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A passion-filled night with ladies in Persia.

When I shook my head clear of all thoughts of Vietnamese cuisine, I also realised why. He was now pressed rather tightly up against me. Not to put too fine a point on the matter, my butt was level with -- and highly adjacent to -- the front of his suit trousers. His edging was to no avail though, as we were effectively pinned into the corner of the alcove where the doors were situated between the ranks of precious, unobtainable seats.

Despite his alarming proximity, I felt a bit sorry for the guy -- after all, he was trying to be polite in a situation that was, by its very nature, forcing an intimacy on the strangers trapped in its circumstance. When he leaned close to my ear and muttered 'sorry', that confirmed to me that he was one of the good guys -- anyone who's polite in London, especially during rush hour, is a good guy. I gave a little shrug and whispered back 'not to worry -- honestly', knowing that he couldn't see my face so hoping instead that my words would convince him.

The fifth stop on the journey was relatively neutral in terms of numbers boarding and leaving, but tipped to the side of 'increased numbers' and the crush intensified very slightly. Very slightly, though, was all it took to press me even closer to the polite stranger behind me. When the train began to sway its way through the next tunnel I felt the guy try to ease himself through the metal of the door behind him and it took me a moment or two to realise why he was trying to be just so very polite.

Every jolt and sway of the carriage seemed to emphasise that his maleness (to be euphemistic) was pressed tightly against my butt.

He'd been so polite, the poor man -- that was my first thought, I promise you, and I turned my head sideways, trying to make sure he understood that the 'don't worry' I whispered was meant for him. When he still tried to squeeze his molecules through the door behind him, I emphasised my acceptance of the situation the only way I knew how -- I leaned back more deliberately, saying 'please, it's fine' over my other shoulder.

Even as the words left my lips and I realised the full extent of the contact, my mind did a little flip. It informed me with -- or so it seemed -- a sly smile that I was pressed very firmly against a guy who had never even seen my face properly and I had just told him that it was perfectly fine for him to be pressed up against me like that... I also realised why he had been so desperate to get away through the closed doors that last time -- there was no escaping the fact (in any sense) that he was starting to become just a little firm in the trouser department. My heart skipped in time with my mind.

With absolutely no conscious thought whatsoever -- I mean it -- I flexed the muscles in my butt, pressing backwards at the same time.

There was the longest pause while my brain tried to catch up with what was occurring -- registering my increased heart rate, my heightened galvanic skin response, and -- I couldn't deny it -- the first tingling sensations in the very centre of me. Another euphemism -- I mean my pussy. When the guy finally stopped trying to climb through solid metal and his body relaxed, the response was immediate and unequivocal. I swear I could feel him getting harder and harder.

I glanced all around. My height was so useful just then -- in more ways than one -- and I could tell that no one was paying the slightest bit of attention to the two commuters crushed into the little space in the corner by the closed doors. Not even the guy in front of me who was an unwitting assistant. My mind flashed up a warning sign and then, with a puzzled frown, it switched it off again -- even in the midst of all of these people, no one knew what was happening. And in any case, what more could happen with all these people around? This was the ultimate in safe experiences... I took a shaky breath and pressed my butt back again, a slower and more obvious movement as I let it continue regardless of the swaying of the carriage.

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