What Happened on the Subway with Two Strangers

That day I left the house in a simple black dress, tight against my body, the kind that doesn’t show too much but outlines everything. It cinched my waist, settled over my soft belly, and made me feel more exposed than usual. Underneath, I wore a pink lace thong that was already wet by the time I got to the subway. I didn’t have any date or any weird plan; I was just going to run an errand and go back home. But I woke up horny, restless, with my body begging for attention.

It was hot on the platform. The air smelled of metal, sweat, and old brakes. When I got on the train, it was already packed, and I had to stay pressed against the door, trapped between shoves and other people’s backs.

I felt a hand on my hip first, heavy, rough, with the callused skin of someone used to hard work. I turned a little and saw a man with a full beard, broad shoulders, and dark eyes, looking at me as if he had no intention of pretending. On the other side, a younger man, tattooed on his forearms, was watching my mouth with a half-smile.

—Sorry, queen —murmured the bearded man, though his hand was already slipping under my dress.

I didn’t move away. That was my mistake, or my decision—I still don’t know what to call it. I just stayed still, squeezing my thighs together while his fingers climbed up the inside of my leg.

The younger one moved closer, taking advantage of a sudden brake. His chest pressed against my arm and his rough voice brushed my ear.

—Look at her shaking —he said, almost amused—. She was already hot before she got on.

The first man’s fingers found my thong. He pulled it aside without ceremony and touched me directly, with a certainty that made me jolt. I was already soaked. So wet that when he slipped two fingers into me and moved them just slightly, I felt a gush escape and soak the lace, my thigh, and probably his hand.

—Fuck —he whispered, taking his fingers to his mouth—. You really came ready.

I wanted to say something, to protest or tell them to stop, but all that came out was a gasp. The other man took the chance to press closer and rub my breast with his forearm. My nipple hardened under the fabric, and he smiled when he noticed.

—You’re going to leave this carriage a total mess —he murmured.

The train slammed to a stop at the next station. I was flushed, wet, and trembling. I got off almost running, my legs weak and my heart pounding. I heard their footsteps behind me on the platform, and I didn’t need to turn around to know they were following me.

The bearded man caught up with me near the turnstiles and touched my shoulder with insolent familiarity.

—Wait. Don’t make that face now. Back there on the train you didn’t look so rushed.

The tattooed man planted himself beside me, cutting off my way without shoving me, but making it clear he wasn’t leaving.

—We saw you come with two fingers —he said softly—. If you get like that in public, imagine what you’re like in bed.

I swallowed. My cheeks burned. Between my legs I could feel that warm, shameful dampness that gives everything away.

—I have to go —I lied.

—You don’t want to go —the bearded man replied—. You look like you want more. There’s a hotel nearby. One hour. You go in, we take those urges out of you, and you walk out.

—Or not walking —added the other, with a crooked smile.

I should have turned around. I should have told them to go fuck themselves. But I could still feel their fingers inside me, the gush slipping out on the carriage, the arousal mixed with fear and dirty fascination. I gave the slightest nod, barely looking at them.

—Quick —I said—. Just quick.

The bearded man squeezed one of my ass cheeks over the dress.

—That’s more like it. Come on.

***

The three of us walked down a side street and then crossed a small, almost empty park. The night was heavy and humid. The tattooed man wrapped an arm around my shoulders as if we’d been friends forever, but his fingers brushed the side of my breast every few steps. The bearded man stayed on the other side, his hand on my lower back, guiding me.

—What’s your name? —I asked, more to break the silence than anything else.

—Doesn’t matter today —said the bearded man.

—Better that way —added the other—. Easier to repeat it in your head when you jerk off later.

The hotel was two blocks away. Old façade, indifferent receptionist, and the smell of cheap bleach mixed with damp. The bearded man paid without arguing, asked for condoms, and took the key. I stayed quiet, noticing how my cunt throbbed with every second, as if my body knew where it was going before I did.

We climbed a narrow staircase. The hallway creaked under our steps. When the door closed behind us, the silence of the room hit me head-on. A bed, a large mirror, a tiny bathroom, and a yellow lamp that made everything look dirtier and more intimate at the same time.

The tattooed man looked me up and down and let out a slow breath.

—All right then. Take off the dress.

I didn’t move right away. The bearded man came closer, took my chin, and spoke calmly, almost gently.

—We’re not going to treat you like glass. But if you didn’t want to be here, you’d have left already. So stop pretending.

He was right. With clumsy hands, I pulled off my jacket and lifted the dress over my head. I was left in just the pink thong. They both looked at me without hiding it: my soft belly, my wide hips, my heavy breasts falling freely with my quick breathing.

—Fuck —said the tattooed man—. You’re gorgeous.

He came closer and grabbed one breast with his whole palm, without delicacy. He pinched the nipple between two fingers and made me moan. The bearded man stood behind me and kissed my neck, biting just enough to sting before sliding his hand down to my belly.

—Look how hard they’re getting —murmured the younger one, licking one of my nipples—. And we haven’t even started fucking you yet.

His tongue was hot and rough. He circled the tip, sucked it, tugged it with his lips while his free hand pulled my thong down. The garment fell to my ankles. The bearded man picked it up from the floor, smelled it, and gave a low laugh.

—Soaked. You were dying for this.

They gently pushed me to the bed. I lay back, open, not knowing where to put my hands. The tattooed man settled beside my head and finally kissed me, a direct, hungry tongue kiss, tasting of tobacco and gum. Meanwhile, the bearded man knelt between my legs and spread me wider with his hands.

—Look at you —he said—. All open and dripping.

His tongue touched me without warning. It wasn’t a timid caress but a long lick from my entrance to my clit. My body arched on its own. He did it again, this time slower, pushing the tip between my swollen lips and sucking my wetness as if he were truly thirsty.

—You’ve got a delicious cunt —he said before burying his face in me again.

I was gasping against the tattooed man’s mouth, who kissed me and sucked my lower lip while kneading my breasts. His fingers played with my nipples and the other man devoured me between the legs with obscene concentration. He opened me with two fingers and licked around them, then slipped his tongue where his fingers had just been, probing, sucking, making me wetter.

—Don’t close up —he ordered—. I want to feel all of you.

He pushed in two fingers and started moving them inside me, curling them upward, while his tongue punished my clit. The tattooed man moved from my mouth to my neck, then to my tits, and stayed there sucking them greedily, alternating between one and the other, biting just enough to make me writhe.

I wasn’t thinking about anything anymore. I was only feeling. The old bed creaked under my back, sweat ran down my chest, the wetness between my legs increased with every lick. When the bearded man slid in a third finger and pressed his thumb to my clit, the orgasm hit me hard. I came trembling, with a hot gush that soaked his mouth and hands.

—That’s it —he growled without pulling away—. That’s how I wanted to see you.

—Look at her —said the tattooed man, wiping a sweat-stuck strand of hair from my face—. She’s lost already.

The bearded man stood up and started unfastening his pants. The bulge that came out was thick, heavy, already very hard. He tore open a packet with his teeth and put on the condom without taking his eyes off me. The tattooed man did the same, but didn’t put it on yet; he just stroked himself slowly while watching.

—Lie on your side first —ordered the bearded man.

I did, still panting. He lifted one leg and lined the tip up with my entrance. He rubbed it slowly between my lips, wetting himself with what I was still leaking, then pushed in. He slid halfway in at once. The jolt tore a short cry from me.

—Slowly —I begged.

—Slowly, yes —he said, and pushed in the rest with cruel calm, until he was buried all the way—. But you’re going to take all of it.

He started moving with long thrusts. He came almost all the way out and then drove back in deep, making the bed bang against the wall. I could feel his thickness opening me, settling inside, rubbing me from within in a steady rhythm that kept pulling dirtier and dirtier moans from me. The tattooed man knelt in front of me to give me his cock in my mouth.

—Suck me while they fuck you —he said.

I opened my lips and took him. He tasted like latex and hot skin. He held my hair and set the rhythm, pushing into my mouth until I had to breathe through my nose. Behind me, the bearded man fucked me harder and harder, slamming my ass with his pelvis.

—That’s it —he growled—. Such a good mouth and such a good cunt. You can take anything.

The scene turned me on more than I wanted to admit. They had all of me occupied: one inside me, one in my mouth, their hands on my tits, my waist, my ass. I was leaking around the condom with every thrust. The bearded man yanked his cock out of me and made me turn until I was on all fours on the bed.

—Now I want to see that ass.

He spread my cheeks with both hands and spat on my hole. The contact made my stomach tighten.

—Relax —said the tattooed man, stroking my clit from below—. If you tense up, it’ll hurt more.

The bearded man slid in one finger, then two, working me with rough patience, in and out while he kept spitting and massaging around the rim. I moaned, half pain, half anticipation. The younger man kissed my back, sucked on my shoulder, and kept his hand fixed on my cunt, rubbing softly so I wouldn’t clamp down.

—Breathe —he whispered in my ear—. Let it in.

The tip of the bearded man’s cock pushed against my ass. I felt a burning pressure, the hard resistance of my body and then a slow, forced opening, millimeter by millimeter. I tensed and let out a muffled whimper.

—Not all the way —I said, gripping the coverlet.

—All the way —he replied, and kept going until he was completely inside.

I stayed still for a few seconds, eyes closed, enduring the sting, the invasion, the sensation of being too full. The tattooed man circled my clit with small strokes, just enough to keep me from thinking only about the discomfort.

—That’s it —he murmured—. Look at how you’re taking it.

The bearded man began to move carefully at first, pulling out only a little and going back in only a little, letting my body give way. Then he increased the pace. Each thrust opened me more, hit deeper, made me pant into the pillow. The pain began to mix with something else, a dirty, exciting tension rising from my belly.

—That’s it, fuck —he growled behind me—. That’s how I like it. Look at you swallowing my cock through your ass.

The tattooed man knelt in front of me and pushed two fingers into my mouth.

—Suck them.

I licked them, not stopping my moans. He looked at me as if he were enjoying every expression on my face, every tear of effort, every ragged breath. When he pulled them out, he lowered them and slipped those same fingers into my cunt, already swollen and soaked. The contrast made me shudder.

—They’re fucking your ass and you’re still dripping —he said with an incredulous laugh—. What a slut.

Between his fingers in front and the cock behind me, pleasure shot through me completely. The bearded man grabbed my waist and started pounding me harder, using my hips like handles. I could no longer keep my balance. Every blow made me bounce, clamp down, and let out a rough moan.

—I’m about to come —I warned, barely able to speak.

—Do it —ordered the younger man, rubbing my clit harder—. Come like that.

I did. I came with my ass full, fingers in my cunt, and my face buried in the bed. My legs shook so hard I almost collapsed. The bearded man cursed and gave me three more thrusts, deep, brutal, before going still and coming inside the condom with a thick grunt against my back.

He pulled out slowly, and the emptiness made me shiver. He gave my reddened ass cheek a slap and took off the condom.

—Very good.

I was breathing hard, exhausted, still on all fours. The tattooed man took my chin and turned me until I was sitting on the edge of the bed. He kissed me hungrily, sliding his tongue in as if he wanted to taste what they had just done to me.

—Now it’s really my turn —he said.

***

He made me open my mouth and slid his cock in slowly, still without the condom, just so I could feel it hot and hard on my tongue. He held my neck without violence, but firmly, and started fucking my mouth at a measured pace. The bearded man, now recovering, stood behind me to grab my breasts and pinch my nipples while the other man used my throat.

Saliva ran down my chin. Every time the tattooed man sank deeper, my eyes watered and a muffled sound escaped me. That excited him even more.

—That’s it, swallow me —he said—. Such a delicious mouth you’ve got.

Then he pulled back just enough and put on a condom. He laid me on my back, lifted my legs, and spread me wide open. The bearded man sat beside me to give me his half-hard cock to lick while the other positioned himself between my legs.

—I want to feel you clench around me —said the tattooed man.

He entered my cunt with one long thrust, taking advantage of how swollen and slippery I already was. I let out my breath sharply. He was different from the other one: not as thick, but tighter, faster, as if he’d been holding back for a long time. He started fucking me hungrily, digging his hands into my thighs, driving in all the way and pulling out just enough to shove back in again.

The bed creaked again. The bearded man put two fingers in my mouth and then squeezed one breast, enjoying how open I was for his partner.

—He’s taking him all the way —he murmured—. Look at how she takes him.

The younger man slid a hand down to my clit and started rubbing me without breaking his thrusts. I was already sensitive, almost too much so, but that was exactly why every touch felt multiplied. He kissed my neck, then my mouth, never stopping the rhythm.

—Squeeze me —he asked—. Squeeze me like that.

I obeyed without thinking. My cunt tightened around him and I heard him groan. He sped up, lost his even breathing, started pounding me harder. The bearded man spread my legs wider and watched me take him, as if he enjoyed the sight as much as touching me.

—You make a great threesome —he said—. You look like you were born for this.

The tattooed man leaned down to suck on one nipple while he kept fucking me. His hips hit my ass with quick, wet slaps. I was so soaked that every thrust sounded out. I grabbed the sheet and twisted it, unable to stay still.

—More —I begged.

—More? —he repeated, smiling against my neck—. Then take this.

He lifted my legs higher and started giving it to me so deep I felt the impact in my belly. The bearded man took the chance to slip two fingers into my ass, just the tip, playing with the sensitivity he’d left there. I screamed without shame. One cock in my cunt, fingers behind me, a hand on my throat, their hot breaths over me. There wasn’t a single part of my body left unoccupied.

—I’m going to come again —I panted.

—Come with me —said the tattooed man.

His hand on my clit became faster, dirtier, more precise. The tension shot up through me like a pull from my pelvis to my chest. I came trembling, clenching him so hard that he let out a groan and fucked me five more times, out of control, before freezing and coming inside the condom with his forehead pressed to mine.

We stayed like that for a few seconds, sweating. Then he pulled out slowly and let out a breathless laugh.

—Fuck. You really do squeeze.

I fell back, legs open, chest rising and falling. They both looked at me as if they had just finished a job well done. There was no tenderness in the scene, but there was no coldness either. It was something else: a carnal, intense, animal, momentary pact.

The bearded man stood up, went to the bathroom, and came back with a damp towel. He wiped between my legs with unexpected calm. The tattooed man kissed my knee and then my belly. Their gestures, after the brutality, confused me more than anything before.

—Look at us —said the bearded man—. We’re even taking care of you.

—Don’t get used to it —added the other, though he was smiling.

***

In the end, the three of us got into the shower for a few minutes. The hot water eased my legs and the burning between my ass cheeks. They soaped my back, my shoulders, my thighs, as if prolonging the intimacy in another way. I could barely stand; my body was still trembling on the inside.

When we got out, I dressed slowly. I looked for my thong and couldn’t find it. The tattooed man raised an eyebrow and patted his pocket.

—I’m keeping it as a souvenir.

—You’re an asshole —I said, but it came out more like a gasp than a complaint.

The bearded man laughed and slipped a folded bill into the pocket of my jacket.

—For the ride home. And so you can’t say we took you out for free.

—That wasn’t necessary.

—I know —he replied—. But anyway.

We left the hotel and the street air hit my face like a slap of reality. I walked between them in short steps, my legs still unsteady. They held me by the waist as if they knew exactly how hard it was for me to keep moving without complaining.

At the subway entrance we stopped. The tattooed man hugged me first and gave me a deep, slow kiss this time, tasting me without hurry. The bearded man stroked my cheek and then gave my hip a gentle slap.

—Take care —he said.

—And don’t get on the train so wet again —added the younger one—. Or do. But then you’ll have to live with the consequences.

I laughed, still flushed, still in disbelief. I left them there and went into the station without looking back right away. When I finally did, they were still standing where I’d left them, watching me walk away.

On the ride home my whole body burned. I could feel the dress rubbing against my sensitive nipples, the absence of my thong, the echo of the thrusts in my cunt and my ass. Every step reminded me what I’d done with two men whose real names I didn’t even know.

I never saw them again. I don’t even know whether I ever will. But every time I take that line, when the carriage is packed and someone brushes too close against me, I remember that night. And how I got off the train trembling, thinking I was going to flee, only to end up in a cheap hotel letting two strangers fuck me until I got home with weak legs and my head on fire.