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I was tightly surrounded on the subway train by four young toughs, and I had a cock up my heretofore heterosexual ass. How could this have happened to me?
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon and my wife, Florence, and I had taken a taxi downtown to Lacey’s Department Store. We needed a new bedspread as the old one was getting pretty threadbare.
We went up to the bedding department on the seventh floor, and it was appalling. They had nothing. Years ago Lacey’s had been a wonderful store. You could find anything there, but no more. Coarse artificial fabrics, ugly colors, shoddy workmanship. Everything was badly manufactured and very expensive. We wandered up and down the counters looking and shaking our heads. Where would we ever find what we were looking for? If this was what Lacey’s was carrying, no one was even making anything we would want to buy.
We decided to go home, but when we got out on the street, it was absolutely mobbed. We had not been aware that today was the Latin Day Parade, and many blocks were closed off for street fairs. On many of the side streets, there were carts peddling delicacies from all the different Latin countries.
We wandered through a couple of blocks, looking at the exotic merchandise. Maybe we would find a bedspread, but no such luck. At one stand we had some delicious Mexican tacos.
We walked back to the Avenue to find a cab, but forget it. The roadways were bumper-to-bumper traffic. Even if we could have found a cab, it would have taken us hours to get home, and cost us a bundle, with the meter ticking away as the vehicle idled in heavy traffic.
“What are we going to do, Arthur?” Florence asked me.
“We’ll have to take the metro,” I answered her. The metro was, of course, the subway. We had spent our honeymoon in Paris, and I was in love with all things Parisian. And so with a slight Gallic pretentiousness, I had been referring to the subway as the metro for years. In Paris they, of course, called the subway the metro.
In a hundred years Florence would never have thought to take the subway. She was a taxi person. No matter how much more a taxi cost, she hated being underground, and never traveled that way. But now we had no choice. If we wanted to get home, we would have to take the subway. Even a bus was out of the question with this jam-up. We’d get home tomorrow morning.
We found an entrance right next to Lacey’s and went down the stairs. I bought a card at the booth, and we went through the turnstiles. The platform was so packed with people, you couldn’t even move.
“There must be something wrong,” I said. “It looks like there hasn’t been a train in a half hour.”
“It’s so crowded,” Florence complained. “This is awful.”
We tried to work our way down the platform. It was a tight squeeze. “It’s the Latin Day Parade,” I said, noticing the people around us. It was a very Caribbean crowd. I felt as if I could have been in Havana or San Juan. Everybody was very lively and festive. We continued to move down the platform and suddenly we came to a halt. There were four men absolutely blocking the platform, from one side to the other, and they didn’t seem very willing to move.
“Excuse me,” I said. “You’re blocking the whole damned platform. We’d like to get through.”
“You hear this guy?” said one of them to the others. “He say we are blocking the whole damned platform. He would like to get through.” He was imitating me. Making fun of me.
“You’re very rude,” I said, shoving him, trying to get by.
“Oh. We are rude,” he announced to the others, shoving me back. “He say we are very rude.” He held his position firmly and refused to let us pass. Suddenly I heard the sound of a train coming into the station. Thank goodness. Now I would get away from these guys. I was starting to feel a little threatened. I don’t think Florence even realized what was going on, that we were in a dangerous situation.
The sound grew tremendously loud, and you couldn’t hear words anymore. The train pulled into the station and the doors opened. I started to guide Florence toward the open doors, but suddenly I felt as if I were being swept off my feet. I couldn’t control my own movements. The four men had closed around me and we moved into the train as a group. I felt their hands supporting me, as my feet flip-flopped around not gaining much traction.
I was standing in the middle of the car, packed like a sardine. These four guys around me, one on each side, and hundreds of people around them. I didn’t even have a pole to hold on to, but I didn’t really need one. There was no way I could fall. There was no way I could move an inch. And where the hell was Florence? We had gotten separated, and she was nowhere around. I was worried she hadn’t gotten on the train, I wanted to try to locate her, but I couldn’t move a muscle. The train pulled out of the station and the acceleration forced me back against the man behind me. (One of the four.)
The guy who had been imitating me was standing directly in front of me, facing me. I looked up at his face and he gave me a scary smile.
“How you doin’?” he asked me.
“Fine,” I said nervously.
“Wha’s yo’ name?”
“Look here,” I started to protest.
“Wha’s yo’ name?” he insisted.
“Arthur,” I said. I should have lied. I should have said Edgar or something, but I was nervous now, and not thinking too clearly.
“My name is Pablo,” he said. “Pleased to meet you there, Arthur. This is a real pleasure,” his tongue dragged on the word pleasure.
“Nice to meet you,” I answered, smiling tightly, not knowing what he had on his mind. Pablo was around forty with a black moustache and beard. He had a red bandanna wrapped around his head, and a black and gray ponytail hung down from it. He was the oldest of the four. He wore a blue cotton shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and I could see his body was hairy also.
“This here is Juanito,” he nodded toward the fellow on my left, who was also tall, but thinner. He also had a black moustache and beard, but his jet-black hair was cut short. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and I could see the muscles bulging in his strong arms. I didn’t want any trouble with him. I didn’t want any trouble with any of these guys.
“Hello, Juanito,” I said, smiling at him nervously.
“Hola, Papito.” He grinned at me. Juanito was good-looking.
“And this here is Miguelito,” said Pablo, nodding toward the guy to my right. Miguelito was the youngest and the smallest of them. He was short and skinny, but wiry looking. I didn’t doubt that he was also very fast and very strong.
“Miguelito,” I nodded to my right.
“Hola, Papito,” he said, and gave me a wicked toothy smile.
“That tall guy behind you is mi amigo, Angel,” said Pablo. I twisted my head around and studied Angel for a second. He was very lean looking and very mean looking. His dark eyes suggested cruelty and danger. I didn’t doubt for a second that he could be a drug dealer or something. Any of them could have been. My neck was starting to hurt, so I faced front again and looked at Pablo. This certainly was a strange situation. How had I gotten into this predicament? In the middle of a subway car, surrounded by the four of them. Was it a coincidence or had they engineered it?
Suddenly, I heard a voice calling from way down the car, “Arthur! Arthur!” It was Florence. She was on the train, (thank goodness,) and she had found me, but there was no way she could have gotten to me. I smiled at her, and wanted to wave to her, but my arms were pinned to my sides in the crush. She remained where she was imprisoned and smiled back at me.
Then I felt something strange behind me. Down low. A pulling. Someone was pulling on the seat of my pants. And then I felt something else. I didn’t know quite what it was. I could swear someone was cutting down the seat of my pants with a knife. But that was crazy. But then I thought I felt the touch of metal on my butt cheek. And was I feeling a draft? A little cold air on my ass? But that was too crazy. What was happening?
I looked up into Pablo’s face and he seemed to be laughing. “My friend, Angel, behind you. He’s one crazy guy.” I twisted my head around in panic. It was true. Angel had slit my good slacks with a sharp knife. Bastard! I had spent a lot of money for those slacks. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t dare. The man had a knife. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t budge an inch. I was in trouble
Suddenly I felt fingers feeding through the slit and pressing into the crack between my buttcheeks. He had slit my jockey shorts as well. I could feel his hot blunt fingers on my skin. I wanted to grab his arm and pull it away from me, but I couldn’t move my own arms. Why had he destroyed my beautiful pants? Meanness. That was it.
His fingers started moving further into my crack. The tips were caressing my butthole. My God. This was insane. One of the fingers moved through the muscle and dug into my asshole. Good lord. He was finger raping me. I wanted to scream, but this was just too embarrassing. There I was in the middle of a crowded subway car with a guy’s finger in my asshole. He was digging it around, right and left, up and down, right and left, up and down. In and out. In and out.
“You like that, Papito?” asked Pablo.
“No,” I protested. “Make him stop it. Make him take it out.”
“Oh, he gonna take it out real soon,” Pablo assured me.
Finally the finger did come out, but then I felt some movement against my butt. Something was going on. Was Angel pulling down his zipper? Pulling down his zipper and twisting around. By this time I had a pretty good idea what was happening. Angel had pulled down his zipper and was digging around in his pants to pull out his hard cock. I could feel his body move away from mine, only below the waist, and then I felt the warm blunt head of a large penis feeding through the slit in my pants and my underpants. I felt it going between my cheeks, guided by Angel’s fingers, and then the tip of it was pressed against my opening. Now his hips moved forward, and he was forcing it in me, and it hurt like hell. He just kept pushing and pushing, and my damned asshole was starting to spread around his dick. “Ooowww. Ooowww,” I cried silently. The damned thing just kept moving in, until finally I felt his zipper scratching my asscheeks. Angel was raping me. Angel was fucking me. This couldn’t be happening.
There were tears pouring down my cheeks, but Pablo, Juanito, and Miguelito were smiling broadly in satisfaction. I couldn’t see Angel’s face, but he must have been beaming as he started to hunch into my ass. What a strange feeling. A big dick moving back and forth in my asshole. The pain was going away a little.
The train sped down the tracks toward the next station, and the car rocked back and forth. Under normal circumstances I would have lost my footing and fallen, but I was held in place on all four sides, and when my body was thrown backwards or forwards, I was either slamming my ass down on Angel’s steely rod, or lifting off of it for a second, giving him pleasure either way.
Suddenly the lights went off in the car. That happens sometimes, for a minute or two. In the dark I felt hot lips pressing down on my own, and a large meaty tongue digging into my mouth. I was really surprised. Pablo was giving me a deep juicy kiss. How disgusting! Disgusting, but somehow sexy. Sexy and stimulating. My cock was hardening. I started to suck down upon his tongue, and found my cock was getting stiffer and stiffer. Now I could feel his long hard dick pressing against my front, and I became conscious of the two erections, one on my right, and one on my left, that were pressing into my sides, rubbing against me. Juanito and Miguelito. I got so excited, I almost came in my shorts.
I closed my ass around Angel’s dick, as tightly as I could and started to jack his cock inside my body. I greedily sucked on Pablo’s tongue, and-the lights came back on and our faces separated in a flash, but I could still feel Angel in my gut. He was starting to pound furiously. Or as furiously as he could in such little space. And then I felt hot liquid gushing up into my body. It was Angel’s nectar. My hole tried to suck out his juices. When he and I had both caught our breath, and I thought it was all over, Pablo said to me “Excuse me, Papito. We don’ wanna be rude like you said, but we gotta move around a little. You just stand where you is.”
I stood firmly in place while the circle slowly pushed against the crowds and moved around me. Now Juanito was behind me, and Angel was on my right. I was facing little skinny Miguelito, and Pablo was on my left. I felt more silent fumbling below waist level, and knew that Juanito was pulling down his zipper and digging out his dick.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, I felt another hot throbbing knob dig through my torn clothes, and head towards my rectum. My rectum was wet now. Wet with Angel’s hot cum, so Juanito’s cock entered me much more easily than Angel’s had.
“You like a little better now?” asked Pablo from my left.
“Si,” I admitted. Yes.
Pablo laughed a little and whispered to the others, “He like hot Spanish cock.”
The others started giggling. “Si, si. He like Spanish cock.” I was afraid someone else would hear them, but the train was so noisy, I guess I didn’t have anything to worry about. Tall, skinny Juanito started seriously digging his cock into my hole. It wasn’t just to humiliate me anymore. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to get his rocks off in my clutching channel. His dick was a little longer than Angel’s but not quite as wide, so it was a comfortable fuck and I was enjoying it. They could see I was enjoying it. Miguelito, in front of me, drew down my zipper and dug his hand inside. He closed it around my stiff member and began to stroke. It was heavenly. Someone jacking my dick while someone plowed my ass. Heavenly.
“Ay, si. Si,” I groaned, lapsing into high school Spanish. A lady whom I had noticed first standing behind Pablo, and who was now standing just behind Miguelito looked at me strangely. She was a middle-aged Latina. She had heard me, and she clearly understood Spanish. I quickly looked away from her and tried to concentrate on Juanito’s fleshpole digging in and out of my ass. My rectum started to actively participate in the assault. It was petting and stroking the stiff hard instrument with real affection. I wished it didn’t ever have to end, but I could feel Juanito’s pelvis go into a series of determined short shoves, and more hot liquid started jetting into my thirsty hole. Juanito pulled his cock out and my hole closed in upon itself squirting some of the juice down my leg and staining my shredded pants.
Halfway down toward the floor, I felt Juanito’s big palm slapping my buttcheeks. Then I felt him stuff himself back through his zipper, and I think I even heard the zipper zipping up. Miguelito removed his soft hand from my penis, which was protruding through my own zipper. I could feel the metal edges scratching against my hard pole.
“We gonna do another ring around the rosy,” whispered Pablo into my left ear. “Now you just stand where you is.” I nodded. Once again the circle shifted around me.
Dangerous Angel who had slit my trousers and stolen my virginity was now standing eye to eye with me. I somehow knew that one wrong move and I would feel his knife in my gut. Little Miguelito was now on my left, and tall Juanito was on my right, having just emptied his balljuice into my asscanal. I looked at him. He looked contented.
Then I felt Pablo’s bristly moustache and beard at the back of my neck and along my left cheek. “Now I got the good position,” he whispered to me. “This is where I was waiting to get.” I felt his large paws caressing my asscheeks. He gave a fast little excited nip on my left ear. I didn’t think anyone had noticed, thank goodness.
Once again I felt activity below the waste, and heard the sound of a zipper. And soon another big pole was poking into my private place. But this one seemed very thick. Very very thick. How could that go in? I wondered. I was really curious now, and I forced my arms into movement, so that I could reach behind myself and feel Pablo’s heavy rod. It really was thick. “Ay, Papito, si,” he whispered to me. “Jerk my big dick. Feel what’s gonna go into yo’ hot hole. You gonna enjoy that, ain’t you?”
“Yes,” I answered. What was I going to say?’No’?
“Put it in for me, honey,” he whispered into my ear, practically licking it. “Put yo’ man’s big cock into yo’ hot pussy.” With my arm bent behind me, I tried to maneuver it into my body. I got it into position and began pressing back on it. Slowly and with difficulty my flesh was spreading apart around it, and it was heading home, nine inches into me.
“Uff,” I breathed.
“Oh, man. So nice. So nice,” chanted Pablo into my ear, as he hunched into my behind. And once I got used to the girth of it, it really was ’so nice’. I closed my eyes as the train roared forward, rocking me in a steady comforting motion on and off that meaty warm plunger. On and off. On and off. The rhythm of the tracks. I didn’t have to think about a thing. It was all just happening to me.
“Oh, Pablo,” I sighed aloud. And the Latina lady who was now behind Angel gave me a strange suspicious look. I didn’t even care. She couldn’t see anything. And it was all wonderful.
“Arthur. Arthur,” called Florence from down the car. I smiled at her and nodded. I still couldn’t wave. She was watching me as I was getting my husbandly ass fucked, and in a million years she could never imagine what was happening in that subway car. It was funny. I laughed a little. Pablo thought I was laughing from pleasure and began to hammer into me. Each time he slammed forward, I would slam back, but above the waist you couldn’t see the hint of a movement. We were just a couple of guys crushed in a subway car on the way home from the Latin Day Parade.
“Ay, Papito. Que culo,” he said appreciatively. ‘What an ass’. This time I think the woman maybe heard the word ‘culo’. She was really giving me some piercing strange looks. I kept my eyes blank. Angel meanwhile was playing with my dick, just as Miguelito had. I looked at him, but his eyes avoided me. It was like we didn’t even know each other. Okay. If that was the way he wanted it. But he kept stroking my penis, which felt very good.
Pablo was rotating his hips, trying to invent new directions to fuck me from. One direction hit my prostate hard and I would have jumped a foot in the air if only I could have moved a muscle. He heard me gasp, and started to hammer into my gland.
“Arthur. Arthur,” waved Florence, trying to edge her way through the crowd to be at my side. Just what I needed right now. “Stay there, Florence,” I yelled above the crowd in a trembling voice. “It’s too crowded.”
It was hard to speak with the feelings that were coursing through my midsection. And I wanted to concentrate on those feelings, not have to pretend that I wasn’t having those feelings with Florence jabbering pleasantries at my side, while Pablo’s big cock was threading in and out of my ass. “Uff,” I said again. The woman behind Angel gave me a dirty look. I think she was beginning to suspect something. Maybe because my face was sweating a little. I just kept a frozen smile on my face and looked beyond her.
The woman couldn’t have missed hearing Pablo’s hardly stifled throaty “GGGRAAAHH,” as his Spanish seed fertilized my assgarden. There was so much of it that it began to ooze out around his planted cock, and run down my pants legs. My ass squeezed down on the softening member, hugging it, caressing it, loving it. “Que culo,” he repeated.
“Gracias,” I murmered. The woman was now sneering at me. I took my eyes off her and looked up into Angel’s baby browns. His thin cruel lips were spread in an amused smirk. He was looking into Pablo’s eyes and communicating a shared experience. My ass.