It was rush hour, and it was crowded in that car. Always is, and usually I hate it. Squeezed into a corner of thetrain, clinging desperately to the handrail above me asI’m surrounded by men and women coming home from work orshopping or whatever it is they did that dragged them outinto the misery we shared. I feel arms and knees andelbows and backs all around me, crushing me alive. People reading newspapers or magazines or looking out thewindows or talking to each other, trying to forget howuncomfortable they all are. Every bump and lurch of thesubway car causes us to sway, and I’m forced to sway withthem. It’s all I can do to hang onto the rail, yet I feellike if I let go, I’ll still remaining standing, held upby the flood of people surrounding me. It was in this state that I was in the train pulled intothe Cortelyou Station. At this stop, as at every stop, Iwas hoping silently that some of the people would get offand ease up on the pressure. I watched some of themfiling off with relief, but not enough of them left. Andmore began to file in. Then more. I grit my teeth as theyforced themselves into the already crowded train, beingcompacted slowly. Finally, the doors closed and we beganmoving again, even more crowded than before. It was only when we had been going for a while that Inoticed the woman in front of me. She was very attractiveas she looked down at a newspaper she was reading. Herlong red hair fell down over the shoulders of a greenblouse, and I glanced down to see her curvy body wasbeing hugged by a light black skirt. She was facing awayfrom me, and I realised with a jolt that the crowds hadpositioned us so that my crotch was pressing up againsther rear. I tried to look away and not think of the awkwardness ofthe situation. She didn’t seem to have noticed. Yet, asthe train swayed on the tracks, I found myself beingpushed up against her, again and again. I could feel thecurves of her asscheeks through her skirt against mybody, and with every bump I was pressed up against them.It didn’t take much imagination to feel as if I wasthrusting into her, over and over again, guided by themovements of the train. The only thing preventing it frombeing a reality were the thin layers of our clothes. It was so easy to imagine those clothes being gone. Icouldn’t help thinking about it. In fact, it wasn’t anunappealing thought. I glanced down at her, then tried tofocus on a cigarette ad on the wall as I was bounced intoher again and again. She shifted a little, and her buttrubbed against my crotch. It was too much for me. I felt a chill of horror as Ifelt my body begin to respond. I swelled in my jeans, andthe sensations increased as I moved against her, causingme to swell even more. Within seconds, I was hard as arock. Sweat broke out on my face as I realised she was going tonotice. She would feel my hardness against her, andrealize she was pushing up against a pervert. She’d bedisgusted and react with horror and scream or pull away,which would be just as bad because I was enjoying itdespite myself. I bit my lip, trying to will my body torespond, and waiting for her to react. Yet nothing happened. She continued to read the newspaperas I bounced against her rear, as if nothing washappening. She had to have noticed. Maybe she hadn’t, wasall I could think. Maybe she would think it was just anelbow or something and I’d get away with it. I felt alittle relief, but decided not to push it. I had to endthis before it got out of hand.

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