by Penny Birch
‘I like perky,’ he went on. ‘I like the way your nipples point up. There are internet sites devoted to girls with tits like yours. Puppy-dogs, they’re called.’
‘I think I had better suck,’ I told him, nodding to his now fully erect cock.
‘No,’ he answered. ‘I want to see a bit more of you. Pull up your skirt.’
I nodded, glancing at the connecting door even as I took hold of the hem of the knee-length, woollen skirt I’d chosen. I stood to pull it up, enjoying the feeling of exposure as I sat down with just my tights between me and the fabric of the seat.
‘Tights down,’ he said, ‘all the way.’
‘Wouldn’t it look better if I took them right off? An inspector might come.’
‘Not likely. I want you dishevelled. I want you sucking with your little bare arse stuck out behind. Now do it, tights first, then turn round to take down your panties.’
‘I would be bare anyway…’
‘Shut up. Get those tights down.’
I complied, rolling them down off my hips and pushing them low to my ankles. It was risky, but not very, and it did feel delicious, with my breasts bare and just my panties to cover me from waist to ankles. He was grinning, enjoying the view and wanking hard. I waited, expecting the final order, to be told to pull down my panties and go down on his cock. I was going to enjoy it, and I was going to masturbate too, with an easy fifteen minutes remaining.
‘Drop ’em,’ he panted. ‘Like I ordered, arse stuck right out and peel them down real slow. Pull your cheeks open too; I love to see that tight pink arsehole and your little shaved cunt. You always shave, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then show me it. Sod it, sit on my cock. I’m going to fuck you…’
He stopped abruptly as the train came to a halt. I peered from the window, where an embankment led down to a terrace of suburban houses much like Monty’s own. Several windows were lit, a few with the curtains open. I closed my coat.
‘Hey, what are you doing?’ Monty demanded.
‘What if an inspector comes, perhaps to explain why we’ve stopped?’
‘Fat chance. This is Britain, Gabby. It just means we get more time. I can give you a proper fucking now, on your knees on the seat. Maybe someone’ll see from those houses if you’re lucky.’
I glanced at the houses again. Nobody was visible, but anyone looking out of a window would be able to see into our carriage. If they couldn’t see everything, they’d get a pretty good idea of what we were doing.
‘Anyhow,’ Monty went on, ‘if we do get caught you can offer him a blow-job. Take him in his cabin and suck his cock. You’d love that, I bet. Actually they come round in pairs, so you’d have to go two up, one in the mouth, one up the cunt.’
He was fantasising, and wanking so hard I thought he’d come in his hand. I let my coat open and put my hand to my panties, checking I was damp enough to take his cock. I was.
‘I’d tell them you’d been drinking,’ he went on, ‘that you’re anybody’s after a few lagers. No, I’d tell them you were desperate, that you’d been going to piss yourself. Now that would have you blushing, wouldn’t it? Yes, you’re to do it, Gabby. Piss your knickers, right now.’
‘No,’ I managed, but it was weak. The suggestion was too close to my favourite fantasy, and he knew it.
‘Since when can Miss Gabby hold it in?’ he demanded. ‘Come on, if you need pee-pee, just do it.’
He had pushed my button. I decided to do it.
‘Through my panties?’ I asked. ‘Or do I pull them down, to squat between the seats, maybe? You could see my puddle…’
‘No, I want you sitting in it,’ he said. ‘Then I’m going to fuck you doggy, with your pissy knickers pulled aside.’
I just nodded. I knew I could do it, a little anyway, enough to show. It wasn’t the way I usually like to wet myself, but it was good, too good to resist. I opened my legs, showing him the clean white crotch of my panties as I tensed my bladder. His grin grew broader still.
‘Here it comes,’ I gasped, and pushed.
Pee spurted out into my panty gusset and through it, in a little yellow fountain, soaking into the cotton and trickling down on to the seat. I looked down, watching as I peed myself, the wet patch growing with the damp cotton tight to my sex, showing everything.
‘Fucking nice!’ Monty exclaimed.
I moved forwards a little, pressing my bottom into the wet patch and pushing harder. Pee sprayed out through my panties to splash on the floor. Some had gone in my tights, but I didn’t care. It felt so nice, showing off, half-dressed and wet with my own piddle, out of control.
My hand went to my panty gusset, squeezing the warm, wet cotton to my sex. The pee was still coming, wetting my fingers, and running back to moisten my vagina and seep in between my buttocks to my anus. There was time to masturbate, and I was going to do it, when Monty pulled me up short.
‘Not that, you dirty bitch,’ he said. ‘Not yet, and what about me? What happens to girls who wet their knickers?’
‘They get put in nappies?’ I asked hopefully.
He nodded and patted the bench beside him. I came quickly, knowing we didn’t have much time. My panties were soaking, pee dribbling down my legs as I stood up to leave a big wet patch on the seat. Monty stood to retrieve my bag and rummage inside it for my nappy as I levered off the wet panties, taking my tights with them. My shoes came too, leaving me bare from the waist down and feeling more exposed than if I’d been stark naked.
Monty knew what he was doing, having had plenty of practice. As soon as I lay down he had me by the ankles, rolling me up to lift my bottom from the seat. He had the cream and squirted it out on to my bare pussy as he held me. I felt the cool touch, then the texture as he quickly rubbed it into my sex and anus, unnecessarily pushing one joint of his finger a little way into my ring. I managed a mew of protest but no more. My eyes were shut, my thumb in my mouth, and I was concentrating on the feelings of my lower body, my bare legs, my moist sex, then the soft nappy material as it was slid under my bottom.
With swift, certain motions my legs were pulled wide, the nappy pushed up between them and pressed to my belly, the tabs pulled up, one side then the other, and fastened into place. It was done, my hips, bottom and belly encased in soft, pink, material, bulging above bare legs, the way a grown-up baby girl should be, only in a painfully risky place.
I had to do it anyway. My hand went down the front of my nappy, straight down, to find the creamy, slimy folds of my sex. I began to rub, one finger on my clitoris, desperate to come before anything went wrong. I was too far gone to really care what Monty did, but gave no resistance as he took me by the thighs, pulling me around so that he could get at my sex. His hand took hold of my nappy, pulling it wide to expose me, and an instant later the bulbous head of his cock pushed up into my body. He fucked me as I masturbated, grunting and blowing, his great fat belly splaying my legs wide and smacking on my flesh. I was starting to come even as the train once more jerked into motion, rubbing frantically as I thought of how I was, near naked, in my soft pink nappy, with Monty’s fat penis working in and out of my hole…
I heard my own scream as I came, in a long moment of blinding, beautiful ecstasy. It was truly wonderful, and so nice of him to make me pee myself, nicer still to put me in a nappy to fuck me. As I pulled myself quickly upright my overwhelming emotion was gratitude.
‘Thank you, Monty,’ I told him. ‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t,’ he panted, and pulled his cock out.
I was taken by the head, his fat fingers locking in my hair. He moved round, sitting, to tug me after him. I went down, kneeling right in the little puddle of pee I’d made on the floor. Before I could move his cock had been stuffed into my mouth. He began to fuck my head urgently, although he was panting with the effort of what he’d done and his cock was beginning to lose its stiffness. I sucked harder and stuck my bottom out, showing off the rear of my nappy to him. It was half down
, the way he’d pulled it, with a little of my bottom crease showing at the top, a sight I was sure would get to him.
It did, but slowly. I sucked anyway, as best I could with him holding me by the hair. Gradually he grew properly stiff, and ever more urgent, until it was all I could do to make my mouth a comfortable slide as he jammed his cock in and out, faster and faster…
Too late I remembered his threat to come over my glasses. He did it, jerking his cock from my mouth at the last possible moment, to snatch my head back and empty himself in my face. My cry of shock and denial was ignored, my head held firmly in place as gout after gout of sperm was emptied out into my mouth, over my nose, across one lens as I closed my eyes by reflex. Something pressed to my other lens, and I realised he’d wiped the last of his come off on to it.
‘I said not that, Monty!’ I exclaimed.
‘Sorry,’ he puffed. ‘I just love it too much!’
‘I can hardly see!’
I’d opened my eyes to find both lenses smeared with come, enough to leave much of my vision a blur of off-white. I pulled my glasses off, groping for my bag, with my anger rising in the face of Monty’s helpless laughter.
‘Here,’ he said, and put something into my hand, my discarded panties.
There was no time to fuss and I quickly used what little of the seat was still dry to get the worst of the sperm off my glasses, all the while demanding that Monty help me. He was laughing too hard, and struggling even to get his cock back into his trousers. I pulled my jumper down over my breasts and tried to use the panties to clean up my face, but only succeeded in making the mess worse, and in the end was forced to use the tail of my blouse. When I at last managed to get my glasses back on Monty was still laughing.
‘You have no idea what you looked like!’ he boomed. ‘Sorry, but the expression on your face, it was just so funny!’
‘Can you help me, do you think?’ I demanded. ‘We will be in Victoria in minutes!’
I glanced from the window, to find yellow lights reflecting on water, the Thames.
‘Quick, help me change!’ I urged him. ‘There are some spare panties in my bag.’
‘Just pull your skirt down and put your shoes on. I’ll stick your wet things in the bag.’
‘No. There is time, just. Quick, my panties!’
He finally responded, searching in the bag futilely. I pulled it away but we were already slowing down. I stood, rummaging frantically and providing a train going the other way with a view of my nappy-clad bottom and bare legs. I couldn’t find the spare panties and we were pulling in, the lights of Victoria Station visible outside the windows. Abandoning the idea of fresh panties, I snatched up my tights, only to discover that they had gone in the pool of pee on the floor and were soaked. Monty laughed and I threw the wet tights at him.
There was no time to do anything but get out of my nappy and pull down my skirt. I grappled for the tabs, stopping as a thud sounded from the end of the carriage. I looked up to find a man pushing at the door between the carriages. In a second he would see me. I snatched my coat shut even as I sat down, right in my own puddle. The man came in, the huge rucksack on his back jamming in the door just long enough to allow me to retrieve my panties and tights. I stuffed them into the bag. The man passed, throwing me a puzzled look as the train finally came to a halt.
Monty was in stitches, clutching his fat sides and shaking with laughter, his expression close to pain.
‘Will you help?’ I demanded as the man left the carriage.
‘Sorry, I can’t,’ he answered, shaking his head, his face still red with laughter.
There was really nothing he could do. I was left to cover my nappy with my skirt and put my shoes back on. That was all I dared, with several people milling around on the platform outside the window, including two in railway uniforms. Outside, I was very glad indeed for my coat. I might have been decent underneath, technically, but it would have been very obvious I had a nappy on under my skirt. It bulged horribly at the front and sides, while I wasn’t at all sure my rear view wouldn’t look peculiar even with the coat.
There was nothing I could do, only endure Monty’s crude laughter as I hurried down the platform in the vain hope of avoiding attention. There were quite a few people about, station officials, a drinking school, a few stragglers from parties, people making for the Gatwick Express. Some saw a few gave me odd looks, but nothing more.
I hurried anyway. This was Victoria, and I had altogether too many friends who used the station and, worse, clients. Even bare legs beneath a coat look pretty strange, and I knew my hair and face would be a mess, despite my efforts to clean up. I was cursing Monty all the way as I crossed the concourse, and seriously considering telling him where to go. I didn’t, knowing full well that my need for what he could give would prove too strong, and that it would only end with me crawling back, for which he would exact a heavy price. I was also cursing myself for getting so easily carried away, and for trusting him. He had completely betrayed me, yet I had known that when it came to attempting to humiliate me sexually he was not to be trusted. To him it was simply a game.
The station was mercifully clear of anyone I knew, but walking down the Buckingham Palace Road seemed altogether too risky. I turned right instead, looping around the back of the station and into quieter roads, with Monty tagging along behind. I was walking fast and he was having trouble keeping up, puffing and calling out for me to slow down. I ignored him until a pair of seedy-looking men stepped out unexpectedly in front of me, one making a remark about the shape of my breasts as they passed. I paused, allowing Monty to waddle up beside me.
‘What’s the hurry?’ he demanded.
‘The hurry is,’ I snapped, ‘that I am in a nappy under my skirt, and it shows!’
‘Only from the back. Anyway, you love that stuff!’
‘Not here! For goodness’ sake, Monty, have you no sense at all?’
‘I thought you’d like it. I thought you’d get off on it.’
He was whining and I drew my breath in to try and calm down.
‘Come on, Gabby,’ he went on. ‘It’s gone midnight. Who’s going to see you? It doesn’t show that much, anyway.’
‘It doesn’t show? Look at it!’ I hissed, and turned to show him.
I put my hand to my bottom, touching the bulge of the nappy. My coat was damp with pee.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘but who’s going to know it’s a nappy? It just looks like you’ve got a disproportionately fat bum…and you’ve wet yourself.’
I opened my mouth, but he had raised his hands in a gesture of defence.
‘Not really,’ he said quickly, ‘more like you sat on a wet bench.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ I admitted. ‘Still, I want to get back quickly. For one thing, it’s cold. Now come on.’
He came, still not as fast as I’d have liked, and making annoying little snickering noises as he went. I ignored him, walking a little way ahead, even though I knew he was enjoying my discomfort immensely and that his eyes would be fixed on the rear of my coat. We reached my street, which was deserted.
‘Can I come up?’ Monty demanded as we reached the door of my flats. Again there was that whining note in his voice.
‘No,’ I insisted. ‘Sorry, but you know you’ll end up missing the last train and staying over.’
‘I won’t, I promise – or if I do, I don’t mind going in the ordinary bedroom. I’ll even tuck you in. A story maybe?’
‘Shh! I do have neighbours, Monty.’
‘Sorry. Come on, Gabby, you know you want it.’
‘I do not. I’m tired.’
‘Oh, come on. Just a coffee, then. I did come back to make sure you were safe.’
‘Yes, so that you could abuse me on the train! In all honesty, Monty…oh, very well, a coffee, no more.’
‘Thanks, Gabby.’
We were already in the hallway of my flats and I knew he would have just followed me upstairs anyway, or made a scene on the l
anding. For all my convictions on not judging people by their physical appearance, I was conscious that not everybody shared my view, in particular my clients. Some had been known to visit me late at night.
One had – Jo Warren, who was standing outside my door.
There were worse people it could have been, but very few. Everything about Monty was anathema to Jo, but especially his weight. To her, being fat represented a level of social undesirability on a par with being a peeping Tom or a panty thief. Monty was two of those things, and quite possibly all three, but fortunately for me only the fat was evident.
‘Hi,’ she greeted me, throwing an uncertain glance at him, as if she couldn’t quite believe it, but otherwise ignoring him.
‘Jocasta, hello,’ I responded, searching frantically for the best line to take. ‘You need to see me?’
‘Urgently,’ she answered. ‘Sorry, it just couldn’t wait. I’ve found the most wonderful way to dispel all the tensions, everything…’
‘A moment, please.’ I interrupted her and turned to Monty, who was standing behind me, looking sulky.
He was no fool, and I knew he would have immediately sensed her distaste. To her, he was someone she would not even want to acknowledge, nor even expect to resent her attitude. He was familiar with the response and tended to get pretty annoyed about it. I could only hope he wouldn’t want to take his anger out on me.
‘Thank you, Monty,’ I addressed him. ‘That was considerate of you. I imagine you will want your usual appointment in the week?’
‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘but I really feel I need a little more, in the circumstances.’
I knew exactly what he meant. The next time I saw him it was going to hurt.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Call me tomorrow. We will discuss it.’
He nodded and started back down the stairs. I let my breath out slowly, thanking him silently for his compliance in my lie. I also felt guilty, as in a sense my behaviour was no better than Jo’s. Then again, I would be punished for it; she would not.
‘Who was that?’ she breathed as he disappeared around the corner of the stairs.
