I was late. As always. And had to be on time. As always, too. With sweat pouring down my forehead, I rushed down the steep escalator, always taking two steps at a time and mumbling "Sorry..." incessantly. It was actually ridiculous to hurry like that, because every two minutes a subway train headed towards my workplace. And I couldn't make it to my morning meeting on time anyway. Nevertheless, I rushed on.

The last few steps turned into leaps. Someone tried to hold the door open. Carelessly, I squeezed between them, got stuck for a moment, then pushed myself forward with a jerk, was free and the subway started moving. I groaned and moaned, as if my little bit of weight had become too much for them. I pushed my way further into the crowd as politely as I could.

My journey would take a good half hour. I couldn't stay that long in the area of the door, which was constantly opening and closing and through which too many people had to get on and off at every stop. As always at this time of the day, it was annoyingly crowded. Rush hour on the subway. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been on the subway. Neither on the way there nor on the way back. But I would be sitting on my office chair long enough. It didn't hurt me to stand a little. It got even more crowded with every station, which was actually hard to imagine. I could hardly move, it was getting so crowded.

People were standing close together. I started to sweat. The short jacket I was wearing over my summer dress bothered me, I was too warm, but it was impossible to take it off. It was too tight around me and I didn't feel like tucking it under my arm. I kept sweating and hoped no one noticed, just as I thought I could smell the others who were sweating,

Bored, I watched the people around me. Most of them were engrossed in their newspapers or had their eyes closed. I always tried to avoid physical contact during the ride, which was ridiculously impossible. Today, too, I bumped into someone behind me.

My body immediately wanted to tighten up again after that brief moment, but the moment had been enough to notice the body behind me. And I had felt muscles. Male muscles that had felt pleasant!

For whatever reason, I decided not to turn around and mumble "sorry" like I usually do. And I even leaned back a little so that I could feel this muscular, undoubtedly masculine body once again. A hand moved to my back, as if to support me. The hand was strong and I felt comfortable. The shaking of the subway made everyone else a little sleepy, but I was wide awake.

Because the hand moved along my back. It slid down lower and brazenly stayed where my butt was. That couldn't be a coincidence. And certainly not when the hand pressed gently but firmly against my buttocks through the thin fabric of my clothes. I breathed faster and closed my eyes to enjoy the touch more intensely. The hand that was groping my bottom so tenderly and convincingly was quite daring.

I tried to imagine what it looked like, this hand that was touching me so outrageously sensually. The shape of the fingers, the fingernails, the back of the hand and even the palms. What should I do now? What did I have to do now? Should I move or stay still? Should I perhaps pretend not to notice, as if none of this concerned me?

And then suddenly, first one and then two fingers slid deeper between my buttocks. I was certainly sweating enough there as it was, but now ... I shifted my weight so that my legs opened a little. The situation was unbelievable, unreal. And I let myself be turned on in the most impossible way. In a rough, dirty way! And that's what I liked.

Under half-closed eyelids, I watched the people in front of me. I wondered if anyone had any idea what was going on in my butt crack. The subway train pulled into the next station and stopped with screeching brakes. My hand slipped off my butt for a moment, which I regretted. People pushed on, around me. I pressed myself against the body behind me to signal that I was still interested in the hot touch . The subway started up again with a jolt and I was able to enjoy it again.

The fingers wanted more, as did I, and slid forward, under the dress and up the inside of the fabric a little to the edge of my panties. Sweat formed on my neck. The fingers wouldn't dare. Wouldn't dare. Not in this situation. But I hoped they would... And then my briefs pulled down and my fingers slipped inside. I was breathing fast. And sweated more and more. I nervously ran my hand over my damp neck and got excited by the way the fingers touched my bare bottom. The way they slid into the crack of my bottom and circled my anus as if it was completely normal, as if it was something people did in the subway in the morning on their way to work.

My anus seemed to be opening eagerly, that's what it felt like. My face turned red with shame. And probably got even darker as the fingers felt their way forward. Right into my pubic area. I sighed softly, carefully, still in control of myself, but a woman looked at me strangely. I smiled innocently and pressed harder against the fingers rubbing back and forth between my legs.

At first reluctant and a little guilty, then giving in to the arousing desire for more, I tried to open my legs as much as I could in the human confines. The muscles pushed closer.

I could suddenly smell the stranger among all the other passengers. His smell among all the other smells. The subway stopped again and the fingers pushed into me with a jerk. They wedged themselves into my agitated shame, as if they wanted to anchor themselves in it so that we wouldn't be separated in the crowd that was now setting in.

People got on and off and bumped into us, me and the body behind me, pushing us along, but the fingers stayed inside me, digging even deeper and again I had to sigh. No one heard it. Only the eyes of the woman opposite me became more intense, more curious. She must have suspected something. Maybe she wanted to take part in our depraved game, maybe she wanted to be a silent voyeur.

A finger pushed forward onto my clitoris and began to massage it. Persistently. Presumptuous. Sweat ran down my neck and breasts and into my panties. I slowly increased my arousal, wanted more, couldn't get enough. I was greedy for the finger. For the hand. My abdomen pushed back and forth almost imperceptibly to increase the pressure on the finger.

And then, no, I wasn't mistaken, I felt something else on my bottom. Something hard, long and thick. It was his penis nudging me! The subway jolted and the bulging strap nudged me harder, almost provoking me. I could now hear, feel and smell his breath behind me. And rubbed myself harder on the finger.

I couldn't believe how shameless I was and how much I was enjoying it! And my lust grew and grew and I would have loved to turn around, rip everything off my body and orgasm between all the people.

The forbidden nature of the situation was what made it so special "Do it to me...", I whispered barely audibly and more to myself, but the woman opposite me could probably read my lips. She looked as if she knew everything, as if she understood. The fingers pressed harder, the body pressed harder against me. I was going to explode in this hand at any moment. I could feel how hot I was. My panties seemed to be soaked with my lust by now.

The subway stopped again. I couldn't remember which subway station we were in. I had forgotten my work. The crowd around me seemed to be getting denser. I was afraid that my fingers would slip out and my hand would withdraw, and the man who owned the hand might well get off before I got there. But everything became even tighter around me and my abdomen was pressed even closer together with the one behind me. And then my breath came thick and fast and sweat broke out of every pore and orifice at the same time, mixing with the flow of my pleasure.

A thick penis somehow pushed its way inside me. How could that be? And yet that was what I felt. The woman's eyes pierced me. She seemed nervous or was it excitement that was reflected in her face? I stood on my tiptoes so that his penis could thrust deeper into me. It was hard and strong and bulging with pleasure. The foreign breath reached my neck, sliding down it and I felt excitingly dirty. The woman in front of me swallowed with her mouth open, not taking her eyes off me. Her tongue wet her dark, full, beautiful lips and I could see her nipples hardening. She was only wearing a thin silk blouse with a light-colored bra underneath. Her breasts were plump and I felt a desire to touch them.

Excited, I pushed myself down and up again, never taking my eyes off her nipples. I kept pushing myself up and down on the unknown cock that was thrusting into me. My orgasm was like being immersed in hot lava. The sweat now covered my whole body and ran in streams over my breasts and stomach, collected between my thighs and dripped to the floor. With a tiny final push, the stranger inside me came ...

The subway stopped with a sharp jerk. I was pushed roughly against the woman in front of me. She widened her eyes in annoyance. "Sorry," I mumbled. Confused, I looked around. The station meant nothing to me. It was unknown to me. It must be behind the one I usually got off at. I pushed myself out roughly and almost got stuck in the door. I pulled myself free and walked to the opposite side of the subway tracks. It was unbelievable. It was ridiculous. I had been fantasizing. Dreamt erotically and missed my exit. And I would be late. For good.

"Dirty women's fantasies - "Dirty!" by Lisa Cohen - Carl Stephenson Verlag

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