[Tokyo Slut] (01-02)

Tokyo's slut.

On a crowded train, I saw a woman lusting after a man's penis.

Her face was flushed, her shoulders swaying, and she was panting heavily...

It's my turn now!

Let you rub my penis to your heart's content, and let you have your fun.

See, you said no, but you're soaking wet now, aren't you?

You're a complete "slut."

Encountering perverts on crowded trains is common, but since it's just a one-time pleasure, she became increasingly intoxicated by

being touched. In a metropolitan apartment, a woman was restless every night, suppressing her desires, and

her underwear lust. Although she vowed not to indulge anymore, once she realized it, she was just a woman infatuated. After all, women

are tragic, burdened by a predetermined fate and manipulated by it. This is a mysterious story.

(I) Has a year passed too quickly? Don't talk nonsense. Only overly idle students and working women who only know how to act coquettishly would have the

leisure to think about such questions .

As a hardworking salaried worker, just

maintaining a fixed weekly revenue is enough to make each day feel like an eternity. I thought I'd finally

made it through year, but in reality…

all that's left is to sing karaoke at the year-end party and do some deep cleaning, and then it'll all be over. Then, one morning at the end of

December this happened.

As usual, I was swaying in the sardine-can-like tram, casually glancing at the sports newspaper in the hand of

the passenger . This

happened after I boarded, standing not far from the door, my right hand holding my briefcase, my left gripping the crossbar, struggling against the violent swaying of the tram.

Standing a well-built high school student, seemingly innocent, but suspicious. No matter how stuffy the tram was, his face

would never be flushed; it was odd. He seemed to be straining to suppress something.

As usual, there was a bald, middle-aged man with slicked-back hair oil reading a sports newspaper between me and the high school student

. At first, I could only catch glimpses of him occasionally as the train swayed, but then…

In front of the tall, slender high school student in his dark navy uniform, there seemed to be a woman. Her long hair was draped

over the student's clothes, so her age and appearance were unknown. I was simply curious about this scene,

so I shifted my gaze from the newspaper and stared directly at them.

Since the arrival of the so-called "Friday Wives," land prices on the Tokyo Metro's Shin-Tamagawa Line have

skyrocketed, while the parallel Odakyu Line has become popular with white-collar workers and working women. This subway line, connecting

Odawara , Fujiwara, and the suburban area of Shinjuku, has

become increasingly busy since connecting to the Chiyoda Line. During peak hours, the chaotic crowds increase year after year. Taking advantage of this surge in demand, I tried to

rent an apartment in Seijo, a high-end residential area adjacent to the rural area of Chofu, but I failed.

Indeed , if you printed "Seijo, Setagaya-ku, Kyoto" on your business card,

you'd likely make a great impression on potential employers during casual conversations, because the daily rush hour commute is incredibly arduous. Every day

at 8:30 , to exaggerate a bit, you have to struggle through crowds to board the train. After all that pushing

and shoving, by the time you arrive at the office, you're too exhausted to concentrate on work. From Seijo to Shinjuku Station, the express train takes about

30 minutes. During the journey, the door on my right only opens at one station, meaning that for those

30 minutes, the area is essentially a closed-off space. Perhaps calling it a dark zone wouldn't be an exaggeration.

I faintly heard rapid, panting moans, not from the high school student, but from the girl

. A question flashed through my mind, and simultaneously, using the swaying of the train, I

pushed the bald man reading the sports newspaper to the right, thus getting closer to the high school student and the woman.

However, an unbelievable scene unfolded: the high school student's zipper was down,

and his magnificent member stood erect and taut. But atop his penis, five things of a different color—fingers

, the woman's five fingers—moved up and down with a seemingly alive force

, completely controlling his penis. Their rhythmic movements were almost mechanical.

As these slender, white fingers applied subtle variations in pressure to his penis, the seventeen-year-old high school student

trembled convulsively, his mouth emitting suppressed gasps. The woman slid

up , moaning unrestrainedly, as if playing with a pet. Oblivious to everyone around her, she

continued this sexual game. My penis was also erect; in this

scene , even a saint would be unable to resist an erection. The wolfish blood within me had reached its peak.

Suddenly, I ripped open the woman's black coat and grabbed her breasts. Instantly, the woman's body trembled. When

our eyes met, she seemed only slightly startled before pressing herself back against the high school student, immersed in the torrent of

lust .

I used to think only old maids would do such things, but this was a very young woman, around twenty years old

, who looked like a working woman. Because of my excitement, I used more force

to pinch and play with her nipples. She didn't mind at all and let me caress her body as I pleased. She even

seemed to enjoy playing with the high school student's penis. I unzipped my pants with my right hand, took out my warm penis, and at the same time pulled

the woman's left wrist over, forcing her to hold it. She didn't resist at all and instead held it very actively

. When she held it, she convulsed again. With a "Ah," she finally cried out.

This was the legendary "slut." Just as I was immersed in this lustful thought, the woman and the high school student

were pushed out of the right-side door by the crowd at Yoyogi-Uehara Station, leaving me alone, with my penis throbbing, watching them leave.

(II)

The end of the year is approaching again, and I can finally feel a little free and relaxed.

At this point, I was too lazy to join my classmates' ski trip, and too lazy to go back to the countryside. It seemed I'd be

spending alone in my apartment. For a

white-collar worker constantly worried about improving performance, bringing a woman home to cook and serve him wasn't a big deal, but for me, it

was definitely out of reach. At most, I could only wear a new suit and use my year-end bonus to go to a bathhouse or massage parlor for some fun.

Using this kind of professionalism as a outlet for venting really displeased me, because the aftermath only made me feel nauseous.

I wanted to have a decent year-end, so I went shopping. On New Year's Eve, the shopping crowds were greatly reduced, and

many stores were selling at half price, some even dumping items at a 50% discount, all in an effort to have a good New Year. New Year's always

requires decent food, so I headed towards Ueno Station. To kill time, I carried my bags and went to

one of the adjacent movie theaters. Now, at over twenty-five, still living this miserable life is truly

heartbreaking. Although a New Year's special was being shown, there were very few viewers.

It took me a while to adjust to the darkness, and after hesitating for a moment, I found a seat on the right side of the aisle as usual

. I occupied two seats; one was obviously for my cute snacks. Walking to the right, I saw

some couples, but it was completely irrelevant to me. So I opened a can of beer and, ignoring the "No Smoking" sign,

slowly lit a cigarette. I was temporarily engrossed in the movie, but then I thought about how others might think I was watching a

horror I stretched and glanced around.

After getting used to the darkness, I stopped stretching when I caught sight of the woman on the right side of the aisle. This woman seemed familiar…

Not a working woman, not a girl from the nearby grocery store, not a classmate from my hometown, and certainly

not a bathhouse attendant. But I knew very well I had seen this woman before. I kept thinking, kept staring

at the woman. Black coat, gray two-piece skirt, long hair…

In the darkness, I saw a seductive, twitching, white hand. The palm seemed to

disappear into the darkness, only the part above the wrist was visible because the sleeve was rolled up, twitching on its own.

When I looked closer, I saw that the hand was buried in the crotch of the man sitting next to her.

It was that "slut." My intuition told me it had to be her. They didn't look like

a couple . I had a feeling it was going to happen, and later I learned that the woman had pretended to sit next to the man by chance, and then began her

sexual harassment. I couldn't watch the movie anymore; the scene in the tram car kept replaying in my mind, and my lust was rising

. While the woman was stroking the man's crotch with her right hand, she was using her left hand to lift her skirt, pulling her pantyhose and

underwear down to her knees. Needless to say, she wanted the man to also caress her wet and hairy vulva.

The man was stroking her vulva very boldly, and the woman correspondingly quickened her thrusting. The two of them faced the screen,

pretending not to know each other. Finally, I don't know which one got tired of it, but the woman suddenly stood up, and as

she walked towards the exit, I couldn't help but stand up as well.

As the woman was about to push open the exit door, I vaguely grabbed her wrist. She glanced back at me with a look that seemed both threatening and

fearful , her body trembling slightly. But I had no time to heed

the desire in her eyes. Without a word, I dragged the woman to the last row of handrails, pulled her close, and pressed my lips to

hers. She was speechless, of course, and tried to escape. I grabbed her breasts with my left hand and whispered in her

ear , "Let my cock have some pleasure too." At that moment, the woman suddenly stopped resisting.

I didn't know what was happening. Her desire was already high, so disregarding her reaction,

I pulled out my "gun" and, as if reenacting the scene on the tram, forced her to hold it.

With a moan that was hard to speak, she tightly gripped my erect penis.

What a beautiful thrusting motion, her beautiful fingers greedily devouring my cock. She stroked the base of my

penis, then pinched the glans between her index and middle fingers, rubbing my most sensitive spot with her thumb. This

excited immensely. Suddenly, she made a ring with her index and thumb, encircling the tip of my penis, and wrapped the base with her other fingers,

beginning to rub it up and down. I couldn't help but exhale a "lustful breath," while my hands were not idle.

My hand forcefully slipped under her skirt, gently entering from above her panties, slowly sliding into her hairy

cleft. As I slid deeper into the cleft, I felt a thick, warm fluid oozing out.

Just as I rubbed this purple fluid, the vertical cleft opened up. When it was fully open, I

inserted and felt a small, hard protrusion. As I stroked her small, erect penis, she trembled again,

her body swaying like waves. I had to support her with my right hand. I had reached my climax and was about to

ejaculate . When I released my right hand, the woman fell to the ground. I took the opportunity to shove my penis into her

mouth and began thrusting violently back and forth. Afterward, the woman ran out of the theater. I was

exhausted slumped on the ground, too weak to chase after her.

This was the first time I had ever experienced anything like this. It was a wonderful experience, a

mysterious , even more depraved than that

. It was the thrill of secretly performing a blasphemous ritual, much like the feeling of worshipping a cult.

Yes, that's it. I had become a demon, hunting everywhere to satisfy the ecstatic pleasure of my genitals.

I had become a creature driven solely by lust, my right hand clutching the train ticket sheath I had secretly torn off.

As expected, a lead was found: she was an employee in the management department of a top-tier trading company.

(To be continued)

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[Tokyo Slut] (01-02)

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