grunted in strain as he bent down. Occasionally he'd glance at me when she wasn't looking and I winked at him each time. It made him smile.

"We got a lot of work to do," she said and pointed at all the dead grass. "At least we're starting with a blank slate, so that's something."

Bitch.

...

Next week, two of them came over again and she sprayed outline marks on the turf and told him what she was thinking. The day was hot and there was no shade to hide in except for under my porch, so we set up sawhorses there. I had actually wanted some planter boxes, or whatever the hell they were, so I committed to buying materials enough for three.

The hardware store guy delivered it for free because I was the hottest piece of ass at the store batting her eyelashes at him, and that made Mrs. Weaver frown and roll her eyes when she found out. I winked at Mike and he chuckled to himself. There were only few moments here and there where I could flirt with him behind her back.

His wife eventually got bored and went to watch her tv show. When she got back an hour later, I was standing in front of the sawhorses and giggling as he stood behind me showing me how to use a circular saw.

"Mike!" she yelled at him harshly. I creamed my panties because of it. He turned around in embarrassment and scuttled over to her and she had a few quiet choice words to tell him privately. That's when I really got horny. This little roundabout effort was finally paying off- she was mad at him, yet she was technically the reason he was over here, and thus it was her fault he was in trouble. But, she was upset that he was hovering over my young hot body.

...

Work training was wrapping up. We had certification testing soon and then it would be all over. I made sure not to make any trouble and I was sure I'd pass, because I wasn't an idiot.

...

"Naw, she's just being herself, it's no thing," Mike explained and continued sanding a plank resting over the sawhorses.

For a moment, I felt bad for him being used as a pawn in my little game with her. Thinking to cheer him up a tiny bit, I touched his shoulder and cheerfully said "You know if I was a bit older I'd totally make a pass at you." This was my best ham-fisted attempt at simultaneous sympathy and rejection.

He grinned and looked to the side and replied, "I'd do the same if you were a little younger."

That was so fucked up. Was he on the spectrum? I gave him a genuinely puzzled smile and ran off to do something else.

...

Certification pre-test was going on, and the babysitter was all in my face over how I was answering things too quickly. There was no point explaining to him that this wasn't my first time in training, so I let it go. The balding instructor just stared, waiting for me to go piss so he could mark it in his little notebook.

...

Walking through the back yard, I picked up two unplanted ferns and held them like pom-poms.

"Ta daaa," I sang out and faked a few cheerleader moves to Mike, ferns flying up and down.

He looked to his side, then turned around all the way, and with a serious face replied, "No, not like that. Over there," and pointed at the sawhorses under the deck. Playing along, I playfully walked there, almost skipping, hoping his wife would arrive to see this.

Moments later, I gasped in surprise.

"Hey, what the fuck-" I yelled out, and he cut me off.

His big hands landed on my waist and back and I got pushed roughly into the sawhorse beam, bending me over it. The ferns fell to the ground as I braced myself at the last split second.

"Stop fucking with my wife, you little cunt, " he barked at me.

"STOP! Let go of me!" I yelled through my teeth.

"Quiet, or she'll hear us," he hissed at me. Was he stupid? Didn't he realize he'd be in trouble if she did? That was the whole point of me yelling, making noise would be to my advantage. Why would I be persuaded to be quiet? I started to push off angrily, but he grabbed my neck with his right hand and pushed me back down.

"Stop! What are you doing?" I called out and tried to squirm out of the way, sideways. Less than a pace away, he switched hands and his grip around my neck tightened, his fingers pressing on my throat. His other hand moved me back to the center. He was really big and strong. His hand could nearly wrap around my entire neck, and it nearly did. I could feel myself turn red from exertion.

He ground his crotch against me and I could feel his hardon press against my ass. "Shut up, you little whore," he said and then added, "Do you think I'm stupid? I've known for months. Do you think I'd let you keep playing your games?"

What in the fuck was he talking about?

And why was he so harsh all of a sudden. Moments ago it was politeness and deference and now this. I tried to push away from the beam but then I felt his cock press against my leggings.

"Let go of me, Mike!" I nearly yelled out again, but his cock made me remember the businessman fondling my ass, his finger resting over my butthole, so it came off quietly. My mind shouldn't wander, I needed to deal with this situation. Why did my mind travel so much?

"Mike, if you don't let go of me right now, I'll scream." I threatened again.

"You could've screamed before you encouraged me to bend you over this sawhorse," he argued.

"How did I encourage you,..." I replied angrily. As I said that, I felt stupid because he was distracting me off the point. The point should have been that I was going to call the police. His cock pressed harder against my ass and I fought to squirm out of its way. Then, I felt his head line up right against my asshole and he pressed it in against the fabric.

"I'm serious, let go of me or I'll scream," I growled at him.

His hand slipped in the side of my leggings and pulled them down a few inches, then he switched hands and did the same with the other, still holding me down firmly by my neck. Still trying to push myself of the sawhorse beam, I reached with a hand at a time and pulled my leggings partly back up.

"Stop, I'm not wearing any underwear," I told him.

That was stupid. What did it matter if I did or didn't? I felt a flash of anger at myself. He let go of my neck and put his middle finger in my mouth.

"What the fuck-" I said in surprise, muffled. With me distracted and confused - why wasn't I screaming or biting his finger off? - he pulled my tights down to middle of my ass and put his hard cock right in the crack. This time, I let him.

"C'mon baby, suck it" he said and I was very confused. His other hand returned to my hip.

"Mike, let go of me," I replied, still muffled with his thick finger right in my mouth. Drool was filling my mouth and I had to swallow it to breathe. Doing so involuntarily, it forced me to suck his finger a little.

"Yeah, that's it you little slut," he said and slid his cock up and down my crack, dry humping my ass.

"I didn't do that on purp-" I started to justify myself and then felt his hard cock line up right against my asshole again. I panicked in fear and again thought about the businessman. The random impulse for him to finger my ass on the train was just as unexpected as the surprise of being bent over a sawhorse with Mike's cock pressing against my horny asshole. Guess I could have struggled harder. Why didn't I?

Without thinking, I started sucking on his middle finger and without thinking, pulled my tights down to my knees.

"See, I knew you were a little whore" he said and pulled away, releasing me.

Confused, I turned around and saw him zip up. What the fuck? He somehow managed to get me to shut up and let him do it and I was so ready for him to fuck my ass. But instead, he was putting it away.

He said, "You stay away from my wife and stop fucking with her head." Just before he walked away, he put his hand up my shirt and felt up my breasts for a moment, sighing. Guess he was going to make the best of this situation before having to reenter reality.

Truly I didn't understand what was going on. Moments ago, he bent me over the sawhorse, put his cock against my asshole, got me to go with it and almost beg him for it, groped my tits, and now he was just walking away?

"Mike, are you going to help me finish the planters?" I asked, scrambling for things to say to stop him from leaving. God, I was so confused. Who was running this show?

He turned around and replied, "No. You fuckin' deal with it," adding, "For sake of form, I'll drop by a few more times, but stop fucking with my wife."

For minutes, I just stood there with my leggings pulled down, dumbfounded, like the stupid whore I was.

...

Next day I couldn't concentrate at work. The babysitter was lecturing and the instructor was sitting down taking notes. There was no way I could tell what was going on because my mind was still racing from yesterday. From being on top of my game to getting put in my place was a total shock to me. It's true that I enjoyed playing my games and twisting reality for others, but having that done to me was so disorienting. Was her husband smarter and more evil than me?

While I rationalized my relationship with the universe, I thought of his cock pressing right against my asshole. What would I have done differently? The slut in me would have pleaded with him to let me suck his cock instead, and then once it got nice and wet, I'd beg him to fuck my ass. The good girl in me would have been crying the whole time. Why didn't he fuck me?

Of course, the real me couldn't hold it anymore and snuck out to the bathroom to masturbate.

The moment I sat down on the toilet, I nearly ripped my panties off and started rubbing my clit in desperation. In fact, they did get ripped. The stall door didn't even close all the way. I held my breath and relived yesterday the best I could, though with some variations. In my mind, it was Mike on the train, fingering my ass while I sucked his cock and his ugly wife guided my head with a fistful of my hair and was calling me names. That scene was so disgusting in my head that it was working and I started getting close to cumming.

Just then the stall door slammed open.

The balding instructor was on the other side of it and he had his dick out. I was too shocked and involved to immediately respond. In fact, I was just like a deer caught in headlights. I couldn't stop rubbing my clit since I was so close, and the shock of seeing him open the door still didn't register as reality. He was stroking it and I forgot to breathe for ten seconds.

"You fucking tease," he said and added, "you made me wait months for that blowjob."

My mouth was open in astonishment and I was just now stopping to rub my clit and my brain was gearing up to respond when he stepped in and closed the door behind him. His cock was so hard and it was so close now.

"I gave you a 100% on that test," he said, still stroking his cock.

"Fuck," I said absent-mindedly and stared at it. He was stroking it slowly and I realized that way too much time had passed for me to object or scream at him to get out. The shock of him barging in hadn't abated yet and I was priming myself for a fight or flight. Apparently, I didn't stop rubbing my clit, I was doing it more furiously as I stared at his cock.

It was sticking sharply to his left, strained against the opening in his patterned pants. His tie was pushed to his right, and his pubes were red and curly. His balls were out along with his cock, and the head was red and looked like he was uncut. Or was he? It wasn't apparent. Oh my god, it was so ordinary looking. And so much like what I'd imagine my father's cock would look like if he was a redhead. The unkempt pubes stuck out from his balls.

"Fuck," I said again, but this time I was saying it at myself because I replaced his hand with mine and started stroking it slowly. He shouldn't have been in here! He was cut, just not typically. His skin was stretchy. I did this in complete disbelief of what I was doing, with my mouth wide open.

"Fuck," I repeated but this time the word sounded like a stifled moan. Why did my voice sound so weird, I thought, mentally preparing to flee? This wasn't a train car, it wasn't my playground. It was supposed to be a safe place, a bathroom, a place where I had guaranteed privacy.

When my hands gripped his hips for balance, I realized I was sucking his cock. It's not like I wanted to, or that I was planning to, but it just happened. Somehow, I felt fear right on my pussy, reaching in and overwhelming me, and it modulated with how deeply I sucked it. Deeper made me feel very afraid of what I was doing and the opposite direction made me feel horny for it.

This was so nasty!

Mortified, I heard myself peeing in the toilet, and I kept sucking it.

His head hit the back of my mouth and I swallowed some saliva to stave off a gag. As it was happening, I puckered my lips tightly and felt my pussy spasm as I finished peeing. He smelled like a smoker.

"Damn, you're a dirty girl," he said stupidly.

He put his hand on my head and I let my hands drop. He started fucking my mouth slowly and I let him. What in god's name was I doing? Letting him fuck my mouth deeper and deeper, apparently. I was starting to struggle for breathing, but this moment was so freaky that I couldn't think straight. My nose was working overtime, and he grabbed a handful of my hair with his other hand, fucking my mouth faster.

Why didn't Mike fuck me? He had me bent over the sawhorse and I myself pulled my tights down for him in the end. And then he just walked away. I was so much prettier than his ugly wife.

The instructor kept fucking my mouth rougher and mercilessly, like he never thought about me needing to breathe. Somehow, I felt I deserved it for all the times I was a bitch to him. I started squeaking for air every time he slid into my mouth and against all reason got excited hearing it. My mind was beginning to think about all sorts of fucked up things to top this one, including getting railed in Mrs. Weaver's bed while wearing her oversized lingerie.

"Fuck, you were so worth the wait," he said.

Had to stop my mind from wandering, from escaping. I was always escaping. This wasn't real. He really wasn't fucking my mouth. No, this was real, and it was awful. I wasn't enjoying it. It was degrading and uninvited. I wanted more of it. I wanted to stop him, but it's already been minutes. How would I stop this? Why didn't Mike fuck me? I was peeing again. No, I was rubbing my clit so hard I was creaming so hard, I was orgasming. I saw lights in my head and felt his cock bottom out in my throat and his cum splashing everywhere, me struggling to swallow it in a bizarre mixture of disgust and pleasure.