The Pickpocket

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A pickpocket finds more than he expected.
1.1k words
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"Hey could you put this in your pocket for me?" Jessie asked me, holding out her wallet.

"Sorry, pocket's full." I already knew what was coming as she looked down at my jeans.

"Oh come on, why do you still wear those old things?"

"They're the comfiest jeans ever." I told her with my most innocent smile.

"What's wrong with them?" Anna asked, looking at my outfit and seeing no problem.

"They're about ten years old and have a hole the size of my hand in one of the front pockets." Jessie laughed.

"They are not ten years old." I said, "The rest might be true."

Anna laughed as well, "In that case then, fair enough."

"You think we're going to be way in the back?" I asked. We were walking down to our local concert venue to see one of our favourite bands. Deciding that at the grand old age of twenty eight, we were all long past arriving at noon for a show that starts at nine pm, we had settled on arriving an hour before and standing near the back if we had to.

"Maybe, but it's only a small place, we'll be able to see I think."

"Why did we ever bother waiting all day long?" Anna asked.

"We thought we were cool."

When we arrived the long line of people was still making their way inside so we joined in at the end. By the time we made it inside I was surprised by how close to the stage we were, it was a wide place so once everyone spread out it was ok. Jessie got us all bottles of water so we wouldn't have to move and lose our spots later. Soon the support band appeared and for once they were good. Within a few songs we were all dancing, jumping around while we still had some space.

By the time the support band were finished, promising we wouldn't have to wait long for what we were there for, a lot more people had come in and the space was much tighter. I was used to it so it was all right, if not overly comfortable. The only problem was that somehow Jessie and Anna had been carried away a little. I could see them but I knew even if I made my way back to them it wouldn't be long before it happened again.

Once the band came on it didn't matter anyway. The whole place erupted with noise from the crowd, then from the band themselves. I was too busy having a great time to worry about where my friends were, we'd talk about it on the way home anyway. Even when the crowd moved forward and there was too little space to dance I didn't mind. Where I was standing was a good spot considering how late we had arrived and I could see the band well.

The person behind me seemed to be extra close but it barely registered. Until I felt something strange. The guy who was pressed against my back seemed to be reaching for my jeans pocket. I almost laughed, the joke was on them because it was the pocket that Jessie had been laughing about earlier, they wouldn't find anything. I couldn't move but I figured there was no harm done. They seemed to realise it was a waste of time and began to pull back, not realizing they weren't as skilled as they thought. Then the hand stopped, still in my pocket. They'd found the hole. Jessie hadn't been exaggerating, you could fit a whole hand through it, as I'd noticed when I forgot it was there and accidentally put mine in there.

Rather than move on to someone who's pocket might contain money, this person seemed interested in what they had found. I tried to turn around and look at him, but he leaned closer to my face and shouted only loud enough for me to hear,

"Keep watching the stage."

I looked around but no one nearby had noticed anything was happening. How could they notice? I thought, we were all so close together. As much as I wanted to be horrified, I felt a little thrill sparking up in the pit of my stomach. A total stranger was an inch away from touching me in a way that I shouldn't want. But as I watched the band play, I willed him to keep going.

Without a word from either of us, I felt the hand move further down until there were fingertips playing with the end of my underwear. I stayed still, a statue in the middle of the swaying crowd. The fingers kept going, playing with the lace at the edge of my knickers, making me glad I'd worn my nice ones. There was such a conflict in my stomach. This was a total stranger, touching me. I knew it wasn't acceptable. And yet I did nothing.

Pushing in further, they moved away from the edge, grazing my most private area over the top of the lace. I gasped, a sound lost in the music. Even though it had been less than a minute since it began, I felt a trickle down there, letting me know I was ready. I think they felt it soak into my underwear, because they rubbed a little harder, a little lower and I wanted to beg them to reach inside the fabric.

As though reading my mind, they did. In a move much faster than any before it, the stranger pushed my underwear aside and sunk a finger into me, pressing against my soaked, swollen clit. I moaned, not just because I knew I could and no one would hear, but because I couldn't help it. The strange fingers moved like magic, pressing against me and stroking me exactly right. Every time I wanted them to move, to change direction it was like they knew exactly what I wanted. He pulled me closer to themselves and I leaned in without looking at them. I didn't want to spoil the moment.

I pressed myself against him as my knees began to feel weak, worried my legs would buckle beneath me. Feeling what was happening, the hand began to move faster, press harder, until I climaxed harder than I ever had before. It was stronger, and lasted longer than any encounter I had had in my life. It was the most incredible, liberating feeling to come back down to Earth with the band still playing in front of us all. No one knew what had just happened.

As I started to feel normal again, I felt the stranger discreetly pull their hand away and slip away, somewhere in the crowd. I had no way of knowing who it had been. I turned and looked at the crowd for a while, but it could have been anyone at all.

When the show ended, I found my friends and said nothing about what had happened. As we left I scanned the crowd leaving with us, wishing I could know.

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3 Comments
AnonymousAnonymous6 months ago

But why?

AnonymousAnonymousover 7 years ago
Agree with first comment

I don't see this as non-consent. Maybe a half second of reluctance. Doesn't really belong in this category.

AnonymousAnonymousover 7 years ago
So Erotic

I loved your story.

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