0 comments/ 53102 views/ 6 favorites The Tube By: ParkerG Ten years Maureen and I had been married. Ten happy years. When I met Maureen she had a rare quality, she was a virgin and I was the only man she had been with until that day. Our love life was excellent, regular sex whenever the urge took us. She would often go braless and if we were sitting in a pub or restaurant I would ask her to loosen her buttons to give me, and sometimes some lucky men, an opportunity to glimpse her unfettered breasts... all 38D of them! Thirty years old and still attracting the looks of envious men. Her raven coloured hair flowing down over her shoulders. Fantasies added to the excitement of our lovemaking. One of her favourites was to have sex with a black man. I suspect this was because one of her work colleagues was a black man who was always paying her compliments about the way she dressed. While fucking her I would ask her questions. Did she think John had a big cock? Would she like to stroke his black knob and feel his balls? Would she like him to stick his pink tongue in her cunt making her cum? All very innocent but exciting especially when she said "Yes" to every question and then orgasmed with my cock pounding in and out of her. It didn't take me long to shoot my lot inside her. After we got our breath back we would laugh and one of us would usually say that it was a pity it was only a fantasy. Maureen never had a desire to go that one step further... until last week. We were spending a couple of days in London and decided to take in an exhibition at Olympia. The weather was unusually warm which allowed Maureen to wear a short skirt, blouse and jacket and go braless. An added touch was she decided to wear stockings and suspenders... always a turn on for me. After we had walked around the exhibition we decided to take the tube from Olympia to Victoria where our hotel was. The tube wasn't very busy and in our compartment there was just us, a Jewish couple and a coloured man. When the tube arrived at Earls Court the Jewish couple got off. Shortly after Earls Court the tube was passing through a tunnel when suddenly it was halted. It was no use trying to look out of the windows to see what was going on, outside the tube was pitch black. "Just great" said the coloured guy "that's the third time this week we've been stuck in this fucking tunnel. Only yesterday we had to stay here for 20 minutes". "Just fucking great!". Maureen just smiled at the guy, probably because his language had caught her by surprise. Just then the train driver announced that owing to a problem with an earlier train our train would be held up for 25 minutes until the line ahead was cleared. "Seems your bad luck is continuing", I said to the coloured man. "Yeah", he replied. "Look I'm sorry for losing it before especially in front of your woman, it's just that this kind of thing pisses you off". "That's OK, said Maureen. " I can understand" and gave the coloured guy one of her best smiles. He smiled back. "Since we're stuck in this mess we'd better make the most of it. I'm Mike you folks on holiday?" "I'm Dave and this is my wife Maureen". We're here for a couple of days, seeing the sights." Maureen looked at me and gave a little wink. I didn't pick up what she meant at first. She then swivelled her backside around to look out of the window. As she moved her skirt rose up her stockinged legs. I looked across at Mike whose gaze was fixed firmly on the area under Maureen's skirt. It was clear that he had a good view of her stocking tops and perhaps even more. Maureen then swivelled round to look out of the window on the other side of her and in so doing was now facing me. "The fantasy"she whispered, "this is it!". I now knew what she meant and I was gobsmacked. I didn't think this would ever happen but the spontaneity of the whole thing made it all seem right. This was, I was certain, the only time this would ever happen. I looked at Mike again. His eyes were still fixed on Maureen's legs or should I say crotch. Her latest movement had brought her panties into clear view and there was no mistaking that Mike was enjoying the picture. The bulge in his pants was very evident. I moved my hand to gently tap Maureen's inner leg. "Hey, you're showing yourself off I laughed". "What" Maureen said in mock surprise. "Oh god I'm sorry", looking at Mike. "I didn't realise I was flaunting myself". "Don't apologise" said Mike "I was enjoying the show as you can probably tell" he said looking down at his crotch. "I can see that" I said "and it sure looks hungry for a feast". I put my hand on Maureen's crotch and started rubbing her fanny through her panties. Mike's hand started to rub his cock. "Do you mind if I have a closer look at that white pussy?" he asked. "I'm sure she doesn't" I replied "why not come over here". Mike came and sat on the opposite side of Maureen. He put his hand onto her mound and started squeezing her pussy lips. "Hell" he said "your woman is soaking wet. Move out of the way". I stood up and he pulled an unresisting Maureen around on the bench seat by her legs so that she was now lying full length along the carriage seat. He slid his hands up the outside of her thighs forcing her skirt up towards her waist revealing her panties and suspenders. He gripped her panties and pulled them away from her black thatch. "Oh nice" he said and proceeded to finger fuck the soaking fanny. First one finger, then two and then three. In and out he pushed and pulled his fingers each stroke bringing a fresh sigh from Maureen's lips. Her back arched she pushed her hips further down towards Mike's fingers forcing him to explore her more deeply. "God she's hot" said Mike "and ready for fucking. Come here Dave. Keep her well oiled while I get my cock out of these trousers." He took his fingers out and I replaced them with my own keeping the momentum going. Mike unzipped his flies and pulled out his throbbing knob. I have to admit envy as I looked at the black monster in his hand. Eight inches of pure black meat, not particularly long but the thickness was something to be admired. As fat as a black pudding roll hanging in a butchers shop. When Maureen saw the monster in his hand her eyes widened and she exhaled her breath. "Do you want this bitch, do you want a black cock to stretch that pussy of yours?" "Yes" whispered Maureen, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" "Take your hand away Dave." Mike then shoved his fingers once again into Maureen's cunt getting them covered in her juices and then rubbed the liquid over his cock. "Pull your cunt lips apart" he ordered and Maureen obliged. The head of the black cock was slowly pushed into the waiting love hole. As it slowly disappeared Maureen's head thrashed from side to side her breathing shallower and rapid. "Oh hell" she cried out, "it's stretching me." Mike continued to feed it in little by little. "Ooooooh, aaaaaaaah, god it feels so big, so lovely. Keep it coming". "Don't worry" said Mike, "I will". When his whole length had been swallowed he started to slowly withdraw. "Don't take it out, please" said Maureen. "No way honey" and with that he plunged back into her again. Now his movements were speeding up. Every time his cock reached its depth and his balls were smacking against her crotch Maureen issued a long sigh. "It's so good, so fucking good. Fuck me hard. Steamroller me just don't take it out! Make me cum, oh god make me cum!!!!!" His black backside moved faster and faster, the sweat stood up on his brow. With his outstretched arms either side of Maureen's head he looked at me. "Let's see her tits Dave, open her blouse". One by one I loosened the buttons until her magnificent globes were fully exposed. "God look at those tits" Dave whispered "just swinging around ready for attention." He lowered his head and took one of the dark brown nipples between his teeth. Slowly he pulled his head back and the nipple extended an inch. He released the bud and the nipple stuck up firm and rigid. Again he lowered his head and sucked the bud, just like a baby. By this time Maureen was thrashing around and whimpering uncontrollably. "I'm cuuummmmmiiiiinnnnggggg" she cried as her orgasm hit her "Ohhhhhhhhh". Her pelvis thrust back and forth as the orgasm ripped through her body. Her convulsions triggered Mike's own orgasm and he delivered copious amounts of cum into Maureen's receptive fanny. After a few seconds he removed his still stiff prick and wiped the last dregs of his cum on Maureen's hairy thatch. "That was great" said Maureen, "so bloody great". "It ain't over yet" said Mike. "What do you mean it isn't over" I asked "you've just fucked my wife, shot your load what do you mean it isn't over?" "Get on your knees" he told Maureen. "I can't take any more, I'm completely drained. Just let me relax". "I said get on your knees bitch and I mean now!" Maureen looked at him with frightened eyes. "She's had enough" I said. "Not 'til I'm finished" said Mike. "Now I won't ask again, get on your knees". Maureen slowly turned round until she was on her knees her backside level with Mike's still stiff cock. "Good" he said and then ripped her panties away from her body. Again he stuck his fingers in her cunt soaking his fingers in the mix of both his and her love juices. This time he smeared the goo around her asshole. "Oh no, please no. I can't take it in the ass, not a monster like yours." "Of course you can" Mike laughed. "Dave just in case she screams shove your cock in her mouth. We don't want to attract attention". Almost zombie like I did as I was told. I couldn't just stand with my cock between her lips so I started fucking her mouth. Maureen responded, slowly at first but then more quickly. When she had a good rhythm going Mike spread her ass cheeks and pushed his cockhead into her asshole. Maureen tried to scream out but my cock prevented her from doing so. Slowly more of the black stem disappeared up her ass and now Maureen was sucking my cock with much more enthusiasm. Seeing her beautiful tits swinging free I rolled the nipples between my fingers and thumbs. She thrust her ass back towards Mike's groin. He had a steady rythmn going and this was matched by Maureen's action on my cock. The sounds of her slurping on my cock were in stereo to the noise of Mike's reaming her asshole. I could feel my spunk building up in my balls as Maureen's sucking took on a more frenzied motion. Clearly she was starting her own orgasm. Faster and faster she sucked and suddenly my cum was on the move. I grabbed the back of her head as my load exploded into her mouth. She continued her sucking, draining every drop from my satiated weapon, swallowing everything that I gave her. Now Mike was reaching the point of no return. Faster and faster his black love tube went in and out of that lovely ass. "Ahh, ahh, aahhhhhhh" cried Maureen, " now, now, let it go" and as if on cue Mike gave one last push, lifting Maureen's hips right off the seat. He held her there for what seemed seconds as his seed shot up into her orifice. His hands holding her hips tightly his eyes tightly closed. Finally he collapsed on Maureen's back. He uncoupled himself from Maureen and sat back down on the seat. Before he could put his cock back in his trousers Maureen put her lips to his rapidly shrinking cock and licked it clean, finally planting a kiss right on the end. "Thanks for helping to pass the time" she said, winking at Mike "keep my panties as a souvenir they might help you to think nice thoughts next time your stuck on the tube". She rubbed them across her leaking fanny and stuffed them in his pocket. Mike kissed her full on the lips then kissed each of her nipples before slowly fastening the buttons on her blouse. Seconds later the tube re-commenced its journey and no more words were spoken until Maureen and I got off at Victoria. "Goodbye" she said, a tear in her eye. Mike and I just shook hands. The Tube It was cold and rainy. Her hair was damp, her clothes were wet, and the heel of her shoe broke when she stepped off the platform and onto the train. "Fuck," she uttered. Apparently this was received as an invitation by the man sitting on the far side of the car, although she didn't realize it. He was probably five foot eleven, maybe six feet if he stretched. Blue eyes. Athletic build. Ski cap covering his head, some blonde hair peeking out around his cheeks. Too obvious to be her type. She turned away without making eye contact. She'd been staying late at the office for the past two weeks, working on a big project. She needed this to impress her boss, a real jackass, to get the promotion she desperately wanted. The sun had long since drifted below the trees and the only light came from the fluorescent bulbs in the tunnels connecting the city underground. The doorway to the train closed and she was alone with him. No one rode the tube this late at night. He seemed harmless enough, but she soon to found out he was anything but. "Fuck," she repeated as she slipped the strap over her ankle, removing first the broken left shoe and then the unbroken right, tucking them into her bag, now standing on the cold metal floor in her stockinged feet. She drew in her breath and her lungs were assaulted by the smell of sneakers, sweat and urine. She hated the tube. As the train lurched out of the station, she grabbed onto the metal pole in front of her to keep from losing her balance. As they rolled away from the platform, the man stood and grabbed the pole beside her. "Horrible day," she said under her breath. Leave me the fuck alone, she thought in her head. He said nothing but looked her over from head to toe. Twice, his eyes lingering on her body like hands on a velvet dress. A shiver run through her body. She turned toward the window and watched as the graffiti covered walls of the underground whirred past in an unrecognizable blur. Before she realized what was happening, he was behind her, inches from her, his breath hot and insistent on her neck. As she prepared to turn and ask what the fuck he was doing, she felt a sudden shock as his ice cold hand crept beneath her skirt, invading her, touching her---fondling her. With his other hand, strong and firm, he grabbed her wrists, which were already gripping the steel pole before her and quickly wound a rope around them. sliding them above her head, securing them. Oh my god. "Spread your legs," he ordered. She opened her mouth to scream but his hand covered it before she could make a sound. "Don't open your fucking mouth. Don't think about screaming. There's nobody here." He grabbed her ass with his hand and squeezed tight. "Now. spread your fucking legs apart." She complied, moving her legs a few inches in either direction. He shook his head. "Farther." She spread them farther, her kness trembling, her arms aching already. "Please. Don't hurt me," she whispered. He ignored her and slapped her thigh. "Good girl." She stood motionless as his finger continued to explore the lines of her underwear and all of the secrets contained beneath. Against her will, his expert hand caused something in her to stir. It had been months since she'd been with a man and his hands felt good even though she hadn't invited them to touch her. She felt wet bleed through the soft silk, betraying her, and fought off embarassment---a girl wasn't supposed to get hot when she was being forced. Unfortunately, there was no way to hide her indiscretion. "You like it, don't you, you dirty little whore?" He whispered in her ear. He sounded disgusted and pleased at the same time. She said nothing, only closed her eyes and waited for whatever came next. He pulled on her underwear, stroking her ass cheeks and playing around her clit in the wetness that spread fast. He yanked at her underwear until they lay in a puddle by her shoeless feet. A quiver ran through her body and she closed her eyes as a tiny moan escaped her mouth. God. How embarassing. He slid his hand back underneath her skirt and simultaneously bit her ear, pulling on the lobe until he drew blood, which he wiped with his finger and painted on her lips. He forcibly turned her until she stood facing the pole, straddling it. It vibrated between her legs like a huge sex toy, just for her, underground, in the dark of night. She bit her lip to keep from screaming. As the train slowed and the doors opened into a deep, empty station, the pole shamelessly stopped shaking. She let out her breath, which she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Awww. Little slut liked the shaking train pole against her dirty cunt?" She said nothing. As the train gradually built speed again, pulling away from the platform, he held her against the waiting pole and kept her there, pushing her pussy tight against the shaking metal, not relenting, his fingers under her skirt, working her clit. He knelt down then and with an evil smile disappeared under the folds of her skirt. The cap on his head was rough and the stubble on his face felt like a thousand tiny pins in her throbbing thighs. It turned her on even though she didn't want it to and her pussy began to drip shamelessly. His tongue went to work then, deliberately licking her inner thighs, inches from her pleasure hole, until she felt lightheaded and dizzy from her impending orgasm. She strained against her tied wrists, but it only pulled them tighter. He plunged his tongue deep into her waiting sex, juices like nectar, which he sucked with great abandon. He peeked out from underneath and ordered, "No cumming." "Oh, god," she moaned and closed her eyes, standing on tiptoes. It was a pointless gesture; she couldn't escape his tongue no matter how much she stretched her legs. He disappeared again under the folds of her skirt to lap at her throbbing lips, feasting gleefully on her desperation, licking and tasting. He built a steady rhythm and before long she was grinding against him. He ran his tongue down the length of her thigh. Her knees were so weak that if she hadn't been tied tight to the pole, she would have fallen. He stood again, his hand remaining underneath and inside of her, running tight circles on her clit. He stared at her face, daring her to come. "Bitch. You want to come so bad, don't you?" Little drops of spit from his mouth landed on her cheek. He pushed harder, ground harder on her clit, forcing all four fingers on his hand into her cunt. While his hand fucked her, holding steady, his other hand pressed firmly against her breasts, first on top of her sweater, and then underneath. He massaged them, crushed them, grabbing onto her nipples and pulling them hard until they were so far from her body, so tight and sore, twisting and pinching until he finally released them and they bounced back into place, burning and red hot. His breath was warm again as he stood and licked her neck, pulled her hair. He yanked her neck back and thrust his tongue into her mouth. He sucked on her tongue, then her neck, leaving a purple bruise in his wake. Then both hands moved, slowly, wickedly, under her skirt again, toying with her pussy. He teased and taunted, touching and pinching, never entering. She could feel his hard cock against her thigh like a thick rope, pressing against the jeans he wore, ready to burst through. She wondered when he would use it. If he would use it. And she wondered if it would fit. It pulsated against her legs, ready and willing. Without warning he shoved his thumb into the crease of her ass and then into her tight hole. He rammed it in and out as she clenched to try to prevent him from fucking her ass. It was no use. He fucked her tiny hole until she could strain against it no longer and he grew bored. He pushed her face hard against the steel pole, holding it there, her cheek crushed against the metal until she tasted blood on the inside of her mouth, like bitter tin. "My turn," he said as his fingers, rough like sandpaper, trailed up and down her thighs, dragging her own wetness across her like body paint. In a single motion, he pulled his dick from his pants and slammed it into her ass, ripping her flesh with the girth and force of it. He was huge; bigger than she'd anticipated, his thick shaft filling every inch of her, stretching her, forcing her tiny body to take in more of his throbbing dick. She moaned and he laughed. He continued to work, first in and out at lightning pace and then agonizingly slow, deliberately moving it in a circular motion and from side to side, rubbing her clit with his fingers. It was too much and she came before he did. "You whore," he said breathlessly. He pushed his cock so far into her that she sucked in her breath and stood on tiptoes to try to take it all in, hoping it wasn't going to tear straight through her, not caring if it did. He finally removed his cock from her weakened ass and repositioned himself. He lifted her up off the ground with one muscular hand to fit every last inch of his manhood inside her, pulsing and pushing. He left it there until tears streamed down her cheeks. He pulled it out so langorously that she felt faint. He worked it again, in and out, slow and full, pinching her nipples and rubbing her clit in unison with his rhythm. And she came again, moaning and writhing, trying to free her wrists, still tied tight to the pole. He pleasured himself then, pulling his dick part of the way out and pounding it back in, exploding inside of her like a freight train, his sex dripping down her legs and wetting her underwear puddled on the floor. She closed her eyes and it was his turn to moan. When he was finished, he pulled his dick out of her cunt fast and painfully, with no regard for her. He slid her wrists down the pole until they rested on the pole by her waist. "Kneel down." She turned awkwardly to face him, seeing him for the first time since he had raped her. His dick was immense and she couldn't imagine it had actually fit inside of her, yet there it was, still fully erect, her cum mixed with his and dripping off the shaft. Her eyes trailed up his chest and rested on his face. It was blank. "Kneel down," he repeated. She knelt before him, her arms still strapped, making it difficult to turn and face his bobbing cock. "Clean me off. With your mouth." He motioned to her face. She leaned forward slowly, the muscles in her arms screaming in agony. She took his erect shaft into her mouth and gingerly sucked. "Harder." She looked up at him, while keeping her mouth tightly on his dick. She tried to lean forward far enough to take it all in, but she gagged and choked. He grabbed her by the hair. "Clean the whole thing. Top to bottom." He pointed to his ball sac. "Bottom," he emphasized. She went to work again, fighting past the urge to vomit. She slid it in and as it touched the back of her throat, she opened up and deep throated him, sucking the cum from his dick. He leaned back, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Good girl." She paused to catch her breath and he came back to reality fast. "Keep it up, bitch." She moved her mouth along his long, hard cock, pulling it into her mouth, sucking on it like a straw. His cum came fast and hit the back of her throat. She coughed and accidentally bit his dick. He pulled his cock from her mouth and slapped her face, leaving a pink imprint in its wake. He grabbed his pants, waiting around his ankles, and pulled them up, looking at her. "You want me to untie you?" He reached for the rope. "Maybe I should leave you here for the next unlucky guy." She spoke, her throat dry, her voice raspy. "Please," was all she could muster. He yanked up her underwear, his fingers finding their way into her sore and used pussy one last time. She gasped and he laughed. Then he unleashed the rope and her wrists dropped to her side, throbbing as strong as her clit. The train slowed and stopped once more and he said, "This is me," and he exited through the open doors as if they'd just ridden home together after a long day at work. She fell in heap to the floor of the train, no idea where she was or how to get home, bruises spreading on her newly freed wrists and no doubt on her pussy as well, all to match the marks on her neck and cheek. And a smile crept onto her face. The Tube--How I became a Sextoy The truth of the matter is that I have always wanted to be gang-fucked by a roomful of women. Don't get me wrong: I don't like pain, or shame, or humiliation, and I don't like being outed or laughed at. And the fact that I'm a priest sort of puts a damper on the whole "How would you ladies like to cluster around me, strip and control me, and use my naked body repeatedly, at will?" thing. Even if I knew a group of women who'd be into that, who I love and trust enough to blurt out something like that, I could never actually *do* that. Let's face it: secrets always get out, and even if they promised to never tell, someone would. And then the Bishop would find out, and I'd be screwed, and not in a good way. Oh, and in case you're wondering, the Bishop is a somewhat... Oh, ok, he's a completely ugly guy; not my thing at all. Anyway, I figured that my desire to be gang-fucked would have to remain an unfulfilled erotic daydream. It probably would have been if I hadn't met Sara. Sara was new in town, nearly twenty, single, and a cute 5'2" redhead with a short almost-buzz-cut hairstyle that actually made my balls throb the first time I met her. She came into the church one Tuesday afternoon looking to volunteer in the daycare "...or join the choir or something." She said that she figured that volunteering at Church would be a great way to meet people since she'd lived in town for all of three days so far, and didn't know a soul. I've gotten a lot of practice at checking out sexy women without giving myself away, and let me tell you, I checked Sara a lot that first day! She was slender without being skinny, leggy without being tall, and muscular without being akin to Schwarzenegger. Her ass was tight and delightfully rounded and her boobs were firm and feminine. To me, guessing at cup size is about as interesting as measuring sifted flour, so I wouldn't know where to start--I can honestly say that her low-cut shirt mastered my complete attention right away, and that I had to concentrate to keep from Freudian-slipping the word "cleavage" into our conversation. Also, there was something so hot and youthfully tender about her face, that I repeatedly found myself daydreaming about resting my throbbing cock and balls on her cheek, her chin, her forehead and eyes, and about running my erection through her hair! Her clear, strong voice--like crystalline bells--haunted my nights, and I couldn't keep my hands out of my pants every time I heard her speaking in my mind! I imagined her holding her choir robes and saying things like "Is there somewhere I should undress?" I knew her voice so completely that I knew it was her immediately when she stepped into the confessional and said "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." She told me that she had uncontrollable carnal thoughts. She found herself inventing scenarios in which she stripped boys naked and gave them to her friends. She developed intricate devices which would allow a boy to be completely exposed "down there," but also to remain completely unknown to the girls she shared him with. She admitted that she had even built a contraption she called "The Tube" for that purpose. "The guy steps into two leg-holsters that conceal his legs from the thighs down and keep his, um, lap totally exposed. And then he clasps his hands behind his back, and The Tube engulfs his whole upper body and conceals his identity, and everything from the bellybutton up," she explained. She told me that she was in trouble. She had promised a bunch of her new girlfriends that she would give them a man in The Tube that evening, but come to find out, the guy was married, and she "couldn't see doing that to his wife." As she talked, I was getting harder and harder, and as much as I tried to conceal it, I know she was becoming aware of how turned on I was. I knew that I should stop her, that I should tell her something--anything--that would convince her to end her sinful desires, but I couldn't. I imagined myself naked in her Tube, imagined that she was checking me out, that she was one of the women in the room holding my cock, caressing my living balls. I imagined that she was sucking me while her topless girlfriends watched. I imagined that she was lubing my ass with her finger and pressing her vibe into my horny flesh while her girlfriends took turns impaling their pussies on my stone hard erection. My hands involuntarily slid into my lap, and as she continued to tell me about the degenerate ways she would have her friends fuck the man in The Tube, I massaged myself until I was impossibly erect. As she spoke in that pure-sex voice, I eased my zipper open and pulled myself out. I couldn't control myself! I had to stroke off! Sara told me how desperate she was not to be humiliated by being unable to procure a man for her friends. She told me that she needed a guy who needed to be thrust into The Tube and fondled by a crowd of women who would never know who he was. The thought of being that man was getting me so hot that she heard me stroking myself! She heard me moaning as I imagined her bent at the waist and fucking herself up the ass with my fully anonymous cock! She heard me coming while she confessed to me! My God! I was so busted! "Father!" she said. "I can't believe it!" "I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!" "You were--" she gasped. "You just had an--" "Oh my God!" I gasped. "Please don't tell anyone!" "But you--!" "Please, Sara! I'll do anything!" "Oh my God! You know who I am!" "Please Sara! Don't tell!" She stopped talking, stopped breathing, stopped everything. She didn't say a word, but I could hear the thought drop into her mind as plain as banging pots and pans. "Father," she said. "Do you mean you'll do *anything*?" "Put me in The Tube!" I begged. "Just don't tell anyone!" "You want me to put *you* in "The Tube?" I couldn't speak. I was terrified of what I'd just said, terrified of what would happen if she told anyone! And I was completely hard again in my hand! "Yes!" I whispered. I started stroking again. "Put me in The Tube! I'm so horny!" "Oh, Father!" she laughed. The smile in her voice was contagious, and I knew. Without a doubt, I knew that she would Tube me for her friends. And for herself. She wouldn't tell anyone! She would keep me a secret, and she would share me with every slut in town! The Tube Ordeal The second outfit has arrived, the package is on my bed. I've showered, shaved and oiled as the instructions said and now have no excuse not to open it and discover my fate for this afternoon. Opening the box brings an interestingly pungent smell to my nostrils, peeling away the layers of tissue reveals black shiny material, I sigh gently and pull the various items from the box and lay them on the bed. Naked now I take a small tin of talc and lightly powder my legs, from toes all the way up to the top of my thighs. This is necessary as the first item I have to put on is a pair of black latex stockings. I roll them and slip the first one over my toes, easing my foot into it and sliding the rubber over my heel. Gradually smoothing the latex over my foot I ease them a little higher, careful to avoid wrinkles and twists. Over the knee and up the thigh, the latex gripping me tightly as I stretch it almost to my crotch. The top has a thin studded strap attached, this I fasten around my thigh, threading it through the small silver buckle and drawing it tight around my leg. In the absence of suspenders this will keep the stocking from sliding down. The second latex stocking follows the first, sliding on to my other leg, both now encased in ultra-thin skin tight glossy black rubber. A ridiculously small black latex thong follows, barely cupping my naked pubis and cutting high up between my buttocks. A sheer gauzy blouse in a semi-transparent grey material goes on my top (no bra this time?). Buttoned up to a high mandarin neck but with quite puffy sleeves buttoned at the wrist, it looks expensive and trashy at the same time. The skirt is short, very short. It's made from very shiny black PVC with a zip up the back. It slides up the latex stockings with a sibilant sound and once fastened squeaks against the rubber every time I move my legs. At least the stockings are long enough that I don't reveal the tops (but it's a close thing). The shoes are next, black patent strappy sandals with 5" stiletto heels. I slip my latex clad foot into the toe of the first one and fasten the three thin straps around my leg just above the ankle. The other follows and I stand relatively confidently, feeling about ten feet tall but not sure just how easily I will walk in them. I practise a little, sashaying up and down my bedroom, getting the feel of the shoes and rolling my hips to compensate for the heels, skirt squeaking all the time. I clip the onyx teardrop earrings on my lobes as specified, the silver settings contrasting with the black stones. A matching pendant dangles from a silver chain around my neck. My makeup includes the glossy dark red lipstick you bought me and your favourite silver-grey metallic eyeshadow. Lastly the gloves. Little glossy black latex gloves that come just to my wrists where they buckle with little studded straps that match those on the stockings. I wriggle my fingers right to the ends and ease the rest of my hand in, making sure that the rubber is tight against my skin. An aerosol of silicone spray is included in the package and a generous application makes the gloves and the stockings shine in the light from my bedside lamps. Re-reading the note I phone for a taxi and fetch my black plastic Mac from the wardrobe. I slip this on, grab my clutch bag and I'm waiting on the steps as the Taxi pulls up. "Oxford Circus" I tell the driver as I settle into the back of the cab, trying hard not to squeak too much. I pay the driver and carefully get out. I can see you waiting by the entrance to the underground, leaning on the railings. I walk up beside you, conscious of your eyes on me. "You look good Chrissie, if a little apprehensive". I swallow and give you a smile, wondering what's next for me. "Here, take this into the public toilets there, I'll see you on the Southbound Bakerloo platform when you're ready". You walk off, leaving me with a small, elegantly wrapped parcel. I quickly walk to the toilets and negotiate the steps down. Locking myself in a cubicle I strip the paper off the box and open it. Inside nestle two chrome silver balls a little smaller than golf balls, a short cord joining them. A note says simply "In your pussy, don't tell me it's not wet". I open the Mac and sit on the seat, opening my legs and pulling the silly little thong to one side. Two fingers verify that I am anything but dry. The balls are cold when I pick them up, colder still as I press the first one against my bald pussy. I use the fingers of my other hand to spread myself and a firm push and my own lubrication does the rest, the cold ball feeling huge as it slips inside me. The second follows the first and I feel an extremely strange sensation as they click together inside me. I rearrange the thong to cover myself, stand up and smooth down the skirt. Belting the Mac again I flush the toilet and leave the cubicle. As I climb the steps and then descend into the tube station I can feel the balls inside me. Evidently they have smaller balls inside that roll around as I walk, giving me little tremors inside my pussy at every step. I purchase my day travel card and go down the escalator, eventually finding my way to the Bakerloo platform. Not too many people at the moment as it's about 3.30, but it will start to pick up soon. I see you at the very end of the platform, standing alone and gazing into the depths of the black tunnel from which the train will come. "Ah good girl, are they in?" a nod from me brings a smile. "And they are comfortable?". A second nod and a broader smile "good, now face me and open the Mac". I face away from the fairly empty platform and unbelt the Mac, holding it open so you can see me properly. "Very nice Chrissie, you make an excellent latex tart. I have just one more enhancement, stay like that". So saying you unbutton my blouse, pulling it open until my breasts are on display, my nipples semi hard. You note this and dip your head, giving each a quick suck and bringing a sharp gasp from me. "I need these hard" you say, pinching each firmly and making me squirm as I stand there holding the Mac open. "Good, that's better". You reach into your pocket and bring out what at first I think are another pair of earrings to match those I already wear. Then as you open the clip on one and slip it over my nipple I see what they are, matching nipple jewellery! As the clamp closes on my hard nipple I groan. The pain is quite sharp at first, then tails off to a dull ache. Another pinch on my other nipple and the second clamp is attached, bringing another small groan. "Excellent", you say as you look down at my nipples, squeezed into a silly, flat shape by the clamps. They are sticking out straight, unable to shrink or droop. Buttoning my blouse you admire my suffering nipples. They can be clearly seen as hard lumps under the thin material, the pendant jewellery moving under the blouse as I breathe. "Now, here comes the train Chrissie, your task is merely to travel to ten different stations on the tube. You must disembark at each one before travelling to the next, and you must not sit on the train, you may only travel standing. When you have finished I'll see you at my place and we'll see just how wet you are after travelling London dressed as a cheap fetish whore. Now give me your Mac" I slowly slip the Mac off and pass it to him, realising just what I must look like. Stood here in my rubber stockings, PVC skirt and as-good-as see through blouse with my poor clamped nipples sticking out like mini-beacons. As the train pulls in and I turn to board it, you pass me one more thing. "It's a throwaway camera Chrissie. At each station I want you to ask some helpful gentleman passer-by to take your picture by the station sign, for proof. I'm sure you'll find willing volunteers and if they happen to request a particular pose, you WILL comply! Now go, and don't return until you have pictures from ten different stations". I step carefully onto the train, my legs trembling and my tummy fluttering from the vibrations coming from the chrome balls in my pussy. I see the eyes of the commuters turn to me and stare, some look away, but others don't. I can only pray that I don't get too many hands up my skirt as the crowd continues to push in behind me. A forlorn hope, I think, as the city gent next to me carefully looks the other way as his brolly handle rubs firmly against my plastic coated buttocks . . .