High Heaven

It was hot. The kind of fuggy heat that left everyone damp and lethargic. On the train it was even worse. Whatever air conditioning system it was that was supposed to be cooling the evening commuters wasn't working and the carriage stank of sweat. Standing room only, of course. We were packed, but people were careful to maintain a distance. Polite sardines. I was holding onto a roof bar, swaying with the movements of the train, planning my evening. Then, suddenly, a whiff of something in my nostrils, rising over the baseline stink of my fellow commuters...

Above the general hum of humans locked in a small, hot space was an increasing odour: high notes of stale urine, the deep musk of old body odour, the earthy stink of worse, human waste. And below it all, the unmistakable smell of sex, unwashed orgasm. I'd just started to look around, trying to pinpoint the offender, when I felt a body press into my back. The soft swell of breasts around my shoulders, a hard pelvis pressing into my ass and thighs. I tensed, waiting for an awkward apology and the body to step away. It didn't. And I realised the smell was coming from them, the person pressing into me. I inhaled again and my cock twitched, involuntary. I should have gagged, should have stepped away. I didn't. Despite myself I was suddenly hot with arousal. Almost giddy.

A pause, only a few seconds, probably, but it felt like minutes, the body at my back gently rocking into me with the sway of the train. And then, suddenly, wet lips at my ear. An overpowering wave of unwashed breath. Alcohol, cigarettes and, again, the musk of stale sex. "You like it, don't you?" their fetid breath caressing me as they spoke, voice harsh, gravelly. Used. I was still frozen. Still half expecting, half hoping for, a muttered apology, 'Sorry, thought you were someone else'. I didn't step away. Didn't say a word. Couldn't. I felt pinned by the putrid, irresistible stench rising around me. My cock twitched again. I did like it...

"You do, you filthy fucker..." Now I felt their crotch grinding into my thigh. A slick wetness soaking through my trousers from them. The heat of them. A hand was at my thigh, fingers probing, searching for the waistband. A 'normal' person would have pulled away, recoiled. Instead, I leant backwards into them.

"Ah. I chose well." The hot, wet, voice in my ear again. The hand moves, having found a path, down, under my waistband. Sticky fingers wrap themselves around my shaft, now rock hard. I groan, finally, the first sound I've made.

"Hard already? Doesn't my... scent put you off?"

I can still step away, I think, lose myself in the crowd. "Wait, What... Where..." I whisper, trying but failing to articulate some of what I was feeling.

"What have I done? Where have I been?" the wet voice whispers in my ear again. "Do you want me to tell to while I wank you off, you fucking pervert?" A long, slow stroke, lubricated by the pre-cum already slicking the head of my cock accompanies the words. I groan again, letting myself sink further back into whatever's, whoever's, behind me. They don't move an inch as I lean back into them. Strong, sturdy, despite being what I judge, from touch alone, to be a fairly lightly built female. Rancid.

Another stroke. Slow. Deliberate. A tongue draws a line up my neck from shoulder to jaw. It feels... wrong. Muscled. Slimy. The trail it left didn't started to dry immediately. I could feel it roll down my neck. Thick. Viscous. "Ugh, fuck..." I could barely manage a husky whisper. Disgusted. Thrilled.

"Before I got on this train? I was on all fours in the station toilet, two men taking me at once." Another stroke. "Jealous, handsome?". I was, of course. I felt fevered now, all I wanted was for this... thing to carry me away. Fuck me like she had fucked those men.

Another stroke, then another, faster now. "This morning? Some other filthy bastard, up against a wall in an alley. Young one, kept at it for a good twenty minutes. Cane twice." The strokes were steady now, unrelenting. I started lifting my hips with every stroke, grinding myself into their palm. My full weight must have been on her then, my legs felt paralysed. "I let them piss in me when they were done." I'm letting out soft breathy moans now. I vaguely hope that no one can see what's happening. That my shirt's covering my leaking cock. But even if it were hanging out, I know I wouldn't do anything. That I would let it happen. I close my eyes. "That's it, love. Relax. Some folks fight it, you know. But they all come round in the end. It's.... whatsit... inevitable. I'm fucking irresistible." The last words hissed into my ear, along with a shower of thick phlegm. Pumping faster now. A strong arm has snaked round my chest, supporting me. Restraining me. I keep my eyes closed. I don't want to cum. I ache for it.

"Last night I got invited back to a hotel room. A real treat. I fucking shat myself while we were asleep. All over him. All over me. I still haven't washed." A louder groan escapes me now. Almost a cry. Help me. Fuck me.

"Haven't washed in... weeks, actually. Do you want to know where they came, all those other filthy fucking perverts? You can still smell them, you know... taste them, if you want..." I'm trembling now. Shaking. I'd be a quivering mess on the train floor if it wasn't for the arm holding me up. "Well... do you?"

I manage a nod. Then another. Then another. I find I can't stop nodding. I start to dissociate. Imagine what I must look like to the other commuters. Wrapped in... filth, nodding like a madman. I start to giggle. Crazed. Then, strong fingers grip my jaw, turn my face, eyes still tightly closed. "They came here, love." The hot, rancid breath again, this time wet and close against my lips. Then, they're on my mouth. Surprisingly gentle. Loving almost. And then that tongue forces its way into my mouth like it's kicking a door in. Irresistible. Impossibly long, it snakes its way to the back of my throat and I gag. "That's it love, can you taste them?" And I can, salty, thick, as if their cum's still dripping from her.

"And here, love." Her hand leaves my cock. I'm bereft, grinding desperately against the air. I try to move my own hand so that I can fuck myself, but my wrist is gripped, vicelike. She starts to move it. Back. My fingers feel the hem of skirt. Then under, over a thigh, coarse with stubble. Up and back, sliding into a warm cleft. Fine hairs now, but matted, clumped with dried matter. Deeper still, where it's still soft, damp, my fingers are dragged around a puckered hole and then back out. I shudder, I know what's coming. I dread it. I need it. I feel my own fingers touch my lips. Slick and foul with waste. I want to clamp my mouth shut. Twist away. I open my lips.

"That's it, love. Get a good taste." They're pushed into my mouth and I wrap my tongue around them. Deep. Sweet. Intimate. Filthy. My hand's pulled out again. "And here, of course. Best for last." Down again. Back under the hem, but this time my hand is pushed up between us. My fingers track through the slickness oozing down her thighs long before they reach her cunt. As my fingers reach her lips I feel a trickle coming from them. Hot, thin. She's pissing on my hand. Not a stream, not uncontrolled. A gentle trickle. A blessing. A baptism.

The folds around her slit part for me as her hand leaves mine, like a lovers lips opening for breath. "That's it, love, I'm going to cum on your fingers now..." She grinds into me as she this, her clit sliding across my palm as my fingers are forced into her. Her cunt, dripping fluid onto my wrist, pulses around my fingers. It feels like it's gripping me, pulling my hand deeper. I want to pull out. I want to push my whole self into it, consumed by the wet, stinking darkness between her legs. I adjust my hand slightly, my thumb sliding up her slit and finding the hard nub at it's head as she begins to writhe harder and faster on my fingers.

"Oh, pet. Yes, yesss." I keep it up, entranced as her cunt spasmed around my fingers, whatever was spilling from her is oozing over my palm and wrist. She cums, sudden, hard and fast, her cunt clamping around my fingers so hard I thought they might be crushed. Her hot fetid breath stops for a moment before, with a nothing more than a low grunt, she releases, more fluid spilling, gushing, from her, over my hand, coating the back of my trousers where she writhes for a few seconds more, contorting my fingers still held within her.

"Oh, pet" her voice was lower now, gentle, her drool covered lips marking each word with a slow wet kiss of my neck. Her fingers were round my wrist again, pulling me out of her now. I feel, rather than hear the slurp as my fingers come free, as if her cunts reluctant to let me go. Still hungry. She holds me there for a moment as I feel her hips give a grotesque wiggle, shaking herself off onto my hand. Then she slides my hand back around me to my mouth.

"Go on, love" still in the same gentle, almost adoring, tone "your last taste, for now." I don't open my eyes. Can't imagine the mess covering my fingers. Don't need to, I can smell it. The foul stink of her shit is still there, now coated with the sour stench of her unwashed sex. Her piss and cum and all of the spilled seed of all the men she's fucked over the past week. Rotten. Unbearable. Delicious. I open my mouth and began devouring every last drop of the thick filth from my fingers, cock still thrusting pathetically into the air.

Her hand leaves my wrist and again wraps itself around me. Strokes me once, twice, thrice as I tongue and suck and moan around my ruined fingers.

"You'll never get rid of it, you know. The smell. Not totally. A little piece of me, with you forever. Maybe I'll find you again, love. next time I'll be able to sniff you out." With that both of her hands left me, her solid weight suddenly vanishing from behind me and I stumble to the carriage floor, my cock suddenly pumping cum over my shirt and waistline as my orgasm finally hits. I realise that the smell has dimmed slightly. I take my hand from my mouth and sniff deeply. Yes, still there, more muted maybe, but deep, cloying. Rich. A small part of her. My cock spasms, leaking more thin strands of cum.

I feel a slight commotion around me. Someone leaning down, checking on me. "Mate are you al... Eugh, fuck! He fucking stinks!" The owner of the voice recoiling. I stay on my knees, trembling, eyes still closed, fingers at my nose, smiling.