Disclaimer: This piece of crap is based on SMeyer's repressed libido and is beta'ed by a good, good friend of mine who will remain unnamed for the moment. Thank you, darling.


Prelude Part I


I'm not what most people would call a horny girl.

I've only had sex with my boyfriend, and I have had only one in my entire life. I've never gone out of my way to look for sex. I do look at porn, but only out of boredom, and the times I actually masturbate are few and far between. However, during my first year in college, I did something that few girls would think could actually happen, and even fewer girls would've imagined doing.

It was during summer after my freshman year at Evergreen State College in Tacoma. My father, police chief of rainy Forks, deemed it absolutely necessary for me to take up Law, Justice or Public Policy so I could be a productive member of society. Yeah, go Geoducks! I'd just split up with my first (and only) boyfriend and there was no one, not one, who'd piqued my interest. .

One Monday morning, Rosalie Hale, the greatest bitch in the entire universe who was unfortunately also my roommate, came home indignant. Abso-fucking-lutely furious. She told me that her boyfriend got into a fight at the Tukwila station on their way back from Seattle because some fucker had the gall to feel her up, and then blamed the rocking motion of the train. Of course, boyfriend #567, a jock named Emmett, wouldn't stand for it. The men got into a fistfight that ended up with all three of them being sent to the security office for a lengthy discussion. She was relating the entire occurrence, blow-by-blow, about how the two men grunted and beat each other to a pulp (which I suspect turned her on) but at the mention of Emmett's bulging muscles for the nth time, I zoned out.

It was only later when I started thinking about it that a strange idea crept into my head. I don't know why, but somehow the idea of being groped in a train resonated with me. I imagined what it would be like to be felt up by a complete stranger in a carriage full of people. A rough hand on the curve of my ass, running inside my thigh... I thought, I can wear a skirt over one of those knitted pants with buttcheek holes. I was wet before I knew it. The next day, I kept imagining some guy's hand on my ass, on my breasts, between my legs. I fidgeted in class, rubbing my legs together, trying in vain to relieve the tension. As soon as I got back to the dorm, I went online to look for train grope videos and pictures. Most of them were from Japan for some weird reason (they all looked staged, but I digress.) I masturbated myself into a frenzy. I remembered coming three times that night and not getting any work done. But it did the trick and I didn't think of it again until several weeks later.

It was the furthest thing on my mind.

It was on a Friday when I found myself on the commuter train, alone, on my way to Seattle for a night out with some friends. I rarely go out, as I wasn't the kind of girl who goes hunting for fresh meat. Most of the time, I didn't have to. I wasn't as pretty as Rosalie but boys did find me somewhat attractive. I've been out on dates, not as many as Rosalie, and some of these gentlemen have actually tried to get into my pants. It's only because I didn't like them enough, or wasn't turned on in anyway, or fucking frigid (as one of them had spat at me,) that I and my bits remained dry throughout the school year. Anyway, I was on the commuter train, and there were quite a lot of people as it was a Friday evening. The crush of bodies pressed against me brought Rosalie's story to my mind, and I immediately found myself getting wet. The idea seemed so hot and exciting and I couldn't stop myself. I imagined someone's hand wandering all over my body, and I almost wished that someone WOULD do it. No one did, and I spent the entire journey horny as hell. I got off in King St. Station in Seattle and masturbated inside the train station lavatory.

From that time, I started considering doing it seriously - provoking someone into groping me. Over the next few weeks, I found myself thinking idly of doing it until I was actually planning the entire thing. I surprised even myself, but by then curiosity and lust and the long dry spell had gotten the better of me.

I started wearing tight jeans and tops with deep cleavages, squeezed my smallish breasts into wonder bras, curled my lashes and smeared my lips in red. I practiced a come-hither look inside the privacy of the bathroom, pranced around in fuck me heels and planned and plotted my adventures. In the past, I've always made it a point to cover myself up when I traveled by train, bus and otherwise. I grew up in Forks, with only a staid, square father to raise me and besides, it was always raining in Forks. Always wet and cold and clammy.

I started taking the Seattle-Tacoma train on Friday evenings, during rush hours when the trains would be most jam packed. But I found that no matter how sluttily I dressed, no one would do it. It only made me very frustrated. And very, very horny. Masturbating didn't do it for me anymore, even if I did it in different train stations. The thought of asking one of my friends to grope me weirded me out. Yeah, go figure.

Then, it happened. Summer was nearly over and I was on my way back from Seattle where I'd taken an internship at one of the police stations. I'd decided at the beginning of summer that I wasn't staying in Forks and declared to Charlie that I needed experience if I was to be an effective law enforcer some day. Charlie didn't like it but his instincts warred with the pride that his little girl was going to uphold his legacy so she might as well start early. Eventually, pride won.

I'd taken the 7PM train from Seattle to Tacoma that day.

Now, I'm a small girl, almost 5'4" in heels so all I could see in a crowded train were the backs and chests of people pressing in around me. There wasn't enough room for me to move my arms, or my legs, or even to get myself into a comfortable standing position. All around me I could smell the sweat of people, mostly men, tired from their day's work. I realized most of them seemed to be going to Auburn. Coal miners, from the looks of them. Tall, muscular men. Rough. They weren't exactly what I'd call smooth and charming. Still, I didn't find them repulsive and for some reason, the thought of one of them, or even two, groping me turned me on. I was dressed in one of my more adventurous outfits – clunky Docs, short skirt over torn leggings (with two big holes over my ass and a slit in front, just as I wanted). The ensemble was uncomfortable, and cold, too, as I'd worn no panties but it made a point. Some of the men eyed me like candy, almost like they could see under my skirt and smell my pussy. I knew then that it was only a matter of time before someone's hand started exploring my body.

Nothing happened at first, and the train pulled into the next stop after I got in. A fresh crush of people pushed their way into the train and we were all crammed inside the carriage like packed sardines. The train started again, a singsong voice announcing the next station and the lights dimmed. I was starting to wonder whether all my efforts at sluttiness were never going to be worth it all, when I felt it. A hand on my ass. The man was going about it nonchalantly, brushing his hand against my ass every time the train jostled. The way he did it couldn't disguise the fact that he was touching me on purpose. My heart started to beat faster, and I could feel myself starting to get wet.

I tried to turn my head to see how the guy looked, but it was too cramped and I couldn't turn around completely to get a good look. My left side was pressed almost flat against the wall of the train. He was right behind me, facing the same direction as I was, his wandering left hand well hidden from other commuters. The man in front and on my right side had both their backs turned on us so it was like I was in a cocoon on my own, surrounded by men. One of them with a wandering hand. I could smell somewhat expensive aftershave, but then that could have been from any of the other people on the train. The hand on my ass was a little rough, so that suggested that he was not a stranger to manual labor. We went on that way for a few minutes. The train was slow-going, what with it being packed so full of people. I felt more daring now, as the lust started to course through my veins. I pressed my ass against his hand, and reached down behind me to pull him closer against me.

As if it mattered.

With so many people on the train, we were as close as two people could possibly be and not be on top of each other. He was wearing slacks and they felt surprisingly unwrinkled. He didn't feel like he was one of the miners but I didn't care. He was obviously male, and I was willing to fuck anyone with a penis at that point. My hand had brushed the front of his pants and I'd felt his cock twitch against the material slightly. He was tall, too tall for me, and as though he could read my mind, I felt him bend a knee to slouch a little, bringing his cock closer to my ass. I felt him squeeze my ass firmly, and then he leaned his face close to my ear, his stubble touching my cheek, and whispered, "You like it?"

And damn if his voice didn't make my pussy drip. Damn if his stubble, hard and prickly, didn't make me shiver.

He didn't sound like a miner at all but what did I know? I thought he sounded like a singer, like he was used to making his words loud and clear. I closed my eyes, just focusing on the sensation of his hands on my ass. I didn't want to look at him, afraid that if I looked at his face then I might just get turned off and the fantasy would ruin itself. So I focused on the sensations and let him and my imagination do the work.

I murmured a soft but intelligible "Mmmmmm." It was the most I could do without letting it turn into an outright whimper.

I pressed myself harder against him. I could feel his cock poking at me through the soft material of his pants. His hand slipped under my short skirt and he sucked in a surprised breath when he encountered skin. He began kneading my ass, not just stroking it, but rolling it about, teasing the soft, pliant flesh. He was crushing it in his hand, squeezing it hard enough that I wondered if it would leave a mark. I breathed in and out as unobtrusively as I could. He was getting excited as well, his breathing getting ragged. Then he whispered. He told me, murmuring in tones so low I had to strain to hear it, about how nastily sexy I was, how soft my ass was, and what a dirty and horny girl I was. Normally I would have slapped anyone who tried to say that to me, but fuck if it didn't turn me on all the more. He slid his hand between my legs, and groaned, motherfucker, as he found that his fingers found my dripping, freshly-shaven pussy. I tried to spread my legs as wide as the limited space could allow but there was just no doing it. I clutched at the strap of my sling bag, adjusting it strategically over his hand.

"I bet you taste delicious," he said and my bits tingled as I imagined him eating me, his teeth nipping my clit, sucking me, his tongue plunging inside my wet, hairless pussy.

He started running his finger up and down my slit, tracing the line of it slowly, applying enough pressure to feel good but not enough to penetrate me. God, he was such a tease. He sure knew what he was doing. I couldn't help but gasp when he slid his finger inside though. His finger was long, a little rough and the friction was enough to drive me insane. He started sliding it in and out slowly but as deep as it would go. I almost clutched at the man's back in front of me. I didn't know how I managed to stop myself from moaning out load. He pumped his finger in and out, in and out, faster and faster. I was thankful that the train masked the wet slurping sounds I'm sure that my dripping pussy was making. It was stroking almost the entire insides of my pussy, sliding against my clit, his knuckle brushing up against the ridge of my opening.

It was fantastic, fan-fucking-tastic. His finger was wet and slippery from my juices. He would plunge it inside and then wiggle it around a bit, trying to work it as deep as it would go, trying to touch everything inside me, touching me in ways no one ever had before. Then he would pull it out, drag it against my clit, and then slide it in again. I couldn't take it anymore. I started to moan softly, my breath coming out from my mouth in quick succession. I was leaning backwards on him for support. My legs were trembling from the pleasure. Had he pulled away, I would have collapsed onto the floor. He was moaning softly into my ear. And it was too much, just too much so that I knew, as well as he did, that we had to stop. If not, we'd have fucked each other right then and there. He withdrew his fingers quietly and I felt my entire body rebel, my insides crying out for his touch. It didn't take him long. It was as if he couldn't take his hands off me. His left crept inside my shirt this time and for once, I'm glad that I'd worn something loose enough to disguise a hand groping underneath. He reached inside my shirt and into my bra. He took my left nipple in between two fingers and rolled it around, teasing it to delicate hardness. He pinched it softly, tweaking it, and then kneading the whole of my left breast in his hand.

Then without warning, he plunged his hand into my skirt and my leggings under it, going straight for my pussy. He started finger-fucking me in earnest, just in and out, in and out, fast and hard. His hand rubbed my clit hard, while it pistoned in and out of my tight, wet, hot pussy and it was insane, so fucking insane. Pleasure, hot and cold, raced all over my body. I didn't know where to concentrate, whether on his long finger fucking me, his breaths, ragged and crazy in my ear or the fact that I'm about to cum in a train full of people. I pressed my ass against his hard cock, grinding it. He pushed against me and I knew he must be dying to ram it inside me. And I wanted him, motherfuckinggod, yes, I wanted him.

We didn't have to wait long before we both got our wishes.


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Useless trivia: a geoduck is a very large clam.