It was quitting time on Friday. All the downtown commuters were busy rushing to the train to find a precious postage stamp sized piece of real estate, or if the gods shone upon them that day, and actual seat. The gods were frowning on Jennifer. It seems she had taken too long to change from her work shoes into her walking shoes and she had arrived at the train station at just the perfect time. Just in time to see the last seat being taken and not late enough to avoid being herded all the way to the back of the car to stand in the isle. There she stood... one arm up in the air holding onto the strap for leverage, the large pink bag weighting it down from the shoulder, the other arm crossed in front of her around her waist so she doesn't end up grabbing the briefcase that's attached to the man behind her. "Man," she thought to herself "could he at least pull that back a bit?"
She turned around to see what the problem was and noticed that the briefcase was back as far as it could go. Turns out, there was only one very thin man between her and the back wall of the Train. He was holding that briefcase up against the wall already. "Great," she thought "I'm going to have to put up with this briefcase bumping into my hip the whole ride home."
So there she stood, staring straight ahead into the back of the large stranger in front of her, briefcase on her right hip, left arm up in the air (untucking her shirt...argh!) with her pink bag on her left shoulder bumping into her left hip. Good luck keeping steady on this ride home.
At the next stop, even more people got on pushing her further to the rear of the train car. Now she could see that blasted briefcase protruding out in front of her a few inches. "At least the guy behind me has to deal with my bag like I get to deal with his." she thought as she adjusted it on her shoulder again. Not thinking that was a nice thing, she put the bag on the ground and grabbed the overhead bar with the other arm, to give the previous on a break. The overhead bar a slightly higher that the strap so she had to reach, being the short woman that she is. This made the left side of her shirt come untucked from her skirt even more than the right hand side, but who would notice because the BREIFCASE IS STLL THERE!
One more stop and she starts feeling like a sardine. No, Sardines have more room. Peas in pods? No. You know those cars you see on the junkyard shows when they crush them into little cubes? Yeah, she feels like the steering wheel. She also feels something else. It's slight, but it's there. This guy behind her, briefcase man, is pressing his package against her! She can feel it through the black skirt and nylons she has on. There it is. That lump pressing against her right butt cheek. She moves her hips slightly to get just the slightest movement to check if what she's feeling is what she thinks it is. With the swaying of the Train car on the tracks, it easy to make it seem like the train did it.
Her suspicions are confirmed right away as she feels a slight swelling of the bulge. "This has to be the guy's dick I'm feeling," she chuckled to herself. She chuckled for two reasons. First, how bad does it have to be that you are copping a feel with your dick from some strange lady on the Train, and second, he's really kind of small..."Well, he was a thin man," as she chuckles again. She moves her hips a few more times to rub against his pencil penis just to see how long he'll actually do this, and to see if she can get it to grow some, poor guy...at least it seems he likes what he's feeling
Wondering if people are watching this, she takes a quick glance to the seats on the right of her. There's two guys (give a girl your seats?) there. The one by the window is staring out the window, engrossed in his IPod, and the one close to her is reading some book. To the left is a woman in the window seat. Eyes closed. It looks like she's gonna be on the train for a long time, and is used to it. Closest to her is another man reading some book with his headphones on. Not that they could see anything anyway because of the briefcase rubbing up against her hip!
"Wait..." she thought" If that briefcase is up against the back wall, so is Mr. Pencil penis. That means He's not rubbing me...I'm rubbing him!" She'd been letting the swaying of the Train car do all of her dirty work for her, not knowing that this guy didn't ask for this. She can't move much forward because of the very large man in front of her, but manages to roll her hips forward just enough to not to rub the skinny genie anymore.