Having been riding this train for years, Peter rode this commuter train every day, twice a day to and from work home. In all the years, never has he ever seen the train as crowded. With nowhere to put them, the train was so crowded that there were still people standing on the platform left behind.
If this train crashed, he was protected by and surrounded by so many human airbags. The last train home before they shut down the rail line for passenger and employee safety, there was a raging blizzard going on outside.
Another train moving down the tracks ahead of them, the slow snowplow train in the way of an ice cutting ship carefully moving in the South Pole breaking up the ice, slowly cleared the tracks ahead of them only as fast as the tracks were covered with ice and snow again.
A bumpy ride, on again and off again, the lights continually extinguished every time the train stopped and, every time the train stopped, the women would gasp and let out a little scream as if they were riding a dangerous ride at the amusement park. Seemingly as if he was the only man mistakenly put on the wrong train during the occupation Nazi Germany during World War II, there were so very many women on this train.
In the way that his body was in close contact and touching other bodies, with women wearing less clothes instead of heavy, winter coats, he only wished this was the summer and not the winter. Only how could there be a snowstorm, a blizzard in the summer? Then he thought of a catastrophe or a terrorist threat that would force businesses to close and everyone to flee the city.
Maybe in the way that it daily is in Japan, overcrowded subway and commuter trains was something routine in his immediate future. With so many asses to see, there were small asses, big asses, fat asses, flat asses, round asses, tear drop asses, apple asses, ghetto booty asses, shapely asses, tight asses, narrow asses, skinny asses, thick asses, voluptuous asses, average asses, BBW asses, bubble asses, chubby asses, plump asses, and asses galore.
He allowed his experienced eye to scan the crowd of women to find the perfect ass and the most receptive victim. Unable to help himself, always his eyes went to the most beautiful women first, typically a blonde with big tits and a shapely ass. Off in the far distance, way down at the other end of the car, he spied his sexual match, a tall, sexy, blonde. Only with the mass of female humanity blocking his way, how would he even get there?
With not even room to hold his hands up, he inched his way while allowing his horny hands to touch, to feel, and to wander across the sexy asses of women. As if he was in a new car lot feeling fenders, most women, while moving their ass out of the reach of his horny hands, were happy to be rid of him and to allow him to squeeze by them.
At last, standing directly behind his chosen victim, he positioned himself behind her, his preferred position with women. With his cock firmly resting between her bulbous ass cheeks, indeed, a utopian paradise for his hardening cock, this was his true definition of nirvana.
Not ever on a train nearly this crowded, he felt as if he was prowling the grounds of a crowded carnival, a packed concert, or a busy parade route where available women and their asses were abundant for him to rub and bump against.
Moreover with mostly men left behind on the platform, the men were gentlemen enough to allow the women to board first. Being that this stop was the end of the line, he got on the empty car going in the opposite direction across the way and rode it back around.
When the doors opened, he was already standing on the train. Everywhere he looked, as if he was Superman blessed with X-Ray vision, he imagined he saw women standing all around him wearing just their panties.
White, yellow, pink, green, blue, purple, and black, he loved panties, especially bikini panties that covered firm, round, shapely asses. The only thing he loved more than asses covered in bikini panties were naked asses. With some men breast men and other men leg men, Peter was an ass man. Even the license plate on his car, in disgust of his uptight, easily, sexually offended wife, proclaimed his proclivity for that one specific body part, ASS MAN.
Perhaps the reason why his wife never rides in his car is because of his personalized license plate. Whenever they go anywhere, she drives him in her car. He wished there was an Olympic event and a gold medal awarded for the most perfect ass in the world. He wished there was a Miss America contest not for beauty but for asses. If there was a gold medal awarded or a beauty contest crowned for asses, the woman standing in front of him would be a gold medal, diamond crowned winner.
As if her ass was a ripe, piece of fruit, watching the movement of her hips in slow motion, every time the train moved her ass moved too. Getting his body into the rhythm of her movement, as if he was a dirty dancing, salsa dancer, back and forth and back and forth, she lightly bumped him as if they were gently, slowly having anal sex for the first time. In and out she bumped him and back and forth he lightly humped her to the timing of her bumping him and him humping her again and again.
Such a delicate movement, a mastery of timing, so wanting to put his hands on her hips, he wanted to hump her harder and deeper. With him having much more to gain, a once in a lifetime opportunity, what did he have to lose? Sandwiched by two, very large and tall, Sumo type, wrestling woman with jumbo asses, and with another very large woman standing behind him with a BBW ass, as if standing in a stall surrounded by three barrels, the view of him was blocked by their enormous asses.
Eclipsed by three, giant full moons, no one could see what he was about to do with his horny hands. Unable to free her hands to hang on to the strap, to the rail, or to the pole, she was sardined in this crowd of feminine humanity.
Based from his extensive lewd and lascivious, inappropriate, sexual experiences, the ones that he had the most success with in touching and feeling were the women who only wore panties.
As if they were asking to be felt up and begging him to touch their asses, such whores and sluts, women who only wore panties, especially within the crowded confines of a passenger train car, were asking for trouble. They should tar and feather the gay man who invented pantyhose and ban him from residing in the United States of America. The only people allowed to wear pantyhose should be professional football players and armed robbers. Yet, whoever this woman standing before him was, she was wearing his preferred attire beneath her thin dress.
She was wearing panties. She was not just wearing panties, she was wearing bikini panties and he so loved bikini panties. Just by the feel of her naked, round, uplifted, ass cheeks, his fingertips were never wrong in discerning bikini panties. So round and so firm, yet soft in the way of the desired firmness of a memory foam mattress, she had the most perfect and perfectly shaped ass. She must have been a gymnast, a figure skater, or a champion diver, swimmer, or track star, to have such an ass.
Should someone want a better ass and should someone be in need of ass implants, plastic surgeons should pay her to mold her ass. With just barely enough room for him to slide his arm and hand down, when he squatted just a little, he could feel the hem of her short dress.
Ah, hidden from sight because of her dress surrounded by big asses, as if her hem was the secret combination to a safe containing valuables, the hem of her dress was the key to her panties. Knowing what he was about to do, holding her hem between his thumb and index finger, just the touch of her hem sent shivers through his spine.
Ever so slowly and ever so carefully, he lifted the hem of her dress as if he was lifting a shroud from a priceless piece of artwork and loosely tucked it in the top of his pants. As far as he was concerned, her beautiful ass was a beautiful work of art that he sexually treasured.
God must have smiled at the angels when he created her ass. Going slow enough for her not to feel him lifting her dress, with him not wanting to prematurely reveal his ass playing plan to her, this part of his sexual molestation was critical.
Once he reached this point, make or break, depending upon her reaction, the rest would be easy or impossibly difficult. Slow but surely and inch by subtle inch, he raised the light material of her dress until, when he looked down, he could clearly see her light blue, bikini panty clad ass exposed to his horny eyes. He moved the material of her dress out of the way and to the side of him while holding her upraised dress in place by the tightness of their bodies glued so closely together, now her blue, bikini panties were on display for his horny eyes to see.
Free to lift her dress undetected by anyone, especially by the sexy woman standing in front of him, he did his panty work as if he was a professional safecracker or a highly successful jewel thief. Glad that she was wearing a dress when most women wore pants on such a cold, wintry day, most certainly he was at the right place at the right time. Could this be the day that he finally realizes his sexual fantasy to have anal sex with a woman on a train?
In the way that some people are proud members of the Mile High Club after having sex on a plane, he was hoping to be a proud anal member of the Laying Down Some Track Club.
Seemingly unfazed, even unnoticed, by the sexual attention that he was paying her ass, he wondered, if she felt his fingers tracing her panty line through the thin material of her dress. He wondered if she perceived a chill and knew that he had lifted up her dress to her waist. Did she know that his horny hand was ever so lightly feeling her panty and her panty clad ass?
With everyone having left work early because of the blizzard, unless she was oblivious or high from having a couple of cocktails at lunch, how could she not know that he was feeling her ass through her panty? One slow finger at a time, as if he was exploring forbidden territory and certainly he was by uninvitingly exploring the panty clad ass of a stranger. Surely, unless she was paralyzed below the waist, how could she not know he was touching her, feeling her, and groping her?