Chapter Text
A few months ago, I became a member of society, boarding the crowded train every morning. I’d feel it shake as I made my way to the office every morning.
She was a student up until a few months ago, now, she’s a working adult.
I'm sure I'm not the only graduate who has undergone a complete 180 change after getting a job. To be fair, I never imagined I’d spend my days staring at the computer as a job. The younger me may have been complacent if I were to describe this life to her. However, as the days go by, my current life has become a routine. One I’ve gotten used to, an acknowledged commonplace.
But there are still things I can't ever get used to.
Every morning, I take the train at exactly 7:22 AM. It gets me to work right on time. Normally, it takes about an hour by train followed by a 10-minute walk to arrive at the office from the station. That train that arrives exactly at 7:22 AM is essential for me, because it gets me to the station right on time, not too early nor late.
However, unspoken and unusual things occur on such trains.
A few weeks after I became a working adult was when it happened. Boarding my regular train that morning, I stood by the door of the overpacked cabin as I felt something hit my rear.
(Are you insane-?)
The moment that thought came to my mind, it happened again. It was firmer the second time. It didn’t feel like it was an accidental nudge from a carry-on bag, or some other inanimate object a passenger may have been carrying. It felt like the palm of a hand.
The immediate assumption was that I was being molested, despite knowing that I was too afraid to do anything. Thus, I endured it. I endured it without showing any form of resistance. After noticing my non-existent reaction to the situation I was currently in, the molester proceeded to pat my butt as if to mock my inability to do anything to save myself.
I couldn’t do anything, I was afraid, afraid that if I turned around I’d be noticed by the people around me. It didn’t stop on that day either, from each day forth, I was molested every morning on that very same train I’d take to get to work.
It’s something I’ll never be able to get used to.
I found it strange that no matter the number of trains I board, the pervert would always be right behind me. There was a time I boarded an earlier train, however, my attempt was in vain as I was molested all the same. It wasn’t just a normal molestation case, anyone could've been their victim. However, I was being specifically targeted each morning.
It’s embarrassing to think about, so embarrassing that I couldn’t find it in myself to tell anyone about it. Slowly but surely, the days came and went, turning into weeks then months. What kind of person is this molester exactly, to have gone after me for this extended period of time?
(Why me?)
Having gotten slightly used to this unusual addition to my morning routine, rather than feeling my initial disgust my curiosity grew. It was undoubtedly disgusting at first, it was a despicable immoral act. I resented them, dare I say. However, if something like this were to happen every day, a strange feeling will begin to surface from within you.
At the start, the molester would only touch my buttocks. However, this time, as their hand caressed my rear I felt their hardened member rubbing against me.
On a crowded train where not a single sound was to be made, I bit down on my lip and endured it all. The strange feeling began to overwhelm my mind and my heart began to throb more as I felt the hardened object continue to prod against me. Though I attempted to divert my attention to something else, be it my mobile screen or my surroundings, I couldn’t concentrate at all.
(I wonder what they think of me, to be doing this.)
(I’d turn around to face him, but I can’t move at all.)
The molesting which initially started with gentle caresses, strokes and them pressing themselves up against me from behind gradually escalated day by day. And finally, a hand found its way beneath my skirt and began rubbing my thigh. Though their entire body made me nervous to the point I’d get goosebumps, the hand that was touching me under my knitted skirt felt gentle and smooth.
The hand that groped at my thighs slowly made its way to touch my butt directly, and then it slid up slowly, making its way into my panties. The sensation of being touched over my skirt and now was completely different, to be blunt, I got wet from it. Up until this point I've only gotten a little wet, but at that moment, I may have soiled my panties. This was a stranger, I didn’t know them and we were in a public space. A train, to be precise.
Their other hand I thought to be useless up till this point slid up my side, making its way to nestle over my pelvis and began to gently touch my private area. Holding onto my phone tightly, I struggled to not make a sound. Then, a near-silent sigh was heard right up against my ear causing me to get goosebumps once more.
(The pervert, they were getting excited as well.)
Just thinking about that fact turned me on even more, causing me to further drench my already soiled undergarment. As if I needed reassurance of my own thoughts, their erection felt harder than usual, pressing up against me. I was getting drunk off this immoral feeling of doing such obscene things in a public place.
They were the pervert who enjoyed perverted things. However, wouldn’t that make me an even bigger pervert to have gotten aroused from the wandering hands of said pervert ..? The fingers moving beneath my clothes, they don't feel rough or rugged, they were instead slender and thin. Rubbing over my panties and the protruding bud of my private area. I almost yelled out but managed to cover my mouth with my hand, enduring the stimulation.
Being rubbed by their middle finger, the stimulus sent tingles through my entire body, even reaching my toes. It feels good, it feels so good that my body began trembling. If I could, I would’ve squealed out loud, placing my weight behind me as I’d spread my legs... Just thinking about things I was unable to do right now, I was made to squirm from the hands of a molester while on a crowded train.
As soon as the train arrived at the station, I began walking as if nothing had happened.
I wanted to go to the restroom at the station, however, the sea of people present made me second-guess my decision. Thus, I had no choice but to hurry over to the office and use the restroom there instead.
I realized something, on the train I was leaning my weight back. The molester behind me allowed me to do so. And when we arrived at the station my skirt was fixed for me before I got off the train. I didn’t get to walk off by chance, it was calculated by the molester who knew the exact stop I’d get off at. Lost in my thoughts for a moment, I arrived at the office building but scurried into the restroom without greeting anyone.
In the cubicle, I took off my panties which were far more soiled than I had anticipated. Of course, I hadn’t prepared a spare pair of underwear for work this morning, I hadn’t foreseen this happening. Letting out a sigh, I rolled up some toilet paper and attempted to clean myself.
Their fingers, the sensation still enveloped my mind even now.
(It felt good.)
(It felt good.)
My insides which yearned to be caressed more yearned for those fingers.
Looking over to my watch to check the time, I noted I had some time left. Turning to flush the toilet paper, I began to touch myself in the cubicle of the office restroom.
(A little, just a little.)
Remembering the fingers of the molester, I rubbed the erect bulb of my private area. My nectar overflowed as the finger I was using was making a rather obscene sound. Feeling it, I slipped my finger in as my breath gradually became more ragged. A tinge of shame crept up. It's the molester's fault that I ended up masturbating in the restroom of the office this morning. It’s their fault I was left feeling this empty.
While making these excuses up in my head, I continued to masturbate to my thoughts of the molester.
Just my index wasn’t enough, so I inserted my middle finger into my core which tightened upon its entry. Tightly wrapping around my fingers as I began moving them around while spreading my legs. Feeling my voice about to leak out, I covered my mouth with my left hand as I continued to finger myself. Catching my breath, I pulled out my fingers and began rubbing my clit. It feels good, but it feels lonely to be doing it all alone.
(It’d be better if it wasn’t me touching myself.)
(I wonder if I’ve gotten used to handling this pervert in public while dazed.)
(I wonder if they were handling their hard cock as they pressed up against me.)
(I’d imagine myself getting wetter from the thought of it.)
When I made my way back to the office, Sayo had just arrived.
“Good morning.”
She’s fast at her work and is very polite. It’s why many of our seniors rely on her, including me. Whenever I struggle with something I can’t seem to understand, the first thing I do is ask Sayo. I once made a mistake and was made to work overtime alone for the first time. While typing on my keyboard correcting my own documents in a seemingly empty office, it was Sayo who brought me some food.
She probably didn’t know how much she saved me then by uttering “I can help you.” that night. Even though I was the one who made the mistake, Sayo stayed behind to help me, saying it was just her doing her job. I was so happy then, I almost cried as I hugged Sayo. Repeatedly thanking her for helping me.
We finished the work faster than anticipated, and the next day I gave Sayo some chocolate scones as a sign of my gratitude. When I thanked her, Sayo beamed a smile. I don’t believe I’ve seen her that happy before. With a quick glance towards Sayo, you’d immediately notice her navy blue pantsuit. The company we work at has a free dress code so we weren’t made to dress up formally when it came to work.
However, the mint has always claimed that “ she doesn't know what to wear ," and so as if carrying out a duty, she came to work wearing her pantsuit every day. Though it may seem a bit odd, I found it rather cool that she dressed in a pantsuit every day for work. And here I was trying my best not to dress up too much. Every night before I go to bed, I create my outfit for the following day and so far, Sayo has liked every single one.
I know this since she’s always complimented me by saying things like, "You look good" or "You're cute." Sayo’s sweet, both for saying such things and paying attention to my outfits. I was deep in thought as I made my way over to my desk, then I heard a voice call out to me.
“This is no time to be dazed.”
(Right,)
Turning on my computer, I readied myself to begin working on the mountain of papers that stood on my desk. I fired myself up and began my attempt to overcome it today.
On the surface, Imai Lisa may have appeared to be focused on her work, however, the wet garments clung onto her private place, and it began to feel rather uncomfortable. Feeling it again, she attempts to forget her escapade with the molester on the train this morning.
Recalling the faint sigh as well as the subtle sound of fingers sliding over fabric by her ear. The girl made a mental note to bring an extra pair of panties to work from that morning forth, just in case.
It wasn’t that she no longer felt the need to resist or she began hating the thought of resisting. It was the simple fact that Imai Lisa was unable to do anything in the face of something that leaves her unthinking. If she had resisted then-
“ I don't know if I can do this."
“ What, do you hate it? ”
“ If you hated it, you should’ve put a stop to it. ”
Unable to get her thoughts together, the girl merely let out a sigh.
Slowly but surely, the day gradually passed and I was able to overcome the mountain of documents before the day ended. However, I did note that in response to my smile, Sayo gave me a worried look.
The train you take home from work may be a little crowded, but it’ll definitely not be as crowded as the one you take in the morning. As I stared out the window thoughtlessly, I began to recall the situation I was in this morning.
A molester who I’ve never met face to face. Will this relationship last forever without anyone finding us out? For example, if I were to never take the train again, I’m sure we’d never cross paths again. But to be honest, I don’t know if I’m okay with that.
If the molester were to change their target to someone besides myself, I wouldn’t have to endure any of this anymore.
But for some reason, I didn’t want to think about that happening.
For a moment, I wondered if the molester liked me- but remembering that they were a pervert, I immediately scrapped that possibility.
I wondered if it was me who was actually happy to be touched the way I was, to be molested every morning. However, I’d prefer to believe that I’m not that much of a pervert.
I want them to answer all these questions looming in my mind.
Why are you specifically going for me?
Just how long have you been following me?
Are you satisfied with just being a molester?
Pondering, I gradually allowed these questions to remain as I’d meet my molester tomorrow as always.
Board the train at 7:22 AM.
On the train waiting to arrive at the station, she looks at her phone’s screen. Reading the morning paper as always. A few moments later, a hand was felt touching her rear.
It was just the day before that she entertained the idea of resisting their touch, to say she hated it. But right now, the woman couldn’t move.
Remaining silent, she looked downwards as she felt the familiar hand make its way inside her skirt after stroking her ass. Shifting aside her panties from the side, their fingers found their way to her private area. It was almost like a continuation of yesterday.
On a swaying train where I could hear the sounds of the train announcements paired with people clearing their throats- The most sensitive part of me was being stimulated relentlessly till I got a light orgasm, soiling my panties for today.
Feeling that their finger is lubricated enough from the nectar which poured out of me, they moved their fingers over to my entrance which was overflowing. Getting goosebumps as their hot breath brushed against my ear, I decided to lean back a little as I was being spoiled by the pervert who held onto me tightly.
Actually, I felt a bit nervous. I thought it’d feel foul to be held by someone like you. But, instead, it almost felt like I was being soothed to feel even better than I already was. As I struggled to keep my voice down, letting out only hot sighs, I felt their fingers move over my swollen clit once more only to slide back around making their way into me swiftly.
My hips buckled as my legs wobbled, placing my hand on the door in front of me I attempted to steady myself. It was impossible to not make a sound, not when they added yet another finger inside to add to the pleasure.
A pained moan escaped my lips, the people around me must’ve thought I was strange. But if someone were to ask me if I was okay right now, I would just die on the spot. As I bit down on my lip, enduring the intense stimulation, pleasure began to develop in my numbing mind. And as proof, I’m able to see that my pussy’s gripping onto the fingers of the molester that’s violating me below.
How could my pussy be so happy from the fingers of a pervert, and not my own? The squelching noises, the sheer intensity and heat of me getting fingered, it was almost as if my pussy was rejoicing. I began to feel embarrassed but the fingers that were going at it inside me were merciless.
As I was bent forward slightly and rubbed harder my legs trembled. Looking down further I could see the arm that was wrapped around my waist, the arm of the person behind me. A molester in a navy blue suit. I didn’t have to stand on my own since I was being held firmly against the door, entrusting my body to them more, I soon felt a hard object press against my butt.
I knew right away that it was the molester’s dick that was being pressed up against me and that very person, my molester, began to shift as they angled my hips towards them. Feeling it, I tightened around the finger of the molester inside me.
We both seemed to be enjoying it a lot, both panting heavily as our acts went unnoticed by those around us. The moving fingers inside me began to spread me apart even more and I clenched my teeth in response.
"...!"
His finger rubs against the back wall gently, causing me to climax. Even then, they repeatedly slid their fingers in and out creating audibly wet and vulgar sounds between my legs. I came while enjoying the feeling of being embraced and comforted, then, the train shook even more for a moment as it entered the tunnel.
A perverted devil that held onto me as I lost my balance. Taking a deep breath, I looked up and laid my eyes on the blacked-out window before me. I could see my own reflection in the window, though the surrounding scene was slightly distorted due to my tearing eyes. I could see it, a me that had a sloven expression plastered on her face and Sayo who wore a glamorous expression, standing right behind me.
My heart began racing. Could it be that Sayo’s the molester? Was it Sayo who had been relentlessly going after me for the past months? Was the identity of this supposed devil of a molester really Sayo? All this time, I could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Though she retracted her fingers that were inside me, she held onto me. It may have been that the mint behind me felt my dumbfounded gaze. Because soon, her eyes met mine through our reflection in the door’s window.
As I continued to watch as Sayo froze up, a surprised expression replacing her previous face. A sudden bright wash of blue spread over the black of the window. The train had exited the tunnel.
She retracted her arms from around my waist, straightening my skirt and leaving me be as always. We’re arriving at the station, I knew it as this was what had always happened before we arrived.
However, as I got off the train to turn around, Sayo wasn’t behind me. Despite that, I walked ahead faster than I normally would, I couldn’t believe what I had seen.
Was she really Sayo?
Could it have just coincidentally been Sayo behind me this time?
It’s the first time I’ve seen Sayo with such a heated, sexy expression… along with her surprised expression and her usual actions towards me. After all, it’s almost impossible for it to always be a different molester coming after me, everyone has a different route-
She has had to be Sayo after all.
What happened to her?
The more I thought about everything, the messier it all became and my thoughts gradually came to a halt. Without considering the fact that Sayo was the one who had been molesting me, I wonder what face I should make when I see her later this morning.