Confessions of a long-distance train conductor: life, sex and work on a flight…. Adventure in the train And what is the salary of the conductors, enough for life

Adventure on the train

On that summer morning, Vitya and I were going out of town, and the mood was excellent! Vitya is my boyfriend, we have been dating him for eight months, and during this time we have never quarreled. On this day, a pleasant walk outside the city awaited us, then rest on the beach under the gentle rays of the June sun, and in the evening - a bonfire. It was very warm, and I also dressed quite summer-like: a tight white tank top on my naked body (my chest is small, so you don’t have to wear a bra), a light white skirt that trembles from the slightest breeze, and the same frivolous panties - thin , one title. I love it when the summer breeze caresses my body, and therefore I don’t like to put on something superfluous ...
Vitya was carrying our things, and looked like a laden elephant. It was free on the bus, and I sat down opposite him, cross-legged, looking through the glasses of my sunglasses as the guys sitting facing me admire my slender legs. Just before the exit, I pretended that a little more, and they would see all the most interesting things ... But ... I disappointed them!

Despite the early morning, there were a lot of people who wanted to relax: the entire platform was packed with people. People crowded with carts, backpacks, long fishing rods and strollers, and on the platform, there was nowhere for an apple to fall ... Having bought tickets, we squeezed to the very edge, desperately punching our elbows for "a place in the sun." The sun was burning incredibly, and I did not regret that I dressed so lightly! In addition, Vitya periodically squeezed me, tightly squeezing my ass through the fabric of the skirt, which was very nice!

Finally, an electric train appeared ... A red-hot train of a dark green color, in which it was also better for apples not to ride, because there was nowhere for them to fall! In the flickering windows, I saw with horror the passengers of the train, who were pressed against each other in the most unnatural way!
- Vit, how do we get in? I got really worried.
- Don't worry, we'll break through! He slyly winked at me and hugged me from behind. With such hugs, I could be calm! He won't hurt me!
There was a screech of brakes, and the train came to a halt, opening its doors noisily. Having missed the thin crowd of those who were leaving, people immediately rushed with all their might through the narrow doors, jumping into the vestibule and seeping further into the salon. I felt like I was picked up by the crowd, and I no longer control anything. I came to my senses only when I found myself in a vestibule, in the thick of people. Nearby stood some kind of aunt in a funny hat that covered me from almost everyone, on the right stood an old grandfather, red from sunburn and vodka, on the side there were some other people, and only Vitya was invariably behind. When the doors closed and the train started moving, I clung to it as hard as I could...

It took about an hour to drive, and I was exhausted, standing in one place in a motionless pose. It was very hot, and large drops of sweat appeared on the faces of the people around me. People, like fish, greedily grabbed air with their lungs, but it was not enough for everyone. At rare stops, the doors opened only briefly. Someone came in, someone went out, but nothing changed in our corner. With nothing to do, I decided to play with my boy. Having seized the moment, I slightly rubbed my ass against him, feeling with my back how his heart began to beat faster ...

It seemed like people kept coming. Soon there was no place at all, and at the new stops people disappointedly saw off our train with a sad “eh”, because there was no way to squeeze into the vestibule. I rubbed against Vitya again, almost immediately feeling his hot, strong breath on my tanned neck, and then ... how much the fabric under his trousers tightened ... I was pleased to feel the strong tension of his body with my ass, and I began to rub harder and stronger ... I imperceptibly took my hands back and ran them along his thighs from bottom to top. He breathed even harder, but because of the sound of the wheels, only I could hear it ... The train was shaking and throwing up every minute, and a strange thought occurred to me ...

I took my hand back and down and lightly squeezed his cock, lightly so - through his pants. A muffled groan escaped from Vitya's chest. It seemed to me that he whispered "baby ..." - that's what he always calls me. I squeezed him even harder, and then let go... His heart was beating wildly, threatening to jump out of his chest... Be patient, my boy, be patient! the crowd that surrounded us, but thanks to her, no one could even see us!

Gradually, I myself became very excited ... I wanted to squeeze my legs very, very much, and I also wanted his caresses, so that he also caressed me. At such moments, you no longer think about people - blood is pounding in your temples, your heart, as if a wounded bird is pounding with all its might ... I suddenly took my hands back again and slowly unzipped his trousers. Vitya tried to push my hand away - people are watching! But I was inexorable, three times he tried to calm me down, making it clear by touching that this should not be done here, finally, he lightly slapped my arm. But, of course, it just turned me on! Look how humble he's become! And who climbed into my shower yesterday? And I didn’t release it until I ... however ... now it’s not about that!

Finally, he got tired of resisting, and allowed me to climb into his fly. There, in a cramped cage, something alive was beating, and very hard! I squeezed him with all my strength, trying not to scratch his friend with my long claws ... I slowly unbuttoned the button on his underpants and carefully pulled his cock out ... Anyway, no one sees, but I want my boy to be very good!... He groaned, breathed, but I did not give him a break! Now or never! He was all in my power - hard, hot, but at the same time very gentle and vulnerable! My! I began to caress him, as in bed, only now I did it, standing with my back to him ...

The train stopped again. The platform was empty. Yes, and the station was called somehow very casually, some kind of “117 kilometer”, probably, all sorts of gopniks were sent here before, but now it’s summer here, waist-deep grass, a sea of ​​clover, daisies and grasshoppers chirping!
- The doors are closing! murmured the driver. Interestingly, they are selected by voice, according to the principle of who is more terrible? The doors closed and we continued our adult game... His hands slowly slid down my thighs and got under my skirt. I felt the heat of his fingers on my thighs... Suddenly, he squeezed my ass sharply! It was quite simple to do this - the skirt was very short, almost nothing was covered. I sighed and relaxed... My bison! I decided to lift the edge of my skirt so that his cock could touch my naked body. Nobody could see it anyway.

When I felt this heat, I again took his penis in my hand and began to drive it all over the ass, slightly covered by thin panties. Muffled moans, reminiscent of sobs, escaped from his chest, but they were moans of happiness and unearthly bliss!

The train stopped. I quickly squeezed his cock between the legs so that no one would guess. I don’t know how he endured these long minutes, but his hands did the impossible all this time: he squeezed my ass with all his might, sometimes moving to his chest, sometimes climbing into his panties in front, however, very carefully so that the passengers did not notice. Although, of course, they were not up to us, they all breathed frequently, wiping sweat from their foreheads. Their faces showed absolutely nothing. I also had hailstones of sweat on my face, but it was a different sweat - a pre-orgasmic state!
His cock throbbed against my legs and I thought I would die if I didn't experience it now! And I made up my mind! With one easy movement, I lowered the panties down, and they easily, like a gossamer, slid down my tanned thighs and legs. I took a small step and got out of them, pushing aside... Vitya whispered something in my ear, but I couldn't make it out because of the noise of the wheels... When we got to the next stop, I imperceptibly released him from her legs, and, clasping her strong and hot head with her hand, slowly put him to her slit ... By that time, my pussy was so wet that he slid inside without difficulty! It seemed to me that at that moment he was as big as ever!

His hot warmth burst me from the inside ...

I felt how he barely perceptibly moves inside me, and from these crazy sensations I wanted to howl and moan!

His fingers tightly gripped my bare ass, pushing me onto my cock with short but sharp thrusts. Sometimes he caressed me from the front, climbing into the clitoris with his finger, which was already, at least wring it out ...
- You're not coming out? the old grandfather suddenly asked me. But then ... I felt that I was cumming! .....
“N-no,” I whispered and bit my lower lip, rolling my eyes up to the ceiling. Oh heaven, heaven, how good! The orgasm spread over my body in warm waves, fettering me from the inside ... I raised my face up, and it suddenly seemed to me that we were all alone in this train! His face became so hot, and blood pounded furiously in his temples...
Suddenly, I felt that he was coming right into me... God, what a thrill! His hot streams burst into me one after another, spreading inside, running down my thighs ...

I don’t remember how long we stood like that, gradually his penis became small again and easily slipped out of me ... I quickly pulled down my skirt and leaned against it again. A-ah-ah ... The body was filled with such weakness that I could not move even my little finger ...
"Thank you," he whispered in my ear. Silly, do you thank for this? And what a pleasure I had!

The end of the story came very soon, and the denouement was the most unexpected... When there was one minute left before our stop, and I wanted to turn to him to say that we were leaving.... I suddenly saw Vitya... in the passenger compartment of the train. .. He, as if nothing had happened, was sitting by the window. My face lit up in surprise! Seeing me, Vitya happily waved to me, got up and began to make his way to the exit. He was probably there from the very beginning - so he sat at the window, completely forgetting about me ...

Terrified, I recoiled and turned around abruptly... Oh no! I saw .... that all this time ... I was pressed, caressed and had sex ... completely with an outsider! It was a young guy of about thirty, tanned and very pumped up ... His face was red with bliss, sweat was streaming down it. I was terrified... My God! He raped me! No, I gave myself to him ... and even without everything! ... What a fool! What a fool I am! - Thoughts crossed my mind...

When we got off the train, a breeze came up, lifting my skirt. A sigh came from the vestibule. Obviously, everyone saw my naked ass for a second. And then the doors closed, and the train with the happy stranger sped off into the distance. And I was walking next to my boyfriend, barely moving my legs, and hundreds of thoughts were pounding in my head ... I felt used, dishonored, but at the same time a debauchee, a traitor, a shameless whore, but ... at the same time I had a really good time...

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A working morning plunges us into an abyss of despair and melancholy. Many people start their day early. For some, it is not possible without coffee, someone wakes up and hastily puts on clothes, again forgetting to have breakfast, someone, on the contrary, goes to bed, but every day there are a lot of people on the trains. Someone sleeps, inspecting a dream interrupted by an alarm clock, but basically everyone is sleepy, each doing his own thing. This day was no exception, and by half past eight in the morning the train was filled with the people of the big city. The dark world was flooded with heat from many people jostling in the small space. Familiar smells enveloped me, dragging me into general movement and chaos. The faint inviting scent of someone's perfume mingled with the sharp and tart sweat; from the standing next to the guy carried a recently smoked cigarette. All this crowd creates noise, but it is blocked by the sound of wagons and the whistle of air in the tunnels. All this rigmarole is trying to outshout the music in the headphones. This kind of romance is for the elite, who love the crowd and at the same time want to be a separate part, who observe people and notice a lot of interesting things. Each of them is unique, but they are all so similar. Here is a guy, burying his eyes in the window, as if there is something to see, except for the impenetrable darkness of the gray city. In his headphones, the classics are replaced by rock, and the violin is replaced by sharp drums and guitar. He could never understand how people listen to only one direction among the great variety of sounds, timbres and melodies. It seems that he does not want to look at boring people, his thoughts are completely occupied, his eyes dropped to the books in his hands. Reading, he did not notice how it became quite crowded. The guy seemed not to notice the crowd on purpose, the music poured into the book, taking his mind far beyond the carriage. Suddenly, someone pressed up behind me, there was nothing unusual in this, but somehow it became uncomfortable. Thanks to the push of the train, the contact of the bodies became even tighter. There was a breath at the top of his head, and between the guy and the wall it was difficult to squeeze at least a hand. Reading became more difficult. The voice of a man from behind seems to be heard through the music, a hand sliding along the guy's side, trembling. Breath!? It looks like the one from behind is pressed against the guy in front. So, it rests on the lower back ... Bag, arm, elbow! It was hard to believe, because the hand was on the side, and it's all stupid. The guy tried not to pay attention, and his eyes were riveted to the book. "In the square of light lying on the wall, an elusive shadow flashed. Roger turned around, he was sick with fear ..." The man behind was still pressed, inconsistently fanning the boy's long uncut hair. Oh, he moved... No, not where you might think. You can't imagine a worse situation. One had only to oversleep and now, on you, now you have to stand close to the subject with a cool ass. Although this is usually understood at a glance or by hand, but not by a causal place. Standing so close, it was impossible not to inhale the fruity scent from his hair, as if he had mistaken shower gel for perfume. No matter how hard you try not to think, it still doesn't work. Like a rookie maniac, the guy behind him was shaking, not knowing what to do. At the next stop, a pretty girl squeezed past him, her gorgeous bust slid down his back, making the guy choke on his dirty thoughts about a threesome. Tuduh-tuh. All as if on command, a wave to the left, and then back. The hard boner rubbed against the boy's front buns, each push was like torture. Red as a tomato, he pressed his forehead against the cold glass in an attempt to cool off. They almost passed the center, which was always flooded with a bunch of people. There were fewer people in the car, no one else prevented them from dispersing, but this did not solve the problem. What to do now? If he moves back, it will be extremely indecent. But standing like that is also not very good. The main thing is to calm down. One, two, inhale... Sine squared x plus cosine, multiply it all by... In turn, sine is minus cosine, so, integrals... It seems to feel better. Math is the best way to fall away. Finally, they separated, but the awkwardness and tension between them went through the roof. “Um, sorry, what more can I say. My name is Oleg. What happened was incredibly stupid. - My name is Artem. It's nice to meet you, - he turns his face red to the tips of his ears. - I'm going out on this one. It betrays this miracle, drilling Olezhek's dull green eyes, real, though everything is red. And he is somehow less sorry that he overslept. Here is a stop and a green-eyed miracle leaves the train car that has already become a native. Oleg was still late for the first pair. Natalya Vladimirovna, a professor of the strange subject of philosophy, tried with all her might to burn a hole in him as he walked to his place. The day passed as fussy as ever, and he rode back on the same train. It's good that people have come up with this type of transport. During the day, the guy repeatedly recalled the morning incident, while mostly he recalled the green-eyed miracle. His embarrassed face was imprinted in his thoughts. Too bad he didn't take his phone number. Because of this strange string of circumstances, Oleg became very interested in who that guy was. Schoolboy? Student? Studies? Works? It was very interesting to know, so he was even a little disappointed that there were much fewer people on the way back. Tomorrow he will have a second, he can sleep, but this blissful feeling of anticipation of a late rise was as if something weighed down. But a day later again to the first, and, of course, he overslept. Fastening a light windbreaker on the run, Oleg flew into the car, and the doors closed behind him with a characteristic creak. Morning rush hour again. In the hot world of entangled sweaty bodies, everyone wished they were one of a hundred of the same idiots working or studying in the morning. Standing in the crowd of these idiots, Oleg caught himself thinking that he was looking for him, that green-eyed guy, among densely standing people. But alas, he is not here. This guy is impossible to ignore. Realizing this and that he was a little disappointed, he leaned back against the door. What did he really want? It was lucky to meet him, and losers like him are rarely lucky at all. His mental stream drifted farther and farther away from the main reasoning, when, after several stops, an avalanche of people moved him to the middle of the car, now no longer holding back the torn mat. Clamped like a can of sardines. And suddenly, in this crowd of life, Oleg noticed a bright crown. Are you kidding. Really ... No, well, it's definitely him! Shaggy hair, standing in headphones. Today, it seems, luck has drunk. By the will of fate, Artyom could get into any of the four cars or go at another time. But no, he's here! Oleg, dumbfounded by the find, stared at how the fair-haired guy moved towards the exit. He did not have time to think or realize what was happening, as he flew out, pushed out of this stuffy purgatory by the crowd. What was he actually going to tell him? What did you want to do? Surely this would be another stupidity on his part, like the one that he then began to get acquainted with the guy whom he had recently "rested against". He would even laugh at himself if it was all just a joke told by someone else. The only thing he could think about now was meeting him again, maybe tomorrow or in a week, but he had to see the guy again. It turned not just into a desire, but almost a necessity. There was something ominous or portentous about such an accident. Oleg didn't really believe in such things, but now everything has become too obviously special. The guy was not even surprised when one Saturday morning, as sleepy and gray with glimpses of early fatigue as many Saturday mornings, he was driving to the university, finding a seat that he was not going to share, suddenly a familiar figure appeared next to him. The owner of the figure held on to the handrail near the seats, on sparsely crowded days it was still difficult to resist, because the crowd did not support, and people inside him were carried from side to side from the fast moving along the winding rails, and trying to imprint into the metal walls. Artyom seemed to be deliberately trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, but Oleg found him as soon as he got into the high-speed carriage. It was only a matter of time before they got close and noticed each other, they always did, as if subconsciously looking for a familiar face in the crowd. Oleg was a little amused by the current situation, for some reason a chuckle was torn from his throat. Artyom deliberately ignored him, but their acquaintance did not burden him, rather, he simply felt the awkwardness of what was happening. But apparently the guy did not yet know how uncomfortable it was next to his friend. - Hey, hello, - Oleg said with a smile, although it was pronounced almost with a mockery. “Hello,” Artyom’s voice did not disappoint, although it seemed to him that if he opened his mouth, a cowardly squeak would come out of his throat. - Don't you want to sit down? - the seated one suggested temptingly and patted his knee. Looks like he thought it was funny. - Are you kidding? - the guy reacted, he was already shaking with indignation. What kind of jokes are these? “Come on, sit down, we still have a long way to go,” the guy added more seriously, continuing to smile and slap his leg. His proposal was almost interesting to Artyom, but what was happening became indecent and embarrassing, if you do not take into account their strange relationship. Few people in the car would be pleased with their strange behavior. - Come on, you, - he was tired of waiting, and Oleg grabbed the guy by the hand, pulling him towards himself, like a doll, trying to forcibly seat him on his legs. - No, it's not worth it, - the resisting fair-haired man only managed to blurt out, resting his feet a couple of times, he still lost his balance and fell on other people's knees. At the same time, having flopped unevenly, he, holding on to only one side of his body, leaned over and almost fell on neighboring people. It would be really bad if this happened, but nothing happened: still playfully, Oleg grabbed the guy by the side and put him in the right direction. Now Artyom was sitting with both rolls on someone else’s knees and was ready to burn with shame and at the same time burn the second one in this human pyramid, but it’s better to fail on the spot, then he will no longer be in this car with people who look awkwardly at them with interest or with almost hateful indifference. He will simply disappear through the hole, and the cars will rush over him literally ten centimeters in deadly proximity. It was incredible and a little funny. At that moment, Oleg suddenly did not care who this guy was, whom he now holds on his feet, it was not important, even unnecessary. Artyom, or even better without a name, did not matter as a person, all the time he was just a stranger on the train, only this was important. It seemed to dawn on Oleg: he doesn’t want to know anything about the guy, nothing, like an eternal riddle, secret and indestructible, and while she is like that, while he is like that, all this will be interesting. Will excite his mind, will entertain his mind as they travel along the usual train route to the university. In turn, even if Artyom wanted to know something about his random companion, he would hardly have dared to ask while he himself was silent. This happened in a strange way, they were both silent, knowing almost nothing about each other, and at the same time they continued to get into one car, the last one in the tail, and were the closest of them all in this cramped place smelling of people. The fair-haired guy sat on his companion's lap and silently covered his face with shaggy bangs. They did not even move, and continued to quietly approach each other, at the same time not taking a single step towards communication. They did not even talk about the weather, and only to say goodbye, they opened their mouths. Their secret connection remained the same, now constantly, as they fell into the same car, they, without hesitation, approached each other. The awkwardness between them seemed heavy, but only they knew how easy it was for them in a closed space with a bunch of strangers whom you involuntarily begin to hate; how easy it was for them to be next to each other, as if they had known each other for a long time, and everyone knew about the life of the other. But no one said that they were not even going to look in the face, although they involuntarily met their eyes. This did not create embarrassment, the cats did not gnaw at their thoughts, because they did not care who listened to what music, who liked turtles, and who might have allergies. They knew too much for strangers on the train. Between them there were no frames, there were no laws of decency, they slept on top of each other, calmly leaving for the world of dreams. By their behavior, the guys embarrassed, frightened and sometimes touched the people around, but all those around did not matter, because it was for this, in order not to notice the people around, that the guys got so close. But something still happened, something in their "communication" crossed some non-existent boundaries. Quite often in the morning and even sometimes in the evening they collided in the carriage, it was common, no one could say exactly when it started, let alone end. Although it certainly all initially went to this. The train raced forward along the metal track, the wheels creaking and thumping in their rhythm. Artyom, carried away into the world of rough poetry of modern literature, which he read, probably bought in vain, did not notice the habitual breath around his neck. Oleg was standing quite close and, perhaps, could hear the music playing in the ears of the person in front of him. It was common for them to be in this position, he no longer worried about that first time. Now his experiences were completely different. Outwardly, one could say that he looked like always, but no one knew his true "as always." What was going on in his head was almost incomprehensible. He himself did not understand that for about half an hour he had been looking at the guy’s neck and, not looking up, was thinking about something. Sighing heavily, he moved the guy's regrown hair with his breath, Artyom was surprised at the intensity with which his friend pushed the air out of his lungs. He did not even suspect that he did it, still staring at his neck. Turning around for a sigh, he simply collided with Oleg's already lowered gaze. They stood close in the familiar crowd, and when they turned around, their eyes were in terrible proximity to something inevitable. The guy wanted to ask worriedly what happened, but he said nothing, there was no tension in the eyes of the person standing in front of him, but rather there was a lightness that usually inspires people who decided on something crazy. The guy's head became empty, not in a romantic sense, of course not, but he simply did not understand what he should be thinking about. Behind Oleg, the man began to move towards the exit, this reminded him that Artyom was now stopping, they had almost reached her. In such tight quarters, it was clearly difficult for a man to squeeze through, especially with his size, and he frantically worked with his elbows. From his pushing Oleg pulled forward, he, accustomed to this, did not react. But, when he was pushed, he moved closer to the guy so that his breath touched the skin of the fair-haired man. His eyes still did not express the work of the brain. He, like a weak-willed doll, staggered at the wave of someone else's hand. The guy leaned over again, seemingly from another push of a fat carcass that could not move, even when it had already drawn in its immense stomach and held its breath. Although no one moved, but the guy again found himself dangerously close to someone else's face. His lips were not closed, and he immediately kissed them. From such proximity, the earpiece flew off Artyom's ear and fell on his shoulder. Rock of the last century rumbled from the mini speaker, which rather spoiled the moment. Oleg's hand rose, almost touching the falling earpiece, and stopped on the guy's cheek. Almost in one breath, he was ready to blow the roof off another with just a kiss. He stroked the blond's pleasant cheek with his thumb while his other fingers tangled in the shaggy strands. Their bodies touched as strongly as in their first meeting, just as furiously pounded a mad heart and burned Artyomka's cheeks. Only now he himself clung to the pervert in the train. Breaking away from the soft, pushing on the thoughtless lips, Oleg whispered something to the guy. So close: now Artyom could only think about it, his lips almost touched the guy’s cheekbone and whispered. Nothing could be heard, the sound of the carriage echoed in his ears like a squeak, as happens in some dangerous situations, but this knock was more like his heart, yes, it probably was. Oleg repeated it again, almost irritably, leaning especially towards the guy so that he would hear: "It's time for you to go out." Artyom almost read it on his lips than he heard it, but the main thing was that he realized that it was time to push towards the exit. Out of habit, he began to move forward, without having time to react in any way to what had just happened. As if spellbound, he got out of the car and remained standing on the platform, people passed by, touching him, a hand reached out to his face, he rubbed his mouth, as if he had drunk a cup of an incredible drink, and a trace of foam remained. The train rustled past, it was time to go, but he still could not move. The question of what happened was brewing by itself, after a while Artyom still did not understand his reaction and was going to talk about it. A week passed, but he was not there, Oleg disappeared, he still did not appear, and the question faded by itself. If they had met, he would have asked quite different questions: "Where was he?"; "Did something happen?" The more unbearable time fled, the more the guy was nervous. He did not read books on the way, all looking into the car, as if spellbound, and hoping that he would accidentally appear like that. No one appeared, the crowd changed like a flowing river. And the guy was washed away by this river, daily slowly rinsed his brain. Why? Why doesn't Oleg show up? What's happened? So much time has passed. Almost an eternity. Okay, so he got away. It became clear that they were unlikely to see each other again. Only now did he realize how little he knew about Oleg. This whole game turned into a joke, he was angry, as if he was being bullied. If he knew that everything was so and ... What? And what the hell would he do? Artyom stood pressed against the glass, just as in the recent past, the train began to slow down at a stop, an avalanche of people swirled and, having made a spiral, poured out of the car, at the same time adding people outside. The guy's thought faltered, and somewhere in between he remembered that this was Oleg's stop, he often sat down and got off at this stop. The guy looked around the half-filled hall for passengers, unconsciously noticing what blue walls there were. The announcer announced the next stop and warned of the risk of injury. Almost no one heard this in the noise. The last passenger crossed the threshold of a stuffy train at any time of the day. The doors began to move when they got halfway close, at the last moment some guy flew out of the car, literally pushed out of the gap. Artyom was now standing on the platform and obviously did not understand what the hell he was doing here. The station meant nothing, he didn't even know the street, it was absurd to meet the guy now. The guy only remembered that at a time when they were not silent, Oleg mentioned that he seemed to live on the seventh. And now he had only that he needed to look for a building above five floors. It was not difficult, because now he was outside the city, and there are not so many houses and streets. He wandered for a long time along the only large street and wound circles around tall buildings. Inspection of the yards and the like did not give anything. Well, it was understandable, nothing is more stupid than trying to find a person on the street. He bought a can of Pepsi from a nearby small shop and, with a loud puff, drank it in one sitting. He took a deep breath, accepting his defeat, what a stupid thing to do, and went to the subway, he had to go home. It was already getting dark, evening was coming, and Artyom could see his stranger from the train in everyone he met. He walked up to the entrance to the station, looking back one last time, as if trying to enjoy the place. Heading to the door, the guy saw another young man, which at such a moment, of course, reminded Oleg. Approaching the guy, Artyom tried to pretend not to stare. Oh, this similarity. And it's true, he was. Oleg was crossing a small square, leaving the elevated train station. They collided right on the street, which was almost unbelievable. Artyomkin's eyes seemed to lit up, he just pounced on the guy, almost knocking him down. He opened his mouth and then fell silent, Oleg looked at him dumbfounded, as if at a small insect in front of him. - What the heck? Why did you stop driving? Artyom asked, nothing else came to his mind. - Yes, I started to go earlier, I'm not late anymore. Oleg really seemed to be in genuine indignation. But there was clearly something wrong, because he kissed the guy, which means that not everything is so simple. Fate pushed them towards, again and again, and that kiss meant something. They were not in a stuffy crowded carriage, the crowd did not press on them from all sides. They could breathe in fresh air while standing in the middle of the square, but they still stood too close, as if they were still being pushed towards each other. They were silent again, as if they had never left the train. Nobody started talking. Artyom still, almost clinging, held the guy by the clothes, clutching the guy's chest with his hands. Suddenly, something pushed him for the last time. - I'm... I'm 24. I work for a small agency. I have a puppy and an old cat. I also have two sisters, a younger one and an older one. I love westerns and sleep on the weekend until the last, until they say that it's time for dinner ... - he chattered incessantly, like crazy, and at the same time pulled the guy towards him. It was as if he was pulled from the chain, he still could not stop talking, as if everything in his life depended on it. - I think you have beautiful eyes, but too arrogant disposition. And just try to leave, I will never let you in. Oleg was shaking, probably from the fact that they pulled him by the breasts, as if proving something and furiously suffocating in front of his face. He did not know what to do, but the guy was right - now he has nowhere to go. - What? - he only said, as if he had not heard the tirade that had just been thrown into his face. Who kissed whom is not clear, maybe Artyom reached out to him, ending his monologue with a bold point, or maybe Oleg was trying to shut him up. Now their tongues intertwined in a dance of stupid hysteria. Their arms were wrapped around the body pressed against their master, and as if they were not in the middle of the square, they were ready to kiss, choking each other, and so on until the very night. They stood like that for a very long time, while passers-by, not noticing them, walked around. What is in the train, what is on the street is the same.

In a crush not up to observance of decency. On the subway, did you feel an umbrella pushing against you from behind, below your waist? Perhaps this is not an umbrella at all, which means that you must have fallen into the clutches of a frotterist (from the Latin “frottere” - to rub). They are also called "tacherists" (from the English "touch" - touch, touch). And in Russia they simply call them “pressers”.

Big City Victims

I myself have been in this situation several times. One day, the crowd carried me into a crowded subway car, and I almost got into the Bermuda Triangle - I was squeezed from three sides by men. And suddenly I felt how someone's excessively playful hand slid along my thigh. I tried to move away, but I couldn't even move. It was not possible to hit the bastard and make a scandal, because it was not possible to calculate the insolent person by the absent faces of the men who surrounded me. At the nearest station, working hard with my elbows, I broke away from the pervert who enjoyed it, and I spoiled my mood for the whole day. The enemy must be known by sight. On one of the Internet site I found a whole community pressers and found out all the details of their sex life. Here are the stories of some of them.

“I became like this at the age of 15. On the bus, a girl accidentally pressed her ass against me! I almost had an orgasm and almost lost my mind from the rush of adrenaline. Since then, in crowded transport, as if by chance, I cling to girls and women. This is what I live. In my normal sex life, I do not experience such emotions and such strong arousal.
Alexey, 25 years old

“I don't make contact with those who don't want to. No pleasure! It is interesting to caress with those who play along, and among the weaker sex there are not so few who want to enjoy bodily contact. I often cross paths with one woman at the Kashirskaya metro station. I think she is already waiting for me. I squeeze her "buns" several stations. You can see how she's freaking out! And these games energize me for a couple of days, and then I go again in search of a new victim.
Sergey, 23 years old

“I've been doing this for ten years now. I can't live without it and I'm not going to stop. My roof was blown off. I'm not a pervert and I don't dump my household out of my pants. Very delicately, and only when I feel a positive response, I caress the woman below the waist. If you approach the matter wisely, then no one is offended. In addition, I still go to the flea market every day, so why not enjoy it? Any man at heart presser and those who call us maniacs are just cowards.”
Vladimir, 33 years old

Can't be touched!

Who? Usually, pressers- These are young people aged 22-30 years. They have higher education, they have wives or permanent girlfriends.

Work clothes: Dress neatly and inconspicuously so as not to attract attention. Particular attention is paid to good perfume. It is believed that the weaker sex, inhaling a pleasant smell, fantasizes a prince behind his back and rather surrenders to caresses. During the "work" they do not drink alcohol, so as not to alienate a potential victim. In addition, strong drinks lull vigilance. For conspiracy, they carry a briefcase, a book, an umbrella or a package in their hands. So that the victim might think that it is not a hand that touches her, but some object.

Where? Capital pressers"work" in trolleybuses, buses, trams and in the subway. Favorite route is Zamoskvoretskaya and Tagansko-Krasnopresnenskaya metro lines. In St. Petersburg, Nevsky Prospekt, Frunzenskaya, Vladimirskaya, and Technological Institute metro stations are popular with prizhimalshchiki.

With whom? Pressers prefer girls and women in tight trousers and short skirts. According to them, women who are well over thirty, out of season, lightly dressed young ladies and owners of curvaceous forms are more likely to make contact.

How to get rid? Just turn around to face him. The fact is that frotterists never look the victim in the eye, he doesn’t care how you look. When he sees, he loses interest, because the presser is only interested in certain parts of your body: hips, buttocks, pubis. In addition, sensing your displeasure, the frost-terrist most likely immediately retreats. There are no rapists among them.

Crime without punishment

According to the observations of the frotterists themselves, 50% of the ladies pretend that nothing is happening, 25% try to move away, 20% respond to their caresses and 5% behave aggressively - they can make noise. At the same time, real scandals happen in 0% of cases. It turns out that the antics of frotterists always go unpunished?

Andrey, 26 years old:“One day I got nailed. Apparently, he got used to it. Mistaken for a pickpocket. There was no evidence, so they let me go, but I paid 500 rubles to the cops to get rid of it. I don’t appear there anymore, I “work” at other metro stations.”

And this, consider, has passed. I wonder if the police are generally aware of what is happening, will they rush to help you, if anything, and punish the pervert to the fullest extent of the law? I called my place of residence Department of Internal Affairs of the Tagansky district and asked how to hold the frotterist accountable.
“Where do you say you were groped?” the attendant asked me. “This is not our area. But you contact the police at the address, and they will definitely help you. You just show the one who touched you, and he will be punished.
After that, the law enforcement officer hung up, without answering the main questions: under what article can the presser be attracted and what evidence will be required. It turns out that you can point a finger at any man you don’t like with something, and he will be held accountable?

For advice, I turned to Alexander Ostrovsky, Honorary Advocate of Russia. He did not console me: “Theoretically, a frotterist can be held administratively liable for petty hooliganism. But in practice, he will hire a lawyer, and you will not be able to prove anything. To your arguments, he will have his own: "It happened by accident when the transport slowed down, etc."

When meeting, avoid standard and banal phrases. Most start with sentences: “Girl, can I meet you?” or “Have we met before?” Therefore, many girls have developed the habit of stopping such courtship before they begin. Find your own, original phrase, which will be the beginning of the acquaintance. It is desirable that it does not contain the particle "not". For example: “I have lost an extra ticket for the performance tonight. How will you react to the fact that I invite you to the theater?

Use your surroundings to improvise. If a girl, for example, is reading a book, then this circumstance can be used both to start a conversation and to continue the conversation. But, on the other hand, if the girl you like goes to one, is not busy with anything and just gets bored on the road, she will make contact easier.

Not many people want to break away from reading, from listening to music, from surfing the Internet for the sake of a casual acquaintance.

Girl in the company of friends

In many cases, getting acquainted with a group of girls is much easier than with singles. Firstly, because the girls are not busy with anything except communicating with each other. And a new acquaintance will only give new topics for conversation. Secondly, being in the company, women feel more secure, protective instincts are weakened. If everything goes well, it remains only to do so in order to sit next to the girl you like, getting rid of your friends.

In addition, girls in the company have a habit of talking loudly, not embarrassed by others. From their conversation, you can learn a lot of useful information - for example, what is the name of the lady you like. Then, directly upon meeting, you can impress her by calling her by name.

If the girl is alone on the train

For meeting girls traveling alone on the train, a way to offer to solve together is well suited. If you have a tablet computer with you, try offering to watch a movie. Or try carefully and discreetly putting a note in her pocket asking her to call you back with your phone number. If she calls back, honestly tell that you wanted to meet, but the train was full, and you could only put a note in your pocket.

Interest the girl, carefully increase the dose of attention to her, but so that she fights for your attention to her. At some point, you will feel like old acquaintances.

When dating, try not to act like everyone else. Come up with something original. Show your interest in the girl. Don't forget: to make a good impression, try to show your good manners. Do not ask about her personal life: most girls answer casual acquaintances that they have been busy for a long time, even if this is not the case. This is a defensive reaction - if your acquaintance continues, you yourself will learn all about it.

It was last week. At the Balabanovo station, passengers boarded an electric train following the route Maloyaroslavets - Moscow. Opposite me sat a girl unfamiliar to me and the same. They sat down almost at the same time - the girl a little earlier - and immediately after her a man. At first I thought that they were traveling together: either dad and daughter, or relatives, or acquaintances - it's just that they almost synchronously landed on the bench. The man immediately fell asleep. In the morning train, many people do this: they sit down and immediately go to sleep. People sleep in the train in different ways: whoever is at the window leans against the window, someone (of small stature) slides a little forward along the bench, crossing his legs with the passenger opposite (usually acquaintances - for such a "crossing" friends-acquaintances specially sit down opposite each other, which allows them to sleep all the way), resting the back of their head on the back of the bench. And some, as a rule, of high stature, sleep sitting up straight with their heads on their chests, or lean forward, laying themselves on their own knees, and if there is a bag or briefcase, they use them as a pillow.
So, the passenger opposite chose the last position: he put the bag on his knees and leaned over it, as if dozing off. I didn't pay attention to him at first.
The girl sitting next to him was more interesting. Dressed very simply, even poorly. The phone she got from time to time was cheap. Some kind of "grandmother's" blouse. Plain skirt - not very short, slightly above the knees, and flared. She was sitting on the edge of the bench, her legs crossed, slightly sideways, so that her legs were slightly in the center aisle, so she sat with her back to her neighbor half turned. And her skirt filled all the space between them. And then I noticed something strange. Fingers appeared from under the left leg (closest to the girl). Nothing else. Just wiggling fingertips. The man, hiding behind the bag lying on his lap, bent down so as to pass his right hand under his left leg and reach out with his fingers to ... To what? What was he aiming for? The handbag (cheap and obviously not containing any jewelry) lay on the girl's lap - and he could not reach it in any way. I began to watch, ready to intervene at any moment. The man's fingers felt the edge of the girl's skirt and began to knead this edge, rub it, as if stroking ... The man's eyes were closed, but the eyelids were trembling. However, the girl was alive and from time to time changed her position, moving a little, which caused the movement of her skirt, which slipped out of the man's fingers. At these moments, he somehow trembled, removed his fingers so that they were not visible from the side. And he began to tremble. No, he just started to "sausage". He was shaking like an alcoholic during withdrawal (I have seen such horror). He was just feverish. He clenched his teeth strongly, his eyelids opened slightly - and some kind of cloudy pewter eyes showed. Then he moved a little closer to the girl and again imperceptibly slipped his fingers under his leg, felt for her skirt - and he ceased to be feverish. The face became calmer... This went on several times. But the girl began to notice something. First, she picked up her skirt, tucking it under her leg. And then she completely dropped out. You should have seen the despair and horror that seized the man. But almost immediately, the second girl sat down in the place of the first girl. This one was in jeans. The man assessed the situation and changed tactics. He began to stretch his fingers not under his leg, but, as it were, over it, also hiding behind his bag, one might say, from under the bag - to the side. Apparently, he just needed to touch women's clothing or a woman's body.
From that moment I began to take pictures. Of course it's hidden. Of course, on the phone.

Here you can see how a man presses his foot against the girl's leg (his leg is at an angle) - so he reduces the distance between them so that it is easier to reach her with his fingers.

I tried to make some "portraits" of him.

And here he turned around, apparently in search of a girl who had dropped out.

Photos: © korsi
And here he is in all his glory. Pay attention, he looks quite decent, clean-shaven, cleanly dressed. (Tanya's tattoo is visible on the left hand.) He is not a bum at all. Apparently he was driving from home. Maybe to work. The bag was half empty. What is in it - God knows.
But actually, I would like to warn the girls against such a neighbor (in the train, bus or somewhere else). I don’t know what his motives were, why he reached out with his fingers to the clothes of the girls, why he was shaking ... Maybe he is not a maniac. But ... God saves the safe.