FUCKED IN A TRAIN

The train car smelled like stale cigarettes and something metallic, like old blood or rusted pipes. I chose the seat by the window anyway, pressed my forehead to the cold glass, and watched my breath fog against the window.

I'd been circling this station for three weeks now, every midnight, but hadn't gotten any luck so far. It was as if the universe knew what I was out to achieve and was making certain I didn't get it.

I joined my legs together just as my pussy throbbed. I'd worn a pair of jeans today on a whim. Since I started using this platform, I'd only ever worn mini skirts. I hadn't gotten any luck with them, though.

I didn't find a man who would rape me. Or even men. I needed that, have been craving to be manhandled by at least one man.

Tonight, I was wearing a white cotton tank top with no bra. My nipples were already tight from the air conditioning, pebbled and obvious, and I didn't cross my arms to hide them. I needed it out so any man who stepped in would see me and take what I'm offering.

I glared at the empty chairs and wondered when I would get the luck. I didn't take the platform during the daytime because there would be too many people here, and as much as I enjoyed being looked at while getting fucked, I don't want anyone to call the police on me.

I was about to lie back and have a nap since it was obvious tonight would be just like the other nights when the doors hissed open at the next stop and three men stepped on.

The first one filled the doorway. He has broad shoulders, and his blonde hair is cropped short. His hands were almost the size of dinner plates. When his eyes swept the car, they dismissed everything and landed on me.

He didn't look away, and I didn't either.

Behind him, a second man moved into the car. He was built like a freight train. He has a thick neck, a shaved head, and a chest so broad he had to turn sideways to clear the doorway. His nose looked like it had been broken at least twice, and when he saw me, his mouth split into a grin.

The third man was lean and looked almost harmless with his baby face and long hair. He has silver rings on every finger. He moved to the far end of the car and leaned against the door with his arms crossed.

My heart raced and my pussy throbbed. I got wet just thinking of the men taking me, just like I had fantasised. My nipples tightened some more, and they poked through my top.

The first man walked straight toward me. The train car was empty, and he could have taken any seat he wanted, but he chose the one directly across from mine.

When he sat down, his knees almost touched mine, and I had to bite back a whimper.

His blue eyes locked on my face, then dropped to my mouth, my throat, and my chest, where the thin cotton clung to every curve, where my nipples ached so hard I thought I might scream.

The second one dropped into the seat beside me. His thigh pressed against mine. “Are you alone?” He raised a brow.

I didn't answer. My tongue felt thick and useless. The words I'd rehearsed in my mirror, 'yes, please, take me, use me' died somewhere between my brain and my mouth.

The first man leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Are you waiting for someone?” He asked with a predatory smile.

I shook my head. “No,” I breathed, rubbing my thighs together.

I just hope these men are who I have been expecting. It would be a damned bummer if they turned out to be petty thieves.

The Second man smiled. “Are you nervous, baby?”

“She's not nervous,” the first man responded with a frown. “Are you?”

“No.” My voice came out louder than I expected.

The third man hadn't moved from his spot by the far door. But I felt his gaze on my back.

The train hit a curve, and the car swayed. My shoulder bumped against the second man, but he didn't pull away. The first man —

Okay, I think I need a damned name for them.

“I'm Ray,” I said, smiling at them. Ray was the name I chose for this place. After our meeting, I'll have to leave this city for the next. I'm too young, and the world is too vast for me to get stuck in a particular place.

“Collins.”

“Kinsley.”

“Joseph.”

They introduced themselves in the same manner as they got into the car. I nodded with a smile. Knowing their names means I get to think and moan it out loud without using, “first, second, and third man.”

“So….” Collins started. “Why are you out so late, and dressed like this?” His gaze dropped to my chest again, and they lingered for a second too long. “You want something, don't you?”

My nipples tightened. I felt it happen, the skin drawing up, the ache sharpening into something almost painful. I wanted him to touch them. I wanted him to put his mouth on them. I wanted him to hurt them, just a little, just enough to make me gasp.

“Maybe,” I said.

His jaw tightened and the muscle in his temple jumped at once. “Not maybe.”

Kingsley's thigh pressed harder against mine. His hand dropped from the seat back to my shoulder, and his thumb found the strap of my tank top.

I shuddered.

“She's wet,” Kingsley said to Collins as his nostrils flared. “I can smell it.”

My face went hot. Shame and arousal, tangled together so tight I couldn't tell them apart. My cunt clenched, and I had to press my thighs together while forcing back a whimper.

Collins saw that too. His eyes flicked down to where my thighs pressed together, then back up to my face. Something shifted in his expression. Something dark and patient and certain.

“Say it,” he said.

My heart hammered everywhere. In my cunt, in my throat, and in the soles of my feet. I had never been so wet.

“Say what?” My voice cracked on the second word. I was gripping my thighs now, fingers digging into the denim, and I could feel the damp heat between them, the slickness that had soaked through my underwear. No, I wasn't wearing underwear, the jeans were the only barrier, and the seam was pressed right against my clit.

“What do you want?” Collins leaned closer. His face was inches from mine now. “I want to hear it.”

Kingsley's hand slid down from my shoulder and over my collarbone. The rough pad of his thumb found the hollow of my throat.

“Tell him,” he said against my ear. His breath was hot and smelled like whiskey. “Or we're getting off at the next stop.”

They wouldn't. I knew they wouldn't, but the threat worked anyway. The thought of them leaving made me give in to them.

“I want—” I started and stopped. My throat moved against Kingsley's thumb. "I want you to take me."