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A man anally molests a stranger on a crowded commu

Anal Sex with Stranger on a Train 1

On the way home from work, a man anally m*****s a stranger on a crowded commuter train.

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.

With no way to get home in this raging snowstorm, they’d have to find a hotel room or return to work to spend the night.

In the way they were packed in like sardines, he didn’t think they could squeeze in one more person but they did and continually kept doing until the doors finally slowly closed. The last train out of Springfield, Massachusetts heading for Boston’s North Station, in the way that the cars were so overstuffed with people, this commuter train could have been a train in Tokyo, Japan.

If this train crashed, he was protected by and surrounded by so many human airbags. Not able to move anywhere but up, he’d be cushioned by so many bodies that he didn’t think he’d be hurt, that is, so long as the train car he was on stayed intact and didn’t disintegrate upon impact.

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 f***e 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.

* * * * *

Feeling a bit feverishly lightheaded with all the perfume and estrogen that surrounded him, he was the only man in the passenger car. There were so very many women and so very many women’s asses on the train that he didn’t know where to look.

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. Everywhere he looked, he saw women’s asses. Packed in ass Heaven as if he was a Jewish prisoner on a train headed for a Nazi death camp, so long as he really wasn’t going to be gassed and die, what a way to go?

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. Getting better at picking out the right woman, one who’d be receptive to his inappropriate gropes and sexual advances, cramped in a train with so many asses, he felt confident that he’d find his anal sexual match on this crowded train.

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.

“Pig. ”

“Pervert. ”

“How dare you?”


Grinding his cock against this ass and against that ass, he bumped that one before humping this one. As if making his way through a feminine maze, turning one way to turn to the other when spotting an ass that he’d like to be more intimately familiar with, he f***ed his way slowly and sexually excitedly through the crowd of women.

“Excuse me. Pardon me. Sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me. Sorry,” he said finally squeezing his way all the way down the passenger car.

At last, standing directly behind his chosen victim, he positioned himself behind her, his preferred position with women. With barely any room to stand, he stood so close to her round, shapely buttocks that he’d be hard pressed to slip a playing card between her ass and his emerging cock.

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.

* * * * *

When most men drove their cars back and forth to work, perhaps because of the sexy view in rubbing elbows with so very many attractive women, Peter enjoyed taking the commuter train while always hoping that an anal sexual opportunity would present itself.

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. Fortunately for him, there were always many more women on the train than men and with today with him the only man on a car stuffed with women, today was a women’s fest bonanza.

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. When the doors opened, as if filling an empty container with fast flowing water or filling a cattle car with cattle, he couldn’t believe the deluge of women who pushed and shoved their way to get on this train.

Rather standing than sitting, with the train teeming with asses, he couldn’t count how many up skirts and down blouses, his horny eyes have been already been rewarded in seeing. He’ll be masturbating over this day later tonight while surfing the Internet for porn as his wife sl**ps alone in bed with her virginal ass. An anal paradise, he was surrounded by women’s asses covered in pants, jeans, dresses, skirts, slips, pantyhose, and panties.

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. Funny that he’d marry a woman who only had an average ass, an ordinary ass instead of a spectacular ass, perhaps it was just coincidental that his ass fetish started after he married his wife. 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. His favorite song, Baby Got Back by Sir Mix-a-Lot, he knew all the words by heart.

“I like big butts and I cannot lie. You other b*****rs can’t deny that when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face, you get sprung, wanna pull out your tough ‘cause you notice that butt was stuffed deep in the jeans she’s wearing.

I’m hooked and can’t stop staring,” sung Peter to himself while staring at the ass directly in front of him.

He loved women’s round, firm asses and the woman standing directly in front of him, a tall, leggy blonde had the most perfectly beautiful ass he’s ever seen. 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. Already in the mood, he’d love to get him some of that.

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.

The first time she bumped him, she turned hallway around to him without her really seeing him and without him really seeing her and said, “Sorry. ” Yet, with nowhere for her to go and with nowhere else he could stand, they were stuck together as if they were contestants getting ready for an ass dancing contest.

* * * * *

Going with the flow, he maintained his swaying motion as if they were having anal sex while sitting on a swing.

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. Yet, if he missed a beat, she’d immediately know that he was being fresh with her ass when he missed a cue and humped her ass without her bumping him.

With the train being this crowded, he’s already gotten away with a lot more than he normally does when the train isn’t as pack jammed with women.

Being that she had already given him an erection with her ass movement and being that the train was so crowded to capacity if not more so, he thought he’d take a chance. 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.

Besides, if she was so opposed to him touching and feeling her ass, the train was so overcrowded that this poor woman standing in front of him didn’t even have the room to turn around to slap his face for being fresh with her ass. With her arms pinned by her side, she didn’t even have the room to raise her arms to hold onto anything.

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. Yet protected by all the women standing around her and with him standing behind her, she didn’t need to hold on to anything to maintain her balance.

Ever so lightly, as if forging the signature on the back of his deceased mother’s Social Security check or writing his name in the sand at the beach while ogling half naked women, he traced the outline of her panty through her dress with the delicate touch of his fingers.

A master panty tracer, having groped unsuspecting women all of his adult life, an expert at groping, sexually assaulting, and shamelessly m*****ing women, just by the first touch of her ass, he could tell she wasn’t wearing a slip or pantyhose, just panty. 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.

* * * * *

He hated pantyhose. They should tar and feather the gay man who invented pantyhose and ban him from residing in the United States of America. Paying an actor masquerading as a doctor to tell TV viewers in a commercial that pantyhose is bad for women’s health, Congress should pass a law outlawing pantyhose. The only people allowed to wear pantyhose should be professional football players and armed robbers.

Unable to see panties through pantyhose, how dare some gay man invent something that ruins heterosexual men’s voyeuristic up skirt fun?

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.

Yet, more than just her bikini panties, he’s felt asses before but he’s never felt an ass like this one before. 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 the train too crowded for him to do so without feeling the giant asses of the women on either side of him and without bumping in the huge ass behind him, if he could reach his hand down in his pocket, he’d pull out a quarter to bounce off the firm, shapely ass of the woman standing in front of him. Certain that he’d catch the quarter every time with the big bounce that it would no doubt take.

He’d love to play that coin game all day with her phenomenal ass. He’d love to hit her ass, slap her ass, squeeze her ass, and spank her ass.

Being that he was shorter than she was, an average 5’9” tall, and with her nearly 6’ tall in her high heels, strangely enough, he was at the advantage. 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 m*****ation 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.

Oh, my God. Form fittingly highlighted and proudly raised up by the tightness of her bikini panties, indeed, she had an incredible ass, the most perfect ass and ass cheeks he’s ever seen.

Her ass was so round, so full, and so tight, that he couldn’t wait to touch her ass. He couldn’t wait to feel her ass. He couldn’t wait to fondle her ass. He couldn’t wait to caress her ass.

He couldn’t wait to squeeze her ass and God willing, he couldn’t wait to fuck her ass.

* * * * *

Fortunately for him in this case, he was no George Clooney or Brad Pitt, and being that he was a plain, average, and nondescript man, all the other women on the train paid him no never mind. All the other women on the train were busy talking, laughing, reading, and/or talking on their cell phones, that is, those who had a cell phone signal.

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? Maybe his perfect woman, she didn’t care that he was having his inappropriate way with her panty and ass.

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? How could she not know he was caressing her in a way that she’d only allow her husband, her boyfriend, her lover, her son, or her son-in-law to touch her, feel her, and grope her? Seemingly hopeful that she was having as much fun being touched, felt, and groped as he was having fun feeling her, touching her, and groping her oh, so voluptuous body, he didn’t want this sexual exchange to abruptly stop.

On the way home from work, a man anally m*****s a stranger on a train.

The furthest he’s ever gotten to freely touching, feeling, and groping a woman’s nearly naked ass on a moving train, he was so excited. Not wanting to make a mistake by rushing things, if she didn’t know what he was doing behind her, he’d rather keep it that way. By going slow and taking his time, he was doing all that he could do to make this encounter last longer by being undetected in his sexual assault of her oh, so beautiful body and oh, so perfect ass.

Perhaps because the train was so overcrowded with oblivious women, victims he called them, women who were too busy texting and talking on their cell phones, reading, or talking to and laughing with another passenger to notice what he was doing. With him surrounded by supersized asses, no one could see what he was doing to the woman’s ass standing in front of him. He still couldn’t believe that she was allowing him to have his wicked way with her ass.

Having lifted a few skirts before, he’s never lifted a woman’s skirt in public before. He’s the most excited he’s ever been to not only having lifted her skirt all the way up to her waist but also by keeping her skirt there with her panties exposed by the close contact of their bodies.

Even if this sexual m*****ation was to end now with her feeling his hand, swatting his hand away, and pushing down her dress, he’ll be masturbating over this day of having his sexual way with a woman’s panty clad ass for the rest of his life.

It was even more sexually exciting that she was a total stranger. Someone he’s never met before and didn’t even know her name, he’s now more intimate with her ass than he’s ever been with all of his co-workers, relatives, and friends’ wives. Gaining more confidence and growing bolder with every seemingly welcomed touch, he finally put his whole hand on her panty clad ass and left it there while waiting for her to protest his unwelcomed sexual advances.

From his fingertips to the palm of his hand and down to his pulsating cock and throbbing erection, the sensation of him touching and feeling her panty was electric. He was feeling her ass. He couldn’t believe that he was feeling her ass. Oh my God. Are you k**ding me? How could she not know that he was feeling her ass?

As if he was feeling Christie Brinkley’s ass twenty years ago, the warmth of her firm, round ass is something he’ll never forget and something he’ll always remember for the rest of his life.

The train slowly moved, stopped, and abruptly jumped before going again while swaying from the wind nearly in the way of having sex on a waterbed. In the way that she continually bumped him and then even sometimes grinded him with her shapely ass, he now knew that she knew that he was touching her ass.

Seriously, how could she not know that his horny hands were all over her firm, round ass? Maybe she was okay with him feeling her ass so long as he didn’t try to stick his hand between her legs and move her panty aside to finger fuck her pussy.

Moreover and more importantly, she was seemingly okay with him having his wicked way with her ass. What an unbelievable woman, she was such an unbelievable woman to allow him to lift her dress and have his way with her panties. With her bumping and grinding him, ass for cock, he continually and gently humped her and grinded her ass with his erection.

Doubting that a woman so tall, so blonde, so busty, and seemingly so beautiful would allow some sick pervert to park his cock between her ass cheeks before lifting up her dress to hump her, he couldn’t believe his luck.

Out of all the women on this train, he found the one, perhaps the only one, who wanted to play. She must know that he’s feeling her ass. How could she not feel him m*****ing her? How could she not feel his hand touching her exposed panty and her delicious ass checks that looked like something that Michelangelo carved from alabaster? How could she not know that he was humping her and grinding against her ass as if she was a stripper giving him a lap dance?

Back and forth and in and out, she bumped him while he humped her and while she pressed her exposed panty clad ass against his cock as if she was trying to get him to penetrate her through his clothes and through her panties.

Erotically exciting and sexually enticing, a sexy game they obviously both enjoyed playing, what are the odds that he’d find such an anally receptive, sexy woman on the train ride from his work in Springfield to his home in Boston? Moreover, with all the stars lining up for this chance meeting, having never seen her before, had there not been a blizzard of a snowstorm outside and had the train not been this overcrowded, he never would have had met her.

He never would have had the opportunity he was given to take such sexual liberty with her ass in the way that he was doing now. Always wanting to have sex with a stranger on a train, having always dreamt of having sex with a woman on a train, even if he didn’t do another thing, he was living out that sexual fantasy now.

Was she really playing his game of anal tease and tickle with her ass and with him too or was she just that oblivious to his gropes, feels, and touches? Maybe afraid and nervous about being caught in a blizzard and unable to feel anything, she took a numbing Valium to get through the train ride.

Yeah, that’s it. Maybe she’s on d**gs. Maybe she had a few drinks and/or sniffed some cocaine before getting on the train. Not looking the type to take d**gs or to be inebriated, maybe she was just a sexual a****l. In the way that he always was, maybe she was just horny.

Maybe she was so focused on the snowstorm and so nervous about the train ride that she didn’t know that he was having his wicked, sexual way with her panties and with her ass.

Maybe too frightened over the storm and/or too frightened over him inappropriately touching her, she seemingly didn’t care that he was touching, feeling, groping, and humping her ass. Maybe this is all a trap, a setup arranged by her. Maybe she’s already alerted the authorities by texting them. Maybe she’s just going along with him and would report him to the police as soon as he alighted from the train. Maybe she’d have him arrested, prosecuted, convicted, and sentenced to do hard time for attempted **** in lifting her skirt up to her waist and having his wicked way with her perfectly round, firm ass through her panty.

* * * * *

What others can get away with doing to women in other countries, especially in Japan, wasn’t tolerated here in America. The women here weren’t as passively submissive as were the Japanese women who routinely submitted themselves to the wills of their husbands, their sons, their sons-in-law, their bosses, and to strangers. The women here were more aggressively angry and wouldn’t give any man an inch inside her anal cavity without a diamond ring decorating her finger.

The women here would kick his ass if they even suspected that he was being sexually inappropriate with not only their ass but also with another woman’s ass at the park, on an elevator, in the mall, or on this train.

As if he had a death wish, his ass fetish was a dangerous fetish to have when on a train with so many angry women, especially with him being the lone man on this commuter train car.

Fearing that the women would take their snowstorm frustrations out on him and the law in their own hands, if they caught him having anal sex with a stranger, he feared that the women would beat him to death. So as not to be noticed by anyone other than his intended victim, he had to take care when groping any woman’s ass.

So many women, too many women, are dedicated members of the order of Don’t Touch My Ass.

As if they’re all Nuns of the Holy Order of the s****rhood of Anal Virgins, in their detestation of anal sex, it was never an easy task to find a woman so agreeable to him touching, feeling, groping, and m*****ing her ass. With the Puritan lifestyle still alive and well in America, especially in Boston, too many women are too uptight when it comes to anal sex, especially when it comes to anal sex, and especially when they’ve never tried it before.

According to them, their ass cavity is only for outgoing and never for incoming.

Just like Mikey in the Maypo commercials of old, his b*****rs needed him to try something new, a new cereal, this time a maple flavored oatmeal. Perhaps, if a woman tried anal sex, she’d like anal sex. Perhaps, if his wife tried anal sex, she’d like anal sex too. Only, most times, just like trying to get Mikey to eat new things, women were a hard sell when it came to trying anal sex, especially for the first time.

“Give it to Mikey. He won’t eat anything. He like it! Mikey liked it!”

* * * * *

Certainly, she can’t be that oblivious to his lustful feels, sexual gropes, and inappropriate touches. When a horse can feel a fly landing on its behind and swats it away with its tail, she must certainly feel the warmth of his hand on her oh, so thin and oh, so sexy panty clad ass.

If she didn’t want him touching her, then why hasn’t she wiggled her ass away from his touch? As if encouraging him to feel more or her, if she didn’t want him feeling her ass, then why was she keeping her ass pressed tightly right up against him, bumping him, and grinding her ass against his cock?

Not daring to move his hand from the round, firm, curve of her beautiful ass, taking his sweet time, his way to test the anal water, so to speak, one step at a time, he gave her ass a gentle squeeze when, instead, he wanted to give her ass a hard slap and an even harder hump.

Finally, when he squeezed her ass, she didn’t move away but, instead, she moved back into him as if encouraging his hand to feel and squeeze more of what no stranger should feel and squeeze of an innocent woman’s behind aboard a commuter train crawling through a snowstorm. He squeezed her ass again, this time a little longer and a little more firmly in the way of testing a ripe watermelon in a supermarket.

Again, unfazed by his touches, pinches, and squeezes, seemingly liking the sexual attention, she planted her ass right up against his horny hand and right up against his hardening cock. Oh, yeah, he found a winner if this bitch wants to play ass and cock and bump and hump.

Always a wanton desire of his, he always wanted to have anal sex with a stranger on a train. Beckoning him to keep rhythm with his hips, long before his sexual fantasy of having anal sex on a train with a stranger, there’s something about the movement of the train and the sound of the tracks that always made him horny.

Seemingly a good looking woman from what he could see of her, he looked up at her and all that he could see of her was her long, beautiful, blonde hair. Poking his head around her, to look at her from the side, he could see the full outline of one of her big breasts, her flat, toned stomach, and her oh, so shapely hips. With a body like any sex siren that Homer wrote about in his Odyssey, definitely, she had big tits, a full C cup, maybe even a D cup.

He was glad that she wasn’t wearing a long, cumbersome, wool coat that would surely get in the way of his horny hands and sexual desire. With too much material in the way to dispose of, impossible to lift her skirt without her knowing had she been wearing a coat, he was glad she was wearing what she was wearing or not wearing. Too much heavy material that interferes with what he wanted to do to her, it was too hard to discern from the little jacket she wore how big her breasts were but suffice to say that she had big tits.

Besides, more interested in her ass than her breasts, where most men would rather be facing her big tits and her beautiful face, being the dirty dog that he was, he was in Heaven standing behind her while humping her ass.

* * * * *

He wondered why someone would wear light, unseasonable clothes when it was so cold outside. Lucky for him, maybe she runs hot. Lucky for him again, maybe she drove her car into work and with the streets unplowed, she had to take the train home, the poor thing.

If he had his car, he’d offer her a ride home. He couldn’t help but imagine having anal sex with her in the backseat of his car. Yet, if he had taken his car to work instead of taking the train, he never would have met this wonderfully sexy, sexual woman with the great ass who wanted to play bump and hump.

Even though they had predicted some snow, a light dusting they said, the weathermen didn’t predict a blizzard.

Instead of calling it their pinpoint forecast, he called it their pinheaded forecast. With all of their advanced degrees, meteorological computers, and Doppler radar, it’s amazing to him why they just don’t pull their heads out of their asses and stick their heads out the window to tell everyone that’s it’s snowing outside.

Maybe they should keep a beetle in a box to see if it develops spots. In response to decreasing barometric pressure, beetles demonstrate less of a sex drive when the weather turns foul.

Actually, a more accurate way to forecast the weather is to be in tune with Mother Nature, more in the way that the farmers are and always have been. He couldn’t remember when his local weathermen got a forecast correct, that is, unless they were right about the previous day and the next day in a three day cycle of unchanged weather. Seemingly, they’d have better meteorological success reading the Farmer’s Almanac and reciting what’s written there as if the almanac was a weather Bible.

Seeing her side profile, she looked a little older, his age, no doubt, late thirties or early forties. Oh, yeah, having learned some sexual things about woman from experience, specifically some anal things, the more mature women are the types who want to play. Old enough to know better, he wondered how far she’d allow him to go with her shapely ass before stopping him.

Too full of themselves and with most of them not wanting anything to do with an older man, he’s never had any luck with the younger ones.

Seemingly done with sex and angry that they’re developing facial hair and bad attitudes about everything to go along with their aches and pains, imaginary or real, he hasn’t had much luck with the older women either. Yet, for some reason, the women this age, late thirties and early forties, are the real, sexy, horny bitches, and the genuine MILFs. Married, divorced, and out working for a living in the real world, after having already been around the block a few times, instead of having some dopey guy taking care of them, he has the most success with independent women like her and women more his age.

Seemingly as if given the go ahead, with a long train ride home made into an extra-long train ride because of the foul weather, he had a ways to go before he’d be getting off this train. Not minding the long train ride now that he has her to keep his horny hands and hard cock company, he only wished this train was the Orient Express instead of the express to Boston.

Going for broke, with her his type of woman, one in a million, doing something he’s never done before, he unzipped himself and removed his cock from his pants and underwear.

With his erection totally exposed, blocked by three, big asses anyway, and with so many people blocking the light, it was dark and no one could see the movement of his horny hands and erect cock. Feeling as if he was a pervert sitting at the cinema filled with oblivious women while accidentally on purpose groping them, whenever the train stopped and the lights extinguished, which was all the time, it was pitch black.

The perfect opportunity for him to have his wicked way with her ass, the only one who’d stop him was her and she didn’t appear to be disagreeable to his horny hands feeling and fondling her exposed panties.

With her dress already pulled up to her waist and the excess material tossed to the side, he rubbed his erection against her panty in the way that he’s rubbed his cock against his mother’s, his s****r’s, his s****r-in-law’s, and mother-in-law’s underwear whenever finding their panties and bras unattended and discarded in the laundry bin.

With him the perfect height for her, he stuck his erection between the back of her legs. As if he was wearing a panty clad condom made of pale blue cotton, he enjoyed the feeling of her panty rubbing against his cock.

He felt his cock touch the back and the sides of her bare thighs. The feeling of his skin on her soft skin was an unbelievably arousing sensation. Instead of her resisting him, instead of her fighting him, and instead of her screaming ****, she pressed her ass into him as if she was giving him the permission to penetrate her and to fuck her up her ass.

What an unbelievable train ride, such an unbelievable train ride, he’ll be masturbating over this day and over this woman for the rest of his life.

Then, surprising even him, with her now playing the aggressor’s role and with him being the submissive and controlled one, he felt her long, manicured fingers touch his cock. Unbelievable. She just touched his cock. He couldn’t believe she felt his prick. No frigging way. Now beyond a shadow of a doubt and no longer giving her the benefit of the doubt with thinking that she took a valium, was d***k, or nervous about the train ride in a snowstorm, he knew that she knew what he was doing behind her.

Wrapping her long fingers around his cock as if she had wrapped her fingers around his big, hard cock a hundred times before, he couldn’t believe this was really happening to him. As if ready to give him a slow, sexy hand job, she was holding his cock in her hand while slowly stroking him to an even harder erection. In the experienced way she was stroking him, no doubt, she’s stroked lots of cocks in her beautiful hand before.

His sexual fantasy come true, he’s been looking for someone like her for years. Oh yeah, no doubt about it, he had a live one here.
On the way home from work, a man has anal sex on a train with a stranger.

Without even turning around to look at him, she reached her hand around behind herself to touch him, to feel him, and to hold his cock in her warm hand.

With her holding his cock in her hand while slowly stroking him, as if giving him a not so subtle sign, this sexy bitch was ready for him to fuck her up the ass. In the way that she wiggled her ass and pressed her ass against him and his exposed cock, in the way that she was leaning back into him while he pushed her forward and humped her ass with his cock, he could tell that she wanted anal sex bad.

Obviously, she was into anal sex just as much as he was into anal sex. This one was a horny, sexy bitch. Most women would never have sex in public. Most women would never have anal sex. Yet, she was a woman not only willing to have sex in public but also willing to have anal sex. She was a one in a million woman who wanted him to do her right here and right now on this train to Boston.

Having already crossed the line in the sexual m*****ation of her, now for the difficult part. It was one thing for him to hump her ass. It was another thing for him to lift up her dress, expose her panty, and to feel her ass through her panty. Yet, it was something else entirely for him to pull down her panty and fuck her up the ass, that is, unless he could prove that the sex was consensual.

With sodomy still against the law in many states and frowned upon by those who aren’t gay men, assuredly so, it was **** for him to do what he was about to do.

Ever so slowly so as not to be noticed by the other passengers that surrounded them on the train, he inched down her panty as if he was a Japanese man and she was a Japanese woman about to be sexually accosted on a subway train in Japan.

A chance he was willing to take, he hoped when he lowered her panty that she wouldn’t come to her senses, realize what he was doing, and reject him by screaming ****. Instead of standing in the middle of a crowded commuter train, he only wished that she was standing in front of a full length mirror in a department store dressing room. He wished he could see her ass and her pussy at the same time while pulling down her panty in the way of pulling up a curtain to reveal a Price Is Right showcase.

Waiting for her to negatively react with her skirt raised and her panties pulled down, he took a big breath. Going all in and playing for all the marbles, when her panty was down far enough, he licked his fingers and lubricated her tight, little ass with his spittle. Wishing he didn’t have to use his own saliva, he wasn’t eager to part with his own DNA should there be a problem with him fucking her up the ass and with the forensic authorities identifying him.

Yet with him not having any lube and not even a condom, after serendipitously getting this lucky with a woman, what else was he supposed to do? Next time, he’ll remember to carry some lube around with him and a condom.

Next time? Who’s he k**ding? A once in a lifetime chance, the perfect storm, they’ll never be a next time with a woman wanting him to fuck her up the ass on a train during a snowstorm.

Only, too sexually excited to think about such things, he didn’t think about the reality of what he was doing in sodomizing a woman on the train. Pondering only her naked, creamy, white ass, he didn’t ponder his subsequent arrest, felony conviction, state’s prosecution, and long term prison incarceration. His only focus was pulling down her panties and having anal sex with this woman on a train.

As if giving her a medical exam, he felt her jump when he first inserted his finger inside of her anal cavity.

Perhaps his finger and/or his spittle was cold. Everything was cold on this train but for the inside of her anal cavity. The coldest day of the year with a blizzard outside, fearing that his skin would stick to anything metal, he didn’t dare touch anything metallic on the train without a glove.

Then, instead of trying to move away, she squirmed back into him for his finger to penetrate her deeper.

Doing her best to accommodate him, she even leaned forward just a little to give him better access to her beautiful, naked ass. Oh, my God, what a woman, what an unbelievable woman. Whatever he was doing to her, she was willingly going along with it.

Out of all the women on this train, he chose her. What were the odds that she’d not only be agreeable to having anal sex with him but also to having public sex with him on an overcrowded moving train? He couldn’t believe his luck.

‘Thank you Jesus,’ he thought to himself.

Without having a computer preloaded with all of the woman who willing would have anal sex and of all the woman who would willingly have anal sex in public, he was unable to compute the statistical possibilities in his head. What are the odds that he’d pick the right woman who’d be receptive to his sexual assault? He picked the one in a million women who’d be receptive to him giving her anal sex in public on a crowded train.


Something he’s never done with anyone before but always wishing that he could do with his wife, his s****r, his mother, his mother-in-law, and/or his s****r-in-law, surreally erotic, he was finger fucking a woman up her ass that he’s never met before. Never even having spoken to her before and someone who he didn’t even know her name, so very sexually exciting, he couldn’t believe that she was allowing him to fuck her up her ass with his finger.

If she was to stop him right now, pull up her panties, and pull down her dress, if this was all that he’d do with her, even though he wanted to do so much more, this was good enough for him.

He’ll be masturbating over this wonderful, anal, sexual day for the rest of his life. Finally he was living out his sexual fantasy of having anal sex with a stranger on the train.

Even though his cock wasn’t inside of her yet, his finger was and if only by the definition of the law, that still constitutes sodomy. Whether a dildo, a bottle, a broom handle, or his cock, she was allowing him to sodomize her with his stiff, middle finger.

* * * * *

Taking a risk and taking a big gamble, fortunately for him, so long as both participants are adults, sodomy is legal in Massachusetts.

Yet, what he was doing was still ****, that is, unless she told authorities that it was consensual sex and welcomed as much by her as it was wanted by him. If not consensual and if reported by her, he could go to prison for life. With him on the smaller side and unable to protect himself from someone bigger and stronger, in the way that she was his bitch now, he could be someone’s bitch in prison.

If caught pulling up her dress, pulling down her panties, and finger fucking her up her ass, already constituting ****, the women aboard this train would surely beat him and stomp him to death.

No tolerance for nonconsensual sex, women had even less tolerance for a man who sexually abused a woman. To make matters worse, they’d show him no mercy for forcing a woman to have anal sex. Yet, even if he told them that the anal sex was consensual, they’d still show him no mercy.

Certainly, if discovered having anal sex with this woman, no doubt with her being a stranger, something he hadn’t given any thought to before, she’d throw him under the bus. Even though she seemed agreeable to him having his sexual way with her ass, doing something so nastily forbidden, they were still having anal sex in public on a crowded train. With him a total stranger and her wanting to protect her reputation, no doubt, especially if she was married with k**s and had much to lose, definitely crying ****, she’d blame it all on him.

“It was all his fault,” he imagined her saying while pointing the finger of accusation at him as if he was Hester Prynne living in Salem Massachusetts in 1642 in Nathanial Hawthorne’s story, The Scarlet Letter. “There was nothing that I could do when he lifted up my dress and pulled down my panties. Too strong for me to resist, I was standing there so helpless to stop him from taking sexual advantage of me,” he envisioned her putting the back of her hand to her forehead and putting her head back as if she was about to faint.

“What happened?” He imagined the other passengers on the train asking what he did.

Spreading through the train like a wild fire in a forest, the outrage of a man taking sexual advantage of an innocent women in the closed environment of a passenger train car is something they’d never tolerate.

“He lifted her dress,” he imagined someone saying in the crowd. “He put his hands and rubbed his exposed cock all over her panties.

“Pervert,” he imagined hearing.

“Pig,” he imagined a woman saying.

“He pulled down her panties,” he imagined someone else saying.

“Degenerate,” he imagined hearing.

“That’s so nasty,” he imagine hearing another woman saying.

“He fucked her up her ass with her finger,” he imagined hearing.

“Oh my God, how dare he do that to her? Such a vile, dirty man,” he imagined another woman saying.

“He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that,” he imagined the women talking among themselves.

“I could have screamed,” he imagined the woman he sexually assaulted saying after the other women discovered that he sodomized her with his finger. “But with the train so crowded and in the way of screaming fire in a crowded movie theatre, I didn’t want to start a panic. I didn’t want to cause any trouble.

I just wanted to go home,” he imagined her crying.

“Oh, my God, the poor, poor thing,” he imagined women talking among themselves. “How could he do that to her?”

“Then, when he pulled down my panties,” he imagined his anal victim saying while pretending to sob in her hands, “I couldn’t believe it when inserted his dirty, little finger up my ass. I’ve never been so embarrassed. I’ve never been so mortified.

I’ve never been so humiliated. I’ve never been so used and abused, even by my son and his friends when they had their wicked gangbang way with me when they found me out of my mind d***k. “

“Shocking,” he imagined another woman saying. “How dare he do that to her?”

“Bastard, he’s such a son-of-a-bitch, dirty bastard,” he imagine someone else voicing. “I have a good mind to anally violate him with the sharp end of my umbrella.

“Pig,” said another woman.

As if he were Julius Caesar, he imagined himself muttering, “Et tu, Brute. ” Running scared and nervous that he’d be caught and reported, he imagined this beautiful angel, who so willingly returned his humps with her bumps before reaching around to take his cock in her hand to stroke him, now innocently stood before him as if she was the victim. He imagined her turning to look at him before sticking her final, imaginary dagger through his heart in the way that Marc Antony did to Julius Caesar.

He imagined the District Attorney for the prosecution allowing this woman that he sodomized to tell her story to a jury of her peers.

“He pulled up my dress and touched me, felt me, fondled me, and caressed my ass through my sheer panties. Then, he pulled down my panties. Oh my God, I couldn’t believe it when he dared pull down my panties. With the train so very crowded, unable to move, I was so frightened.

Figuring that he’d finger my pussy, instead he fingered my ass. He ****d me when he stuck his finger up my ass,” he imagined her saying while turning to a jury of her peers at the trial with a face full of crocodile tears.

“****, he ****d her. ****, ****, ****,” as if the word ****d was a big, biting insect that needed to be swatted and killed, he imagined the word **** passing through the crowd of women who were already angry and tired.

“Then, when he pulled down my panties, I was so humiliated when I felt his cock against my skin. I had to endure him rubbing his stiff prick all over my panty. If it weren’t for you women saving me,” he imagined her looking around at all the woman on the crowded train while smiling her thanks to them, “he would have fucked me up the ass with his cock. Look! See? His cock is already out of his pants,” he imagined her saying while pointing to his stiff prick that proved his guilt.

“Look, his cock is sticking straight out of his pants,” he imagined one woman saying while the other women bunched together around him to make a big enough clearing to see his big prick.

“God bless you all for helping me and for saving me from being violated in such a despicable way by such a mentally deranged man, a stranger no less,” he imagined her crying. “It would be one thing if he was my b*****r, my son, or my son-in-law trying to fuck me up the ass at home but he’s a stranger trying to fuck me up the ass on a crowded train.

He’s a man I’ve never seen before in my life. “

“Let’s get him,” he imagined the crowd turning on him as if he was a d***ken Red Sox fan at Yankee Stadium after having just yelled, ‘Yankees suck!’

“Let’s get the dirty pervert,” he imagined someone else saying.

“Push him down on the floor and stomp on his cock,” he imagine hearing another woman saying.

“Get the bastard.

Get him,” he imagined hearing someone else

* * * * *

Even though he was out in the open on a public train and blatantly m*****ing her, he feared being caught, arrested, convicted, prosecuted, and incarcerated. Not wanting any of that to be his reality, he took care not to be noticed. Still, even with being caught in mind, he couldn’t help himself from brushing up against her, pulling up her dress, pulling down her panties, and fucking her up the ass with his finger.

His dirty, little, secret to keep, yet with everyone possessing a cell phone, assuredly a video of him having anal sex with a woman in public on a crowded train most definitely would go viral.

He didn’t want to be caught fucking a woman up the ass in public on a train but unable to control his sexual passion for her, he was a puppet to his need for anal sex. It’s one thing to get a public hand job, it’s quite another thing to receive a public blowjob, it’s even sometimes acceptable to be caught having sexual intercourse in a public place, a park or in a club.

Yet having anal sex was as bad as being caught having i****tuous sex with your mother, your s****r, and/or your mother and s****r. With laws against sodomy in many states, to be caught having anal sex out in the open is i*****l, something that men who are caught doing can still go to jail.

The last thing that he wanted was for the other women to know that he was fucking this woman standing in front of him up the ass.

Fearing what would happen if they did, he’d have no place to run or to hide. A fear far greater than being in a squared circle with a cage fighter, being in a dark alley with a group of gangbangers, or being out in the wilderness and confronted by a mother grizzly bear with her cubs, is being stuck on a crowded train with a mob of angry, hungry, tired, and bitchy women. If caught sodomizing this woman, they’d tear him to shreds.

* * * * *

Something his wife would never allow him to do, he couldn’t believe a stranger allowed him to lift up her skirt, pull down her panties, and fuck her up her ass with his finger. Even while it was happening, he couldn’t believe she allowed him to lift her dress to her waist. Even while it was happening, he couldn’t believe she allowed him feel and fondle her panty clad ass before rubbing his cock all over her panties.

Even while it was happening, he couldn’t believe she allowed him to pull down her panties. Even while it was happening, he couldn’t believe that she allowed him to fuck her up her ass with his finger. He couldn’t believe it. His sexual dream come true, he just couldn’t believe it.

Leave it to a stranger to be so sexually adventurous to give him what he wants, anal sex, and what he needs, anal sex.

Wanting to make this a pleasurable experience for her as much it was for him, over and again, he licked his fingers to lubricate her ass before slowly and gently inserting his long, stiff, middle finger inside of her. Each time he inserted his finger, he inserted it just a little deeper and left it there just a little longer while wiggling it as if it was a lure on the end of his fishing pole while trying to attract a fish.

Each time he inserted his finger, she leaned a little more forward but, with not much room for her to move without bumping into the woman in front of her, she was just as careful not to attract anyone’s attention as was he. Obviously she wanted to remain the victim and not be deemed a consensual player.

This time, going for broke, grabbing for all the gusto, and taking his once in a lifetime opportunity in hand and in ass, no longer caring that he may be beaten to death if caught or arrested and jailed, instead of inserting his finger, he inserted his cock.

To finally have anal sex on a train with a stranger, in the way of a bear grabbing for honey in a bee’s nest, was worth the risk in being caught. A perfect fit, obviously she was no virgin to anal sex. As if she was totally lubed, his cock slid right inside of her and that told him that she’s been fucked up the ass plenty of times before, the slut. Oh, yeah, definitely, this woman was an anal whore.

Certainly, without a doubt, she’s a slut for allowing a stranger to lift up her dress. Without a doubt, she’s a tramp for allowing a stranger to pull down her panties. Absolutely she’s a whore for allowing a stranger to fuck her up the ass in public on a crowded train. Only, glad that she was a slut, a tramp, and a whore, he only wished his wife, his s****r, his mother-in-law, and/or his s****r-in-law was more like her.

For sure, they all could take a lesson from this woman in how to take care of a horny man.

Not only was he having sex in public but also he was having sex on a crowded commuter train. Not only was he having sex on a crowded commuter train but also he was having anal sex. Not only was he having anal sex but also he was having anal sex with a stranger, a stranger who he didn’t even know her name.

Moreover, except for the back of her head and her side profile, he’s yet to even see her face.

Now wondering what she looked like head on so that he could dream of her tonight, yet what did it matter what she looked like? He didn’t need to see her face. What revved his motor was seeing her naked ass. What mattered more was that he was finally having anal sex with a stranger on a train.

Going with the gentle swaying movement of the train, he was fucking her up her ass now. For the first time, a dream come true and finally living out his sexual fantasy, he was having anal sex with a stranger on the train. As if they were glued together in the way of two dogs in the street having sex, as if they were dirty dancers who rehearsed their dancing routine on Dancing with the Stars, and as if he had anal sex with her dozens of times already, he was fucking her up the ass.

As the train rocked and rolled when moving and bucked forward when starting up after stopping, keeping rhythm with the windblown train, she rocked and rolled with him too. Humping her harder and with her returning his humps, he could feel his cock sliding deeper until it was buried all the way inside of her ass. Accommodating him without being obvious so as not to be noticed, she leaned as far forward as she could for him to penetrate her even deeper.

He was fucking her now, really fucking her up her ass.

In the way that he wished he could tell his wife, he wondered if she’d go home to tell her husband, her boyfriend, her lover, her son, or her son-in-law that she had anal sex with a stranger on the train. Who knows, maybe they shared the same sexual fantasy. Maybe she always wanted to have anal sex with a stranger on the train too.

Yet, if only by the extended size of her anal cavity, he knew that this wasn’t her first time having anal sex.
He wondered her name yet perhaps better he didn’t know her name, being that he had a wife and k**s to protect, he’d rather that they just remain strangers, that is, until she was getting him off with the subtle movement and the humping motion of her ass. Oh, yeah, something he’s never done before while having anal sex, he was getting ready to cum inside of her.

With his other anal sex partners, whenever he was lucky enough to find one, never allowing him to finish, this would be the first time he ejaculated in a woman’s ass. He’s never been this far inside of a woman to get sexually excited enough to cum in a woman’s ass but now he was about to do just that.

To ejaculate in a woman’s beautiful behind, a woman who was so beautiful, so sexy, and so willing, was so much better than the whores and prostitutes that he hired for anal sex.

Without having ejaculated in their asses, the anal sex that they briefly gave him never completely satisfied him. He recalled some of the women that he hired and tried to persuade them to give him anal sex. Specifically he recalled those women, those prostitutes, who had rejected him so vehemently. He recalled Keisha, Ruby, and Ebony.

“Get that cock out my ass honkie. Keisha don’t have anal sex with anyone but her man,” said Keisha waving her black, manicured, index finger in his face as if it was a metronome keeping the beat to her words.

“Uh, uh, on no. You dig?”

“Say what Fool? You want to fuck Ruby up her ass? I don’t think so. Not today. This ass don’t fuck white men,” she said. “This ass is only reserved for black cock. Unless you have a color change, they’ll be no fucking Ruby up her ass today sugar. “

“I beg your pardon? You want to fuck me up the ass? I don’t think so,” said Ebony putting her hand to her shapely hip and lifting her nose to the ceiling.

“Fucking me up the ass will cost you more money than you have or will ever have,” said Ebony. “What’s say I just suck your cock?”

Compared to them, this beautiful woman standing before him was an angel. Compare to them, she was a model, and/or a celebrity movie stare in the way of Charlize Theron, Uma Thurman, or Robin Wright was but with tits. So close to cumming, just a little more, just a few more humps will just about do it, and he was ready to shoot a load of cum in her ass that would rival the load of cum that he routinely shot in his wife’s mouth and/or pussy.

* * * * *

Wishing it was his wife he was fucking up the ass, alas that would never be. She’d never be agreeable to having anal sex. Even when she was d***k and sound asl**p, as if somehow knowing that his cock was getting ready to take the anal plunge and that her ass was vulnerable to be so violated, she’d wake up. She must have incoming ass radar.

“What are you doing Peter?” Slurring her words, somehow she was lucid enough to know that he was about to fuck her up the ass.

“Nothing. I, um, lost my cough drop. “

“And you thought your cough drop fell in my ass? Is that it?”

“Never mind. I found it right here on the mattress. Go back to sl**p honey. “

* * * * *

Only, just as he nearly reached the point of no return, the train stopped, the lights came on, the doors opened, and she pulled away from him.

The suction he felt from his cock being buried in her ass before being so abruptly pulled out of her ass was as if pulling a cork from a bottle. He swore he heard a pop and looked down to make sure that his cock was still there and not stuck in her ass.

In an instant it was over. With his cock leaking pre-cum, he quickly tucked himself back in his pants and she lifted up her panties and pulled down her dress.

That was really something. Totally amazing and totally unexpected, that was really something. Something he’ll dream about and fantasize about for the rest of his life, he was breathless after having anal sex with a stranger on the train. He only wished he could have filled her anal cavity with his cum.

Still stunned and still reeling from the sexually excitement of finally having anal sex with a stranger on a train, he couldn’t believe what just happened.

He looked up at her while expecting her to be beautiful, as beautiful as Christie Brinkley was twenty years ago. If only by her beautiful ass, the best ass he’s ever felt and the best ass he’s ever seen, she must be beautiful. If only by the back of her beautiful head with her long, blond hair cascading down her back, and by the beautiful side profile of her beautiful face, she must be beautiful.

He couldn’t wait for her to turn around. He couldn’t wait to see her face so that he could dream about her tonight and every night for the rest of his life. Breaking his rule of sharing his identity with her to know her name, he had to know her name. Tonight when he dreamt of fucking her up her ass again, he needed to call her by something. Moreover, wanting anal sex with her to be a regular occurrence, he had to see her again.

He needed to fuck her up her ass, just one more time, at least, in her bedroom, in her bed, and with the lights on or in the dark, whichever she preferred.

“Please, before you go. Tell me your name, just your first name. I need to know your name so that I can call you by something when I dream about you tonight,” he said.

She just stood there with her back to him as if frozen in place.

Now that the lights were on in the train and the doors were open, maybe the realization that she allowed a stranger to have his wicked way with her ass was too embarrassing for her now. Now that he asked her name, maybe giving out her name, even just her first name, was something too personal, even more personal than allowing him to fuck her up the ass.

“My name is Peter,” he said while hoping that she’d turn around and respond in kind and give him her name too.

As the passengers alighted from the train, now with more room for them to move around, she turned to him, smiled, and offered him her hand. Only, instead of falling in love, he felt as if he was having a sudden heart attack. The sharp pain that traveled from his cock to his chest and through his brain to give him a sudden, excruciating headache felt as if he ate ice cream too fast.

As if a phonograph needle went across a phonograph album and made a screeching noise with a LP width scratch, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Robert, but my friends, especially those who fuck me up my ass, call me Roberta,” he said. “That was the best train ride I’ve ever had, if you know what I mean,” he said with a laugh, a wiggle, and a wink.

“Sorry,” said Peter.

“I’m so sorry. Oh, my God, you can’t believe how sorry I am. With your long, blonde hair, high heels, big tits, and dress, I thought you were a woman. I didn’t know you were a man. “

Suddenly, the song Lola by Ray Davies of the Kinks played through his mind.

“I met her in a club in North Soho where you drink champagne and it tastes like cherry cola, See-O-L-A cola.

She walked up to me and she asked me to dance. I asked her name and in a dark, brown voice she said, Lola, L-O-L-A Lola, lo, lo, lo, lo Lola. Well, I’m not the world’s most physical guy but when she squeezed me tight she nearly broke my spine, oh my Lola, lo, lo, lo, lo Lola. Well, I’m not dumb but I can’t understand why she walked like a woman and talked like a man, oh, my Lola, lo, lo, lo, lo Lola.

“It’s okay Honey,” he said. “Apparently, that was your first time having anal sex. Am I right?” When Peter didn’t answer, with Peter looking as if he was in shock and he was, he asked his question again. “Was that your first time having anal sex?”

“Yes,” said Peter too shocked to apologize further, to expand on his explanation, and/or to confess his sexual fantasy of having anal sex on a train.

“Here’s my number. Call me,” she said with a big assed smile while raising her fingers to her mouth and ear as if she was holding the receiver of a phone. “We must do this again. “

* * * * *

After fucking a man up the ass, unable to stop masturbating over the experience of having anal sex with a stranger on the train, Peter wondered if he was gay.

Who knew she was a cross dressing transsexual? Wondering if her tits were real, he couldn’t stop thinking about her or him, as the case may be. He couldn’t stop thinking about his anal, sexual encounter. He wished he had never asked her name. He wished she had not turned around.

Strange that it took a stranger to give him anal sex and for him to have the best sex of his life, it took a man to give him such sexual pleasure.

If only she was a woman instead of a man, he’d be the happiest man alive. If only she was the tall, beautiful, busty, blonde, woman that he thought she was, he’d leave his wife for her. Nonetheless, especially since he felt confident in his sexual orientation that he wasn’t a gay man, assuredly, without doubt, he wasn’t a gay man, unable to get her or him out of his head, he called Roberta to ask her if they could have anal sex again.

Peter telephones Robert for anal sex to finish what he started on the train.


“Hi Robert. This is Peter. I, um, met you on the—”

“I know who you are Peter,” said Robert. “It’s not every day that a stranger pulls up my dress, pulls down my panties, and fucks me up the ass on a crowded train,” he said with a laugh. “Please call me Roberta. “

“I was just wondering Roberta, if I, um, if we could—”

“If you could fuck me up the ass again?” Roberta laughed while Peter remained silent on the other end of the line.

Making him feel uncomfortable, Peter nearly hung up the phone when he said, “If you could fuck me up the ass again. “

In the way he said fucking him up the ass, still a bit reluctant over having gay sex, it sounded so gay, too gay to make him want to even continue the conversation never mind the gay act of having anal sex with a man. How dare he say that? He wasn’t gay, not at all, just curious.

Yeah, if he was anything at all, he was bisexually curious.

As if he slapped him across the face or had a bucket of cold water dumped on his head, confronting the reality of what he did with him on a crowded train, the words startled him as well as upset him. He never thought of himself as a gay man but now confronted by it and putting a name to it, maybe he was.

Thinking that he was drawn to a tall, blonde, beautiful, busty woman on the train, now he wondered if perhaps sub-consciously, he knew that Roberta wasn’t a woman but a man. Recalling how she looked standing there wearing a dress, high heels, and with her long, blonde hair cascading down her back, definitely, from behind she looked like a woman, especially when the lights on the train were dim when not out entirely. Even from the side, especially with her big tits, he’d never think she was a man.

“Being that I’m a man, a heterosexual, married man with c***dren, and with you being a man too, I’m uncomfortable having sex with a man but—”

“But what Honey? You’re not really gay? Is that it Peter? You expect me to believe you didn’t know that I was a man? I look good dressed as a woman Sugar, but even I know that I don’t look that good to fool a man who’s not gay to fuck me up my ass.

Obviously, with Peter having fooled himself long enough and with Robert or Roberta, whatever his or her name was, able to see right through him, there was no fooling him or her.

“No, I mean, yeah but—”

“But what? You really weren’t comfortable having anal sex with a stranger on a crowded train, especially after discovering that you fucked a man up the ass instead of a woman,” said Roberta with another laugh, this time a little louder.

“Yeah, something like that,” said Peter regretting he had called him and wishing he’d stop saying that he fucked him up the ass.

Now all that he could think of is that he was a gay man. All that he could think of is what two gay men do when having gay, anal sex. All he could think of was being ****d by another man in prison. All he could think of was nasty, homosexual thoughts, instead of sexually exciting heterosexual ones.

Yet, surprising even himself, the nasty homosexual thoughts sexually excited him in a way that he’s never been as sexually excited before. What the Hell was that about? Maybe he really was gay.

“Oh, please, I wish I had a dollar every time a man told me that he wasn’t gay while he sucked my cock, while I sucked his cock, while he fucked me up the ass, or when I fucked him up the ass,” said Roberta.

“Gay, gay, gay, forget about this bi-sexual shit, I subscribe to the Jerry Springer definition of gay. If you suck a cock, you’re gay. If you allow a man to suck your cock, you’re gay. If you fuck a man up his ass, you’re gay and if you allow another man to fuck you up your ass, you’re gay. Gay, gay, gay, being gay is as clearly defined in definition as being heterosexual. Trust me Peter, being a gay man myself and having been around gay men all of my life, I know you’re gay.

“Yeah, well, with apologies to Jerry Springer and apart from your description of what’s gay and what’s not, I’m not gay. I’m really not. I really did think you were a woman,” said Peter while wondering if he was being honest with himself. “Having anal sex with you was my first gay experience but—”

“But what? That didn’t count because you thought I was a woman, a beautiful, blonde with big tits, is that it?”

Plausible enough to unlock and open his closed closet door before slamming it shut, his way back in the closet, it sounded good to him, thought Peter.

“Yeah,” said Peter.

Roberta laughed a loud laugh, almost a cackle that made him want to choke him for pulling him out of the security of his closet or hit him for holding up a gay mirror to his face. Not expecting to have such a revealingly disturbing conversation, he just wanted to have anal sex with the man he thought was a woman, go home, and never call him again.

The excuse so he told himself and truly believed, apparently now whether man or woman, he just needed to know what it felt like to cum in someone’s ass, return to his wife and life as a heterosexual man, and put all of this behind him. Yet, with Peter now knowing that Roberta was a man and not a woman and with him still telephone him for a date, moreover, with Robert stating that Peter was gay, he wondered if, indeed, he was gay.

“So, you expect me to believe that it was all just mistaken identity and that my ass could have been anyone’s ass, specifically a woman’s ass. So long as I stood there and didn’t turn around as I did on the train when you pulled up my dress and pulled down my panties, we’re all good. Is that right? Typical,” said Roberta. “You’re so typical of all the men that I meet still hiding in the closet Peter.

“Yes,” said Peter again keeping his responses to one word and one syllable before apologizing. “I’m sorry. “

Still wanting to hang up and not knowing why he didn’t, Peter was uncomfortable with the conversation.

“Sorry? What are you sorry about?”

Unable to admit even to himself, especially to himself, Peter was sorry that he discovered that he was evidentially and so obviously gay. Gay, gay, gay, he was gay.

No doubt about it, but angry that he was, Peter was gay. He was as dizzy as he was confused by the revelation that he may be gay. He never realized and always swept his gayness beneath the rug whenever he had gay thoughts that weren’t appropriate for a heterosexual man to have. He didn’t understand how he could live his life as a heterosexual man without knowing and/or even suspecting that he was gay, that is, until now.

“I’m sorry for having anal sex with you,” said Peter.

He wished that Robert would be insulted enough to hang up on him and end his folly into gay sex prematurely, when he was unable to stop this from happening himself. Actually, he wasn’t sorry for having anal sex with Robert, the best sex he’s had in a long time, he only wished he had the time enough to ejaculate before the lights came on and the doors opened on the commuter train.

Had he ejaculated in his ass on the train, he wouldn’t be in this sticky situation now in confronting his true sexual orientation.

“Don’t be sorry. I had a good time,” he said with a laugh.

Peter remained quiet for a long minute while wrapping his head around the disturbing reality that he showed another man an anal good time by having anal sex with him.

“It’s just all so confusing to me,” said Peter.

Always having negative connotations about gay men and now totally changing his perspective about his sexual orientation, he couldn’t believe that he was a gay man too.

“Would you like to come over,” he said pausing to let out a dramatic sigh, “to talk?”

Peter read between the lines. In the way that Roberta sighed was as if he had done this a hundred times before, invited strange men to his apartment for sex, and was bored with it.

With Roberta’s sigh giving Peter a bit of insight into the life of a gay man, he wondered if their lives were too much about sex. Yet, as a heterosexual man, his life was all about sex, repressed sex, frustrated sexual thoughts, and always wanting to have sex but seldom having sex. If judging a gay man by how he felt, definitely gay men had more sex than he did.

What he wanted to do from the start, now Peter wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for him to go to another man’s apartment, a gay man’s apartment, with the expressed intention to have anal sex with him.

Too revealingly real, what if, when he got there, he wanted to do more and did more than just having anal sex with Robert? What if he suddenly had the urge to kiss Robert? What if he suddenly had the urge to suck Robert’s cock or agreed to have him suck his cock. After already having anal sex with Robert, what if he agreed to allow Robert to fuck him up his ass?

“Yes,” said Peter unable to decline the invitation.

“I’d like to come over,” he said with a pause in the way that Robert paused but without the dramatic sigh, “to talk. “

It was one thing to have sudden, spontaneous, anal sex on a train with who he thought was a woman but it was quite another thing for him to have a planned sexual affair that was initiated by him especially after knowing that Robert wasn’t a woman but a man.

Now with his hand already played and his cards face up on the table, all in, more than curious to know if he really was gay, Peter wondered what would happen if he was to accept Robert’s invitation and go to his apartment.

“My address is on the other side of that card that I gave you. The number on the card that you called me on is to my cell phone number.

I work out of my house and I don’t usually give that number to anyone but you had a great way of introducing yourself by making a big and hard, I might add, impression on me,” said Robert laughing.

This was all getting too real. Nonetheless sexually excited by the thought of having anal sex again, Peter couldn’t say no. Now that he knows that Robert is a man and not a woman, feeling more comfortable calling him Roberta than Robert, he’ll just have to close his eyes to the fact that Roberta is a man.

Not a difficult thing to do in the way the Robert really looked like a woman when dressed in drag, so long as he didn’t have to face him and feel Robert’s cock pressing up against him, he’d just have anal sex with him and leave.


Peter tried to think what day next week was good for their little, gay, sexual rendezvous. Figuring that he’d make the date, masturbate over having anal sex with Roberta, and not show up on that day, it wasn’t as if Robert was privy to his phone number when he was calling him from a payphone.

“When what? When did you make a big impression on me?” He laughed. “Duh, on the train silly. “

He wasn’t sure if Robert knew what he meant or that he was making fun of him.

“No. When should I come to your house?”

Trying to think of what he had planned next week, he couldn’t concentrate on anything but having anal sex with Roberta again. Hoping that Roberta gave him enough notice, he wondered what he’d tell his wife, Christine, for him to get out of the house for a few hours.

“What are you doing now?”

Now? He wants him to come over now? Seriously now? All too real, he was as sexually excited as he was reluctant to continue having gay sex, especially now knowing that Robert was a man and not a woman.


His sexual excitement overruled his reluctance to have gay sex with a man.

“Yes, now,” said Robert.

Peter couldn’t believe he was really through this and really going to do this.

“Nothing. Other than talking to you, I’m not doing anything now,” said Peter.

Holding his breath in anticipation of Robert extending an invitation for Peter to come over now, he waited for Roberta to respond.

“Then, get your beautiful cock over here and I’ll stroke you and suck you before you fuck me up the ass. Who knows, a first time for everything, being that you’re not a gay man, maybe I can convince you to suck me too,” said Roberta with a laugh.

It was one thing for him to have anal sex with a man especially when he thought she was a woman but he couldn’t imagine himself on his knees and sucking the cock of another man in the way that his wife sucked his cock.

“Suck you? Seriously? You expect me to suck you?”

“Yes,” said Robert. “That’s part of what I do when having sex as a gay man,” he laughed the cackling laugh again.

“I suck and then I fuck. You suck and then you fuck. “

“No, I don’t think so. Sorry but I’d never suck another man’s cock,” said Peter showing his disgust for oral sex in his voice. “I’d never allow another man to cum in my mouth.

Nonetheless, Peter’s cock throbbed at the thought of blowing Robert. Immediately suppressing the thought, he thought of his wife naked and on her knees sucking him.

When that wasn’t enough to quell his homosexual, sexual excitement, he thought of baseball.

“Another man? Meaning that you’ve sucked your own cock?”

Sucked my own cock? How could I suck my own cock? This man is crazy.


Maybe flexible enough, now he wondered if Robert sucked his own cock.

“You said that you’d never suck another man’s cock meaning that you’ve already sucked a man’s cock, your cock, with no one else to suck while still claiming that you’ve never sucked another man’s cock,” said Robert obviously taking pleasure in having some fun with Peter.

Peter couldn’t help but imagine himself on his bed naked, while trying to contort his body enough to put his erection in his mouth. He wondered if that would be considered gay to suck his own cock. Probably it would. If he could suck his own cock, he wouldn’t need Robert. If he could suck his own cock, he wouldn’t need to have sex with his wife. Yet, anal sex would still be a problem.

Certainly, no matter how he tried and how he twisted and contorted his body, he could never fuck himself up his ass. Inspired and encouraged by what Robert said about him sucking his own cock, he couldn’t believe that he was having all of these gay thoughts.

“Sucked my cock? No, I’ve never sucked my cock. As a k** I couldn’t even bite my toenails,” said Peter with a nervous laugh.

“Eww, bite your own toenails? That’s too much information,” said Robert.

“It was difficult enough for me to call you about having anal sex with you again,” said Peter. “I’d never suck your cock Robert. “

“Roberta please,” said Robert.


“Call me Roberta. I prefer you call me Roberta instead of Robert,” said Robert. “One day soon after my sex change operation, Roberta will be my legal name. “

“Sorry, Roberta,” said Peter.

“Well, if you won’t suck my cock, at least you’re willing to fuck me up the ass.

A girl must take what she can get,” said Roberta.

* * * * *

Peter went to the address on the card and rang the doorbell.

“Who is it?”

Who is it? Who does he think it is? Who else would it be? He just got off the phone with him. Maybe he has a lot of boyfriends, thought Peter.

“It’s me. Peter. “

Even with his sexual excitement overruling his commonsense enough to preserve his heterosexuality, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was making a mistake, a big mistake.

“Come on up. I’m on the fourth floor. Sorry, we don’t have an elevator. Now you know why my ass is so hot,” said Roberta laughing.

“Okay,” said Peter suddenly feeling uncomfortable enough again not to encourage him by responding to the banter.

Roberta buzzed Peter inside and he climbed the four flights of stairs as if he was slowly climbing the Tower of London to go for his incarceration before being beheaded at his execution.

Finally reaching the top a little out of breath in the way that Jane Fonda and Robert Redford as Paul and Corie Bratter were when climbing to their top floor apartment in Barefoot in the Park, he knocked on the door.

“Come in. Come in. The door is open,” said Roberta emerging from her open door to stand in front of it. “My door is always open,” said Roberta with the flair of a Broadway actor onstage.

Peter looked up to see Roberta striking her helpless pose as if he was Oscar Wilde.

“Your door is always open? In this neighborhood,” said Peter with a laugh. “Hi,” said Peter finally making it to the top.

“Yes, without exception, my door is always open to a fellow gay man who f***es me to have his wicked anal way with by poor helpless body,” said Roberta putting the back of her hand to her forehead as if she was Scarlett O’Hara played by Vivian Leigh in Gone With the Wind.

“I’m not gay,” he said this time not as confident as he was before.

Standing there in a sweatshirt, jeans, a Chicago Cubs baseball cap, and sneakers as if he was one of the guys meeting to go out for a beer or to play some touch football, he looked nothing like he did when he was a passenger on the commuter train. If Peter saw Robert on the street, he’d never think he was a gay man, that is, until he walked in talked in the way that Nathan Lane played a gay man in The Birdcage with Robin Williams.

“How are you?” Peter held out his hand. “It’s so nice to officially meet you. “

When Robert took his hand, Peter was relieved that he didn’t lean in to kiss him hello.

“I’d kiss you,” he said as if reading his mind. “But I don’t want to scare you off,” said Roberta bypassing his hand to give Peter a hug. “Being that you’re new to being gay and just now emerging from out of the closet, I’ll just hug you instead of feeling your ass,” he said with a laugh while grabbing two handfuls of Peter’s ass.

“What the Hell? Being that you had your wicked way feeling my ass, the least that I can do is to reciprocate by feeling your ass too. “

In the way that Roberta must have felt his cock humping his ass on the train, Peter felt Robert’s cock humping his stomach through his pants. Not wanting to be humped in the way that he’s humped so very many women in public, when he felt his skin beginning to crawl, involuntarily, he pulled away from Robert’s to sexually intimate hug.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to bite you,” she said. “I just wanted to hug you. ” He looked down at his erection. “Sorry about my cock. Robert is always so horny. “

“Robert? You named your cock Robert?”

“Doesn’t everyone name their cocks?”

“No,” said Peter. “I didn’t. “

“Well?” Robert stared at Peter in the way that Peter stared at Robert.

“Well what?”

As if sizing up one another, both men continued staring at one another.

“Are you just going to stand there while showing me your reluctance in being here before bolting out my open front door?”

His final chance to stay or flee and make good his escape from becoming a gay man, Peter looked at Robert with trepidation.

“Sorry. All of this is new to me. I’ve never been with a man before,” said Peter. “I don’t know what to do or say.

“Correction,” laughed Robert. “You’ve already been with a man after fucking me up the ass with your cock,” she said reaching out to squeeze his cock through his pants. “Now take off those pants. I want to see what I missed seeing before on the train. “

“My pants?” Peter stood there and looked down at his pants before looking up at Robert.

“Unless you plan on having anal sex with me without removing your clothes, you need to get naked Peter.

This was it. The point of no return. Once he removed his pants, if only in his mind, he’d be officially and forever gay.

“Okay, yeah, sure,” he said, unbuttoning, unzipping, and kicking off his shoes before removing his pants.

“You’re underwear too,” said Robert.

With a finger to his discriminating nose, he stared at Peter as if he was Julia c***d played by Meryl Streep in Julie & Julia while watching a student prepare a French recipe under her tutelage instead of watching the impromptu striptease show.

“Okay,” said Peter sliding down his underwear. He covered his erection with his hand.

“Don’t be shy,” said Robert. “Take your hand away,” he said pulling at Peter’s wrist. “Let me have a look at your cock. I always like to know what I’m sucking and fucking before I suck and fuck. Yet, already one up on me, you totally caught me by surprise when you stuck this monster up my ass.

“It’s just a cock. I’m sure you’ve seen lots of cocks before, bigger and better than mine,” said Peter.

Peter moved his hand away to stand before Robert naked not only physically but also emotionally. He felt so vulnerable. He felt so frightened. He’s never felt so alive.

“Some heterosexual you are,” said Robert. “You already have an erection,” he said walking closer to Peter. “Let Mommy see your big prick,” she said.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortably creepy, Peter tensed himself by what was about to happen.

“Other than my doctor, no man has ever touched my cock before,” said Peter relaxing his hand and putting his arms by his sides as if he was having a physical exam before being inducted in the military.

As if waiting to have his tooth pulled by the dentist, Peter grimaced.

“Relax,” said Robert.

“You have a nice prick,” she said taking him in her hand. “Normally I make out with a man before taking his cock in my hand but don’t worry, I won’t kiss you. I’ll just touch you, feel you, and grope you in the way that you touched, felt, and groped me on the train,” said Robert laughing loudly again.

Robert stroked Peter’s cock long enough for him to get an even stiffer erection.

“This is weird,” said Peter, “so very weird. “

“Weird? What’s so weird? That you have an erection within just a few seconds of me stroking you?” He laughed while leaning closer into him. “I promise not to tell anyone Peter that you’re a gay man masquerading as a married, heterosexual man. “

“I’m not gay,” said Peter. “I like women. I love women. I lust over women. “

Only, right now, Peter couldn’t think of any women that he’d rather be with than Robert masquerading as Roberta.

“Shall I give you a gay test?”

Peter imagined being blindfolded and bound to Robert’s bed.

“A gay test? There’s no such thing as a gay test. ” Doubting that there was, Peter wondered if there was. “Is there?”

Equally as sexually excited by the thought of being blindfolded and bound to Robert’s bed, with him already standing there naked in a gay man’s apartment, he felt a little repulsed by the thought of being sexually used and abused by a man as he did sexually aroused.

“Actually there is a gay test and it comes in handy at a time like this,” said Robert.

“Go ahead. I’m game,” said Peter. “Give me the test. “

“Okay. Name six of your favorite female singers,” said Roberta.

“Six? I’m not sure if I can even think of one at a time like this,” said Peter feeling awkwardly uncomfortable standing naked in front of a man.

“Try,” said Roberta.

“Okay,” said Peter. “Cher, of course. I love her,” he said holding up his hand to count on his fingers. “Bette Midler, Madonna, oh, I know, Lisa Minnelli, and her mother Judy Garland. I love them both,” said Peter looking at Roberta while giving her and uncomfortable smile.

“That’s five,” said Robert. “Do you have one more?”

“Saving the best for last, I do,” said Peter.

“The queen of song, Barbara Streisand. “

As if a conductor leading a symphony orchestra, Robert used his index finger to accentuate his words.

“Gay, gay, gay, gay, gay, and gay. All of those female singers have a huge following of gay men,” said Robert with a laugh. “No doubt about it Peter. Simple as that, you’re gay. “

As if asking for a recount after losing a political election, Peter looked at Robert with doubt that he was gay.

“Is that it? Is that the gay test? That’s not much of a test,” said Peter. “Just because I like certain female singers doesn’t prove that I’m gay. “

“Let me ask you this then,” said Robert giving Peter a smile.

“What?” Peter looked at him with curiosity.

“Do you have a pink shirt?”

“Doesn’t everyone? Having a pink shirt doesn’t mean that I’m gay,” said Peter.

“Okay, forget about the pink shirt, tell me this then. “


“What’s your favorite color?”

“My favorite color? Is this a trick question? Are you expecting me to say chartreuse?”

“No,” said Robert. “Go on, tell me. What’s your favorite color?”

“Periwinkle,” said Peter without even thinking.

“Periwinkle? Seriously? Your favorite color is periwinkle?” Robert laughed. “Never mind a color, straight men don’t even know what periwinkle is.

Straight men no doubt think that periwinkle is a shell fish to eat in the way of snails,” said Roberta.

“I, um, used to have a big box of Crayola crayons, the 64 colors with the built-in sharpener,” using that as his excuse in his defense. “I used to love to color. I found that very relaxing and periwinkle has always been my favorite color, in the way of a slate or cornflower blue.

“Gay. You’re as gay as an interior designer to be able to identify more than one shade of blue when the average heterosexual man would describe just blue for everything that’s blue, from jeans to cars,” said Roberta. “Periwinkle is a gay answer and you’re a gay man. “

“Periwinkle is not a gay answer and I am not a gay man,” said Peter.

“Okay? Then, who’s your favorite female movie star?”

“Marlene Dietrich,” said Peter without thinking.

“Marlene Dietrich? Unbelievable,” said Roberta laughing at Peter’s answer. “How about a male movie star?”

“Rock Hudson,” said Peter with pride.

“Oh, you’re making this test way too easy,” said Roberta laughing again. “You do know that Rock Hudson was gay, right? And that he died of AIDS?”

Peter looked at Roberta as if he was lying while trying to remember what he heard about Rock Hudson.

“Rock was gay? No, I didn’t know that.

I didn’t know his sexual orientation and it wouldn’t matter to me. Growing up watching old movies on TV, I just liked his movies and I enjoyed how he interacted with Doris Day and Tony Randall,” said Peter.

“It’s okay. You can be as gay as you want with me. Your gayness will be our little secret,” said Robert with a laugh.

Peter looked at him with curiosity.

“Aren’t you going to take that off your clothes so that we can have anal sex?” Peter looked at Robert as if he was anxious to get this over with and get the Hell out of there.

“You can always pull down my jeans in the way you pulled down my panty and bend me forward in the way that you did in the train,” laughed Robert.

Peter imagined Robert wearing panties. Wondering which color panties he was wearing, white, yellow, red, blue, green, purple, or black, he hoped he was wearing blue panties, his favorite color. In the way that he was wearing blue, cotton, bikini panties on the train, he hoped he was wearing blue, cotton, bikini panties, now.

“Are you wearing panties now?” Peter looked at Robert with lust.

“No, not at the moment. I’m wearing briefs, white briefs for support of my package,” he said grabbing himself as if he was Michael Jackson.

“Oh,” said Peter.

“Besides, what’s the rush? I want to suck you a little first,” he said falling to his knees to take Peter’s cock in his mouth.

Suddenly Peter’s cock went soft.

“Sorry,” he said after watching Robert unsuccessfully stroking him and sucking him. “Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe I should go,” said Peter looking down at himself. “Obviously you were wrong about me being gay. “

“Give me a minute,” said Robert standing. “Having been through this lots of times before, I know what’s wrong. “

“You do? What?”

“Trust me. I’ll be back in a jiffy,” said Robert wiggling his ass out of the room.

Peter finally meets Roberta again, the love of his life.

In just a few minutes, Robert returned to the room dressed as Roberta. Giving him a sexy cross dressing show, by her feminine antics and charms, she obviously enjoyed being watched by Peter. With a shake of her head and with a flourish, as if releasing her sword in Zorro, the gay blade, she released her long, blonde hair pinned to her head by a barrette.

Her hair, as if a curtain on a Broadway stage fell down her back and behind her. In an instant, she transformed herself from a man, to looking like a nerdy, private secretary, and into revealing herself as a sexy bimbo.

Instead of covering and hiding her big breasts with an oversized sweatshirt, she wore a bra, makeup, and a long, flowing, low cut, colorful gown. Now she looked just as beautiful as she did on the commuter train.

Even head on, while standing face to face, if he didn’t know that Roberta was a man, he’d never guess that she wasn’t a woman.

“Wow,” said Peter. “That’s some sexy transformation. How did you accomplish that in just a few minutes? I can’t believe it’s you, Robert. “

“Roberta, if you please,” she said with a flirtatious smile.

But for her big brassiere, he couldn’t help but notice that Roberta wasn’t wearing any underwear and his cock was already making a stiff appearance beneath his feminine gown, no doubt, in anticipation of having sex with Peter.

Now as if Peter was a woman and Robert the man, he was uncomfortable seeing Robert’s cock sticking straight out at him as if pointing to him and choosing him as that special someone. In the way she appeared before him as a woman, albeit a pre-op, transsexual woman, he wished she had a vagina instead of a cock.

“Is this better?” Roberta twirled around as if she was a dancer on Dancing with the Stars.

Feeling much more comfortable, albeit even after seeing the stiff impression of Robert’s cock poking out his gown, Peter felt his cock stiffen by the mere fact that Robert looked so much like a feminine woman instead of a manly man. Easier for him to justify having gay sex when he fooled himself into thinking that he was having sex with a woman instead of a man, he felt better about having seemingly heterosexual sex with Roberta than he did in having gay sex with Robert.

“Yes,” said Peter. “You really do make for a beautiful woman. “

“How about from the back?” Roberta turned around, leaned forward, pulled her gown tighter around her, and wiggled her ass as she did on the train when grinding her firm, round buttocks into his cock. “How do I look now?”

Peter’s cock involuntarily throbbed and pulsated when Roberta wiggled her ass like that.

“Not only are you a beautiful woman from the back but also from the front too.

Don’t tell my wife, that is, if you were to ever meet her, but you’re much better looking than she is. I’m sad to say, now that I see you in the light, you look more feminine than my wife does too. Now that I think about it, comparing you to my wife, my wife is a little more masculine looking than you,” said Peter laughing.

Never considering the thought before, now with him nearly out of his closed closet, he wondered if he had chosen a more masculine woman as a wife because he was more sexually attracted to males instead of females.

“Good to know, your comments are as complimentary as they are interesting and revealing,” said Roberta. “It’s gratifying for me to be appreciated when working so hard with all the subtle and not so subtle things that I do to look more like a woman than a man. “

Peter stared at her as if staring at a real woman instead of staring at a cross dressing man.

“Now I can see how I could be so fooled into thinking that you were a woman,” said Peter.

“Even looking at you now while knowing full well that you’re a man, I’d never believe that you’re not a woman. “

Suddenly, unable to control his lustful thoughts, in the way that she looked so beautiful now, he wished Roberta was his wife instead of the woman he married. Suppressing his homosexual thoughts before, he didn’t bother to suppress them now. Easily, he could be gay for someone who looked like her? Only, what happens when she doesn’t want to get all dolled up in her cross dressing outfits? What if she doesn’t want to bother fixing her hair and putting on makeup?

Surely she doesn’t go through the trouble of dressing like this all day, every day, like a woman instead of a man, does she? What happens when Robert wants to pile and pin his hair beneath his Chicago Cubs baseball cap, throw on jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers to go to Home Depot or to a ballgame and do what guys generally do on a weekend? When out and about with her and especially when with other men who aren’t as enlightened about homosexuality and/or bisexuality, no doubt perhaps, suspecting that Robert was a cross dresser, he didn’t know how he’d react to being out and seen in public with a transsexual.

He couldn’t possibly know how he’d confront that reality until he faced it.

“Thank you,” said Roberta. “I’ll take that as a compliment. “

Realizing now how he was so fooled on the commuter train, he couldn’t believe how much Robert looked like, talked like, walked like, and acted like a woman. She was so stunningly beautiful. She was so sexy. And she still had that incredible ass, the best as he’s ever seen, touched, and felt on any woman.

“I love your hair,” he said touching her long, blonde hair. “It looks so real. It feels real too,” he said pulling out a handful of her golden strands before allowing them to magically fall back in place.

“That’s because it is my hair. It’s real hair,” said Roberta putting her hair back in place with an experienced hand. “It’s all my hair. I tuck it up and pin it beneath my baseball cap so that no one knows that I’m a trans woman.

“It is really? That’s all your hair. No way,” said Peter touching her hair again. “That’s all your hair with no extensions? Wow!”

“Yes, it’s all my hair and without extensions. I love my hair,” she said. “The best part of me besides my blue eyes, big breasts, and shapely ass, I make for a much better woman than I ever did as a man. If I say so myself, I make for a much better looking woman than do most women,” she said with a laugh.

“Trans woman?” Peter looked at Roberta with as much curiosity as he did with interest. “What’s that?”

“For your information, just so you know who I am, I’m more than just a cross dresser. I’m more than just a transvestite. I’m transgender. I more associate with being female than I do with being male, I always have. My brain thinks I’m a woman and so don’t I,” she said. “My problem is in convincing everyone else to think the same way about me as I do about myself,” she said with sadness.

“I see,” said Peter.

Peter stared at her as if clearly seeing her for the first time. He liked the fact that she wasn’t just a transvestite, so to speak, but a trans woman, a transgendered male who believes that she’s a woman inside. It’s the fact that she believes that she’s a woman is the reason why she so fooled him, convinced him, and beguiled him into thinking that she is.

More than just a man dressing like a woman as if in costume, she walks, she talks, and she acts like a woman. More natural for her to act female instead of masquerading as a male, her brain is encoded female rather than male.

If she looked this good now, he wondered what she’d be like and look like after taking more estrogen and after having the sex change operation. For him to fall in love with someone who looked like her, someone who really wasn’t a woman yet, he wondered if he could put all of that aside and forget that she was born a man.

He wondered if he’d be considered a gay man when being with a man who changed his sex from male to female.

With her already being a woman mentally and emotionally, he wondered if she’d want him after becoming a woman physically. Maybe wanting someone else, someone better looking, someone younger, someone taller, someone more understanding, and someone who wasn’t already married, perhaps she’d be the one to reject him instead of him rejecting her.

Suddenly he was jealous over someone else making her their woman.

“Yes it’s all my hair,” she said again and this time reaching around herself to run her hands through her hair that now rested on her shoulders and cascaded down and over her big breasts.

If there was really was such a person as Lady Godiva, imagining Roberta naked after her sex change operation, then that woman would be Roberta.

She shook her head and tossed her hair again in the way that so many sexy women do when they have long, beautiful hair.

“Wow. That’s so hot,” said Peter. “I’ve always liked how women do that. “

“Do what?”

“Toss their hair like that. That’s so sexy,” said Peter.

“Like this?” Roberta tossed her hair again.

“Yes, just like that. Boy, if you ever want to drive me crazy, do that when giving me a sexy look with those, big, baby blues,” he said smiling as if he was smiling at a woman instead of a man.

“Do that before giving me a blowjob,” he said giving her a sexy look.

Moving her finger to her lip before taking it in her mouth to suck it, she returned his sexy look.

“Speaking of blowjobs, how about that blowjob now? Are you ready for me to suck you,” said Roberta enticing him and teasing him by tossing her hair again while giving him a sexy look with her big, baby blues.

Suddenly Peter had this overwhelming urge to make love to Roberta as if she was a real woman instead of a cross dressing, transgendered man. Controlling the urge, in the way that he’d do with any woman who offered to suck his cock, Peter looked at Roberta as if he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her while touching and feeling her everywhere. Unfortunately what held him back in showing his affection, his lustful, sexual desire, and his appreciation in receiving a blowjob from her was the fact that he knew beneath the clothes, the hair, and the makeup that she was a man masquerading as a woman.

Even though he tried to understand her being transgendered, with black and white and man or woman getting in the way of his sexuality, he couldn’t possibly even understand how she felt as a woman trapped in a man’s body.

A rollercoaster ride of confused emotions and sexual excitement, going from how he felt as a heterosexual man with a beautiful woman to how he felt as a gay man with a cross dressing, transgendered male, to say the least, was confusing.

Yet, it was enough that he was here now willing to have anal sex with Roberta again but, with all of this other stuff, having Roberta suck him and whatever else was on her sexual agenda for today was all uncharted ground in Peter’s new journey into gay sex and homosexuality. Only going so far for right now, he wondered how far he’d go with the sexual dream that Roberta was a beautiful woman instead of a man.

Being that she seemingly was more female than male when dressed as a woman or more male than female when dressed as a man, anal sex and perhaps a blowjob seemed to be the only thing he’d be willing to do with her. Even kissing her seemed out of the question.

He wished he had met her after her sex change operation. He wished he didn’t know that she was a man who was a woman inside.

Yet, then, he never would have confronted his true, sexual identity and sexual orientation had he met her after her sex change operation. Obviously for him to be here now in Robert’s apartment, he was a gay man masquerading as a straight man as much as Robert was a gay man masquerading as a heterosexual woman. Two of a kind, with both of them masking their real identities, albeit with Robert being more honest and open in who he was than Peter admitting who he was, they were a good match for one another.

“Yes, I’d like for you to suck me,” said Peter putting a gentle hand to the back of Roberta’s blonde head as soon as she fell to her knees and took him in her mouth.

She started sucking him again. Only, unlike when Peter got an erection when Roberta stroked him on the train and when Robert stroked him earlier, oddly enough, he wasn’t getting an erection now when Roberta was sucking him.

With Peter now knowing full well that Roberta was a man, even though she looked like and acted so much like a woman, obviously having gay sex was making him uncomfortable. With the bigger picture in that he was coming to the realization that he was a gay man when he thought he was a heterosexual man all of this time, he was as tormented as he was confused. Unable to wrap his brain around it, he needed time to make the sexual delineation and to make the sexual adjustment in his mind.

“What’s wrong?” Roberta looked up at him with his big, blue eyes and smiled while Peter looked down at Robert with confusion.

Knowing that Roberta was a man but with him looking so much like a woman was confusing him as much as it was sexually exciting him.

“Um, I don’t know where to put my hands,” said Peter while wishing that Robert had tits, big tits, in the way that he thought she had big tits on the commuter train instead of just a big, padded bra.

He couldn’t remove the thoughts from his mind of Roberta being a man, even though he seemingly looked so much like a woman. He couldn’t help but think of former Miss Venezuela, the newly crowned Miss Universe, Gabriela Isler, a transgender beauty queen being born a man but looking so much like a woman. Unable to continue the fantasy of Roberta, the fact remained that he was getting a blowjob from a man and not from a woman.

Or being that Robert was all woman inside, just not physically on the outside, maybe he really was getting a blowjob from a woman and not from a man. Discombobulated and so thrown out of his comfort zone, was he a she or was she a he, he didn’t know what to think or even how to react to his new found sexuality.

“Where do you normally put your hands when receiving a blowjob from a woman?”

Roberta gave him a look as if he was more trouble than he was fun and more of a problem than he was worth.

Ignoring her look, Peter looked down at Roberta’s big breasts while wondering if they were real or just a deception that were padded in a giant bra.

“I usually place my hands on her tits. I usually fondle her tits while fingering her nipples,” said Peter hinting that he wished he could feel Roberta big breasts.

Enabling him to continue his fantasy, he wished she had breasts. Accustomed to feeling breasts in his hand and fingering nipples while he was receiving a blowjob, he didn’t want to ruin his sexual fantasy by feeling a man’s flat chest while playing with another man’s puny nipples.

Suddenly hearing the Village People singing YMCA, he didn’t want to be with a man. He’d much rather be with a woman. Yet, if he was, indeed, a gay man, as Robert told him that he was, then by having sex with a transsexual, the best of both worlds, Peter was having his cake and eating it too.

“Knock yourself out,” said Roberta rolling her eyes while removing her arms from her robe and allowing her robe to fall to her waist before unhooking and removing her bra.

“Wow! Holy shit you have tits,” he said looking from Roberta’s big breasts to look up at her face before staring down at her big breasts again. “I can’t believe it. You have way better tits than my wife. You have spectacular breasts,” he said. “I wish my wife had a breasts like your breasts,” he said looking from her tits to look up at her. “Are you k**ding me? Are they real?”

Peter stared at Roberta’s breasts again as if seeing a woman’s breasts for the first time.

“Real? It depends what you mean by real,” said Roberta laughing. “In this age of computer technology, is anything real today? My breasts are as real as the breasts of many Hollywood celebrities. From Christina Aguilera to Nicole Ritchie to Fergie to Halley Berry to Heidi Montag to Tara Reid to Kaley Cuoco, they are the best breasts that money can buy,” said Roberta.

“I see,” said Peter. “So they’re silicone, a plastic surgeons idea of what all women’s breasts should look like.


“Duh? What do you think? Of course they’re silicone,” laughed Roberta. “I’m a pre-op transgendered male and when I started developing breasts with the hormone injections they gave me, my hormonal breasts looked nothing like these,” she said with as much attitude as he said with pride. “It took a plastic surgeon to give me what I wanted. “

“Wow! You have better breasts than Jamie Curtis in Trading Places and Haley Berry in Swordfish,” said Peter.

“With the money that I spent on the breast implants, I should have put that money to the sex change operation but I couldn’t wait to have my own set of tits,” she said cupping her breasts in her hands while smiling. “I love my big tits,” she said. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. I love your big tits,” said Peter. “May I?”

“Of course you may,” she said sticking out her chest for the examination and hands on inspection of his horny hands.

“Feel free to touch them, feel them, fondle them, and caress them. That’s what they’re for,” said Roberta.

“Amazing. Your tits are just so amazing,” said Peter moving his hands all over Roberta’s big breasts. “Perfectly symmetrical, they are so round and so firm, yet so soft. “

He looked at Roberta as if seeing her in a whole, new light.

“I hope to have the sex change operation done soon.

I’ve already aced the psychiatric exam. My dream come true, I just need to come up with the money to transform myself from Robert to Roberta,” said Roberta looking up at Peter before looking down at his cock. “Just as I can’t wait to legally change my name, I can’t wait to change my driver’s license from male to female. “

She took him in her hand again to fondle the head of his cock before stroking him.

Then, as if she couldn’t wait, she took Peter’s cock in her mouth again. This time really sucking him, she stroked him faster while sucking him deeper. This time while fondling her breasts and fingering her nipples, Peter grew hard in Roberta’s mouth, as hard as he’s ever been when with any woman sucking him, even his wife, especially his wife.

“Wait,” said Peter. With Roberta being a skilled cocksucker, Peter was getting too sexually aroused too fast from her blowjob.


When Roberta wouldn’t stop sucking him, Peter pushed back on her forehead and stepped back to pull away from her mouth.

“What now?” Dropping her shoulders in rejected defeat, she sighed her frustration.

Rather than receiving a blowjob, he wanted anal sex. The reason why he was there was to have anal sex.

“My entire point of this little sexual experimentation into gaydom—”

“Gaydom?” She flashed him an angry look.

“Sorry if I offended you. I just didn’t know what else to call your cross dressing, homosexual lifestyle,” said Peter.

“My cross dressing homosexual lifestyle?” Not even an official couple yet, they were already having their first tiff. “You mean my soon to be heterosexual lifestyle and your present homosexual lifestyle,” she said with a smirk. “If begging for a name, instead of calling this gaydom, you could just look in the mirror and call it what really is, Peter Land,” said Roberta with a laugh.

“If anything, with me believing that I’m more of a woman than a man, you’re much more homosexual than I am,” she said with a self-satisfied laugh.

“Peter Land. That’s funny,” said Peter. “That’s really funny. Ha! Ha! So, I’m a gay man,” he looked at her with an insightful realization. “Actually, you’re right. With you born a woman trapped in a man’s body, you’re not homosexual at all. I get it.

I do. “

“I’m glad you’re starting to understand,” she said.

“Lemme get this straight. If anything, with me attracted to you, especially now that I know that you’re a man, I’m the one who’s gay, that is, unless it’s the woman inside you that I’m attracted to and not the man. Right? I don’t know. I’m so confused,” he said.
Roberta stood from her knees and dabbed at her lipstick with a tissue before reapplying it.

“Thank you for trying to understand my point of view,” said Roberta. “Most men never make the logical connection. Thank you for understanding,” she said. “Anyway, so what’s your entire point Peter?”

Roberta looked at Peter as if she had heard it all and no doubt she has.

“Anal sex is my point. Forgive me and don’t take this the wrong way but I don’t want to cum in your mouth,” said Peter.

“I mean, I do, of course, but I don’t. Not now anyway. “

As if ready to get dressed and leave before being thrown out, Peter looked at Roberta apologetically.

“Okay,” said Roberta laughing. “That’s a strange request when most men want to cum in my mouth while I look up at them with my big, blue eyes before swallowing their oozy load. “

Roberta looked at Peter with short-lived disappointment that he was rejecting her in not wanting to receive a blowjob from her, that is, until he said what he said next.

“I want to cum in your ass,” said Peter.

Peter revealed the original, sexual excitement he had when he first raised Roberta’s dress and pulled down her panties on the train before fucking her up the ass.

“Of course. I should have known. We’re back to anal sex again,” she said rolling her eyes before tossing her beautiful, blonde hair. “Okay, I can do that, only you make me wish I had a vagina instead of an asshole,” said Roberta laughing a sad, little laugh.

“Sorry,” said Peter. “I meant no offense. “

“None taken. Let’s take our little party to my bedroom, shall we?” She e****ted Peter to her bedroom and patted the bed for him to get on the bed. “Do you have a condom?”

“A condom? Oh. No,” he said. “So used to having sex with my wife, I didn’t even think of that. I haven’t used a condom in years. “

“Don’t worry.

I think I may have a condom,” she said opening her nightstand drawer that was filled with condoms of every size, style, and color. “Here’s one,” said Roberta holding it up in his hand as if he was a priest about to give Peter communion.

“Wow! I’ve never seen so many condoms,” said Peter.

“A woman must always be ready when the moment strikes,” she said with a laugh. “Do you need my help putting it on?”

She took the condom in her mouth and ripped it open with her teeth.

“No I can do that,” said Peter looking at her as if she was a sexual a****l and at that point in time, she was.

“Did you bring lube or are you going to lick your fingers before sticking them up my ass again as you did on the train,” she said with a laugh, “and before you f***e your cock up there too?”

“Lube? Shit. No, sorry, I didn’t think to bring lube.

Actually, I didn’t know what to expect when I called you. I mean, I certainly didn’t expect I’d be having sex with you now,” said Peter.

“Don’t worry. I have plenty of lube,” said Roberta with a laugh.

Peter looked at Roberta with more nervousness than sexual excitement.

“Before we have anal sex, I’d like to talk,” said Peter. “

“Talk? Seriously?” She looked at him as if he was nuts.

“Talk about what?”

“About you being a cross dresser and a pre-op transsexual. I’m as curious as I am interested why you had the urge to dress as a woman. “

“Urge to dress up as a woman? You make me feel as if I’m a drag queen or dressing up in costume for Halloween,” she said looking at him as if she could hit him. “I’m a woman. I’ve always been a woman inside.

I never felt comfortable being a man as I have needing to be a woman. “

“Is it okay if I ask you some questions?”

“Okay, this should be interesting,” said Roberta with a bored smile. “What would you like to know?”

“When did you first start want to dress like a woman?”

“For as long back as I can remember, I used to wear my mother’s and my s****r’s clothes when they weren’t home.

It made me feel so naturally sexy to walk around the house wearing their panties and bra that I’d masturbate in front of the mirror while staring at myself. “

“Why though? I don’t get it,” said Peter looking at her with sensitivity in his inability to fully understand. “Why did you feel the need to cross dress?” said Peter.

“Why? That’s easy. I don’t see me dressing as a woman as cross dressing man as I do just being myself.

In the way that you’re gay man’s brain is trapped in a heterosexual body, my female brain is trapped in a man’s body. Just as all of your thoughts are all male, all of my thoughts are all female. Just as to live my life as a man is a horrible mistake, to live my life as a woman instead of a man is my dream,” said Roberta.

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