Passengers milled and murmured, watching the glowing yellow light approach. Wheels screeched, the wind blew and the passengers stepped back until the speeding subway came to a halt. The doors open and there was a general surge toward the doors.
Janet Volz felt a growing excitement when she saw the BART cars from the inside. She had expected dirty, graffiti- littered cars and slashed furniture. Instead she saw shiny new cars, sparkling glass and chrome. They were beautiful. With a happy smile, she took a seat and looked at her fellow passengers. Nearly every possible type of human being was represented there, men, women, and almost every possible race on Earth.
“Does this subway go to the Alcatraz Tours?” she asked everyone in general.
An old black woman turned and stared for a moment, then pointed at the blue map on the wall. “Check the map,” she said, then turned away. The smile faded from Janet’s face. She stood and moved closer to the map. There was nothing that indicated where the Alcatraz Tours originated. She seemed to remember something about the Golden Gate Bridge. She traced the routes down until they all intersected, then followed the main branch on to the Golden Gate.
“I’m on the wrong train,” she gasped.
“Follow it to the end of the line. It will come back and you can transfer,” the black woman said.
“Oh, yeah,” Janet said, again happy. She settled into her seat with an excessive wiggle of her ass. Many faces turned to watch the sweet, young, naive girl with “victim” invisibly written across her face. Some shook their heads in wonder, other’s licked their lips as they surveyed the long, meaty legs protruding from beneath a thigh length skirt. Janet might be naive, but she was a very healthy, sexy country girl. She would be a good fuck, except for the fact that she was obviously a virgin.
Janet opened a brown paper bag and took out a sandwich. She started to bite it, then stopped, handing the sandwich to the old black woman. The woman stared from the sandwich to Janet.
“I brought a lunch,” Janet explained, still holding the sandwich. “You want one?”
“No, thank you. Save your lunch, you may need it. It’s a very long trip.”
“Oh, ok,” Janet agreed, biting into her sandwich.
The woman had been right. Minutes turned into hours. Janet watched as the train finally turned and headed north again. She was growing uncomfortable. She needed to pee. One by one the passengers departed, leaving her alone in the car. Janet was forced to pee into a large slurpie cup and sit it in the corner, out of sight. She watched the stations pass one by one. She fell asleep between 1 and 2 in the morning.
Janet felt a pair of hands touch her inner thighs. They gently pried her thighs open, while she struggled to awake. She felt as if she were drugged. She was half awake, but not awake enough to control her body.
“What? Who?” she whispered to the unknown hands.
“Relaxsssssss,” a voice said from all around her.
“Oh please, don’t do this?” she mumbled.
“Relaxsssssss,” it said again. She felt her skirt being pushed up to her waist. Gentle hands pulled her panties down off her legs and feet. She felt cold air touching her pussy. She shivered. Suddenly she felt a great warmth encircle her body, a moving, gentle breeze of warmth as if a huge beast blew it’s warm breath upon her. A warm mouth touched her pussy, licking her diligently.
“Oh yes,” she gasped in a shuddering breath. Unable to open her eyes, she could only imagine who or what was licking her soft mound. It was a handsome man, of course. She always dreamed of being taken by a handsome man. Her lightly- tanned thighs shuddered under the erotic contact. Her golden, glowing thighs tightened and contracted around the invisible face, reveling in it’s glorious softness and warmth.
“Yes, lick me,” she hissed. She rolled her head from side to side, struggling to open her eyes and see her lover. But it was futile. She knew she could not open them until the moment of her orgasm. She always awoke during an orgasm. This must be another dream, a waking dream. She had heard of such a thing, it was the moment when most people had moments of vision, mental telepathy, even precognition.
“Oh lick me good,” she gasped. Her body responded to the agile tongue working between her legs. As the train passed on through the dark tunnels in the middle of the night, occasional flashes of darkness and light accented the beautiful young virgin with her legs spread and skirt hiked up to her waist. She was the essence of youth and beauty.
Her invisible lover enjoyed her rich young flavor. Her virginal thighs were ripe and delicious, untainted by sickness, disease, or sex. Suddenly, it was time for more.
Janet felt herself being pulled closer to the edge of the seat. She floundered helplessly as she felt a cock pressing against her young womanly pedals, forcing them open. She panted in fear as the cock pressed harder, then forced it’s way inside her, tearing her maidenhead, rupturing the tough membrane of skin which protected her virginity. The pain was great, but the lover ignored the pain. It knew she would soon feel pleasure. And so she did, gradually.
“It hurts,” she mumbled. Her hand flailed aimlessly, trying to reach out and touch her invisible lover. To no avail. Her lover either avoided her hand, or was too insubstantial to be touched. Blood stained her inner thighs. She jerked slightly as the invisible cock plunged in and out of her quivering cunt. She was becoming a woman, and she could not see the face of her lover.
“It burns,” she murmured. “Hot.”
“”Relaxsssssss,” the voice said again. This time she did relax. The pain lessened and the pleasure increased. The heat became an erotic glow in her loins of such an intensity that it frightened her.
“So hot,” she mumbled, pressing her pussy forward to meet the trusts of his cock. She rocked gently on the seat, anticipating his thrusts and meeting them with thrusts of her own. Her sweet young mound compressed as if being struck by an invisible pelvis. Hard invisible hips struck her inner thighs, forcing them open slightly ever few seconds. Her legs flapped open and closed like a sexy pair of flesh colored wings. Her rolled skirt revealed a small area of light brown hair above her pussy. She looked very sexy, very erotic.
“Virgin sacrifice,” crept into her mind. Sacrifice to who or what? Why?
The pleasure in her loins intensified, building exponentially. In mere moments she felt her pussy contract, pause, then explode.
“Oh yes,” she shouted, forcing her eyes open. There was nobody there. She was alone in the car. But still the large penis pounded away between her legs. It was warm and substantial.
“Fuck me,” she hissed.
“Love meeeee,” the voice said in response.
She lay with her legs widespread, her hair and clothing disheveled, her face twisted in pleasure. Over and over her pussy exploded, further stimulated by the continued efforts of the huge cock. It continued fucking her madly. She felt a second orgasm building, then exploding between her legs. She screamed and reached for her invisible lover, but her arms passed through empty space. She felt hot cum spurting into her pussy. She stiffened as a pair of hands held her arms, pulling her against it’s cock. Gradually the orgasm seemed to slow and stop.
“That was wonderful,” Janet said with an impish smile. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked around. She badly wanted to see her lover.
The train screeched and pulled into a lighted station. The doors opened and several people hurried inside.
“Oh-oh, another one,” a woman said to her male partner, motioning toward Janet. She quickly rolled down her skirt, bent and retrieved her panties. She pushed them into her purse.
“Wha… what?” she asked.
“You were a virgin, right?”
“And you were raped?”
“Sort of,” Janet acknowledged.
“A lot of virgins are sort of raped at night on this line,” the man said, eyeing her beautiful legs.
“O… other’s?” she asked uncertainly.
“For nearly a hundred years. He is probably the most prolithic rapist on the face of this Earth. Dozens of teens have ridden this line just to meet him,” the man laughed.
“I wish I had thought of it,” the woman whispered.
“Who is he?” Janet asked.
“No idea. But if you are thinking of riding again in order to meet him, forget it. He only makes love to a virgin. And you are no longer a virgin,” he said with a laugh. “On the other hand, I am available,” he said with a leer.
“Fuck off,” she said in a surly mood. She had been considering riding the car just to meet her invisible lover again.
“If you are curious about anything, just ask,” the man persisted.
“Actually I am. Do you know which train goes to the Alcatraz tour?”