I ran on the machine in the direction of the subway, in my head again completed the previous meeting, shaking hands, exchanging light kisses on the cheek, half hug with a beautiful, tall and slender man, whose temples were already gleaming gray. I thought about how unusually pure his eyes are gray and how soft and tender his lips are. Despite the fact that the meeting was working, the farewell led me to very different thoughts. I was pleased with his attention to myself, and I felt beautiful and desirable. My legs carried me to the entrance to the subway, my hand automatically found a travel card, and now I’m going down the escalator, still bathed in fresh pleasant sensations.

The number of people at the station reminded that the rush hour was already in full swing. I was distracted from my thoughts, squeezing myself to the place where the car door should appear. Usually I tried to avoid traveling at such a time, but today my brain seems to have turned off. I tried not to pay attention to the crowd around, disconnecting from the sounds and smells, as far as possible. I was doused with a stream of cold air with this special aroma of the metro, a train arrived at the station. People came out, then a human stream brought me into the car. There was no question of going through and at least getting up above the seats. I had to be content with the opportunity to reach the corner of the handrail, although there was no need to hold, the crowd reliably fixed my body among dozens of people who were tired after the work day and did not notice anything.

How could I try to move away from the body dance around me and stand up more reliably, trying not to step on anyone’s feet. Then she closed her eyes and tried to return to her pleasant thoughts. It seems that I even had a silly contented smile on my face. The carriage was quite loose, and from time to time I felt touches from all sides, but did not pay any attention to them. I didn’t care what happened around until I felt some kind of light touch of someone’s body from behind. Who knows why, maybe from my high spirits, I wanted to focus on him. The touch continued, clearly coinciding with the rhythm of the composition, which is not surprising in principle. Tired people did not try to resist the train, relaxing and as if swaying on the waves.

Just like many, I practically hung on the handrail, barely holding it with one hand, with my head on my shoulder. But the barely perceptible touches of the body of the person standing behind me made me alert. Of course, it was curious to see who was behind me there, but I suddenly felt so sleepy, the waves lulled my body, and it was completely lazy to open my eyes, much less turn in such a crowd. So I just relaxed, continuing to sway with the car. Nevertheless, it seemed to me that the one behind me was growing bolder and bolder behind me, with each passing carriage movement. He practically stuck his body to my buttocks, but for some reason I did not move away. I really wanted to turn around, but it was scary to see someone “wrong” there. The train began to slow down before the next station, and I did not resist, fully leaning on the one who was behind me. Our bodies closed for a moment, and it even seemed to me that I felt his breath on my neck. But then the train stopped, forcing my body to sharply break away from him. I had no doubt that the back at least a man. But his appearance and age worried me a little.

The doors opened, someone came out, but even more people went down, tamping the crowd even more tightly. I panicked for a moment, but the incoming passengers literally pushed me into it, and I quickly calmed down. The train started, and again our bodies were practically squeezed into each other.I again laid my head on my shoulder, for a moment before noticing, it seems, his hand, with which he was holding onto the handrail just to the right of me. I closed my eyes, having decided that I liked his hand, despite the fact that I didn’t have time to perceive almost anything.

It seemed to me that the train was swaying terribly, or maybe it was I who slightly increased the amplitude of movements, again and again touching it almost with an effort. Who knows, whether it was a game of my imagination, or he, too, joined this game with me. For a split second, our jeans caught seams and went away again, and then again my seam caught, apparently his pants. He took advantage of the next rolling of the car to squeeze me so hard that I felt his tense cock. My head was almost spinning, and I gripped the rail more tightly. My breath had strayed, but I would not open my eyes for anything in the world. The impulses, already obvious and tangible, even if they coincided with the rhythm of the train, came from me and from him, again and again. The world around him was floating somewhere, but the train began to slow down again, and I leaned on him with my whole body almost without constraint. It cost me to hold back a moan when he touched my ear with something, probably on the cheek. I really wanted to turn around and wrap my arms around his neck, feel the warmth of his body, his smell, without opening his eyes. And it was almost all the same who exactly was there, behind me.

People came out, I was afraid to wait for him to step back. But at this station it was still crowded. The brain turned on for a second, recalling that at the next stop a lot of people always come out. I really didn’t want to stop this amazing experience, but I couldn’t imagine what could be done. The fear of parting made me cling to him with some fervor even earlier than it was supposed to be by the laws of physics. It seemed to me that I could feel his hand on my hip, but with the same success it could be the side of a person standing next to me. The hot fog did not pass, our bodies became closer, and the blows to which I began to strive did not cease and even accelerated. I thought that this was becoming noticeable and completely indecent, but I did not even think about stopping. At the time of braking, I pressed into him, and he rubbed against me, clinging to the seams again. I arched my back as far as I could, quite distinctly feeling his firmness between the buttocks. He pressed into my tailbone, I did not move away, even feeling the pain.

The doors opened again, I could barely hold onto the handrail, not having the strength to open my eyes. People flowed out of the door again. Suddenly, I felt someone grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the car. I barely managed to “wake up” to step over to the platform, but the silhouette in front of me, which I had not had time to examine, was already dragging me somewhere. My hand ached from his strong grip, I tried to keep up with and not run into other people, still not fully recovering from my incredible sleep. I only noticed that he was quite tall and strong, in some dark shirt and jeans. Dark blond hair and no chance to look at his face while he was dragging me somewhere. But if I want to see his face, that is the question.

We were at the end of the apron, at an impasse on the side of the escalator to which the main crowd flowed. There was a shop, and no one was there. I was confused, but he suddenly turned and dragged me through the line that reached for the escalator to the other side of the platform. I really did not even have time to look at his face, again almost buried in his back. It seems quite young and not so bad as I was afraid. Heart pounded harder. What happens where he drags me? Maybe worth a scream? But I remembered his touch and again felt dizzy, tightly clutching him and the second hand.

He had already opened some kind of door leading somewhere further into the tunnel along the train. I never even noticed her and did not suspect her existence. In the face smelled strong smells of the metro.He dragged me along some narrow and dimmed corridor, further and further, turned in some turns, so that it even seemed to me that he knows the road for sure. It was empty and scary. Past thundered outgoing composition. He finally ...