He looked into her eyes as he started unbuttoning his shirt. Her eyes flashed wildly and she sprang to life, bucking against the cabinet and trying to move her arms or legs. She was suspended quite tightly, he knew she wasn't going anywhere. He let her struggle, let her start wearing herself out. It would make the job a tad bit easier without making it too easy that it wasn't fun anymore. He peeled the white shirt off, his white tank top exposing the tattoos that her eyes had never seen before. His left arm and shoulder were covered with tribal designs down just past his elbow. His rolled up sleeves had come just below the bottom of the body art. If one looked closely they would see that the designs formed a dragon made from the curves and twists of the tribal pattern. His right arm bore a skeleton perched on a motorcycle, a cigarette clutched between its teeth. The skeleton's right arm was raised and the middle finger extended. Her eyes widened as she took in what could. As the train pulled up, hordes of office workers rushed out of the train while even more people waited on the sides. Finally, after the train emptied its load, everyone piled into the train. I was practically lifted off of my feet as a tsunami of commuters squeezed in like sardines. I could have gotten into the “women only” train reserved during rush hour so women could avoid being felt up by lecherous geezers, a problem common during rush hour—but the thought of being felt up made me even more excited. The train pulled out of the station as everyone jostled for what little space remained in the car. I was crushed on all sides and I could hardly move my arms which were crossed in front of me. As the train swayed back and forth on the tracks, my hand stroked the front of my slip. The smooth nylon slip slid across my nylon-covered thighs and garter belt clips. I rubbed my thighs together and the hissing sensation of nylons rubbing further aroused my pussy. I slipped my hand under my.
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