The general din from the concert behind me had reached such a level of confusion that hand signals were now the only possible means of communication. As I slowly inched closer to the bar I began to wonder how on earth I'd get our drinks back through the throng.
Thanking God that I wasn't claustrophobic, I slowly shuffled along with the crowd. I could still move my arms but, otherwise I was almost totally immobilised; and for some unseen reason we had all come to a complete full stop. My above average height gave me the advantage of spotting potential 'sliding into gaps' opportunities; but now, I accepted that I wasn't moving, and was destined to remain thirsty for some time.
I looked around at my temporary colleagues. Apart from hair colour, and a stab at gender, I couldn't really tell you much about the people who were standing so close to me that we each knew what the sides of the others legs felt like.
My mind started to wander. A thirty-or-so deep crowd, all piling in one direction - what were they all thinking? How many people's pockets had been picked? How many people were accidentally on purpose feeling up the person in front of them?
I imagined how I'd react if a strange pair of hands started to stroke my arse, as I stood there; unable to move, my protests going unheard. My hands began to itch as I turned my attention to the person directly in front of me. Female; above average height; red hair in tidy bunches; short skirt; older than eighteen I guessed, perhaps younger than twenty five.
I was so close to her that as I looked down I had an excellent view of the top of her head; my crotch was already lightly rubbing against her flimsy-skirted rear. The urge to put my hands over her shoulders and slide them down onto her breasts (which my imagination had declared to be both full and firm), was overwhelming.
I still can't believe I did it.
I would like to be able to say I'd been tentative and gentle; testing the water. But I was straight on, squeezing her tits hard (which actually felt small, but beautifully tight). I felt her body stiffen as her attempts to instantly turn around were inhibited by the general crush. I tensed, expecting a slap across my kneading digits. It didn't come. Instead I felt her body shuffling within its confined space, her own hands slipping behind her, flipping up her short skirt to reveal a pair of neat pale buttocks encased in some creamy lace knickers, which she pushed against my hard but confined dick.
I must confess to a moment of panic then. What if we were spotted? Her intentions were obviously as impure as my own. I took a deep breath to calm myself; there was no way any extra pushing could be viewed as odd. For all I knew the entire crowd could have been at it. The only person who may have been more suspicious than the rest was the guy behind me. As I pulled back slightly from this amazing girl, I could feel his cock was also hard. Or was I simply imagining it?
Wriggling one hand down between her arse and my denims, I undid my fly and freed my cock. She must have known what I was doing as she instantly pressed back harder, and stood on her toes to feel my length better against her buttocks. I eased the delicate lace knickers to one side and rubbed myself against her rounded flesh. Her arms snaked around behind her and grabbed my tip. I tried to suppress a groan, but failed, and anxiously looking around at the oblivious crowd, as I felt her fingers begin to pump against the end of my shaft.
I have no idea how I kept such an impassive expression on my face. A total stranger was wanking me against her bum, and my head was full of the picture we must be creating. What's more, each time she forced me back fractionally I brushed against the anonymous guy behind me. I swear he was getting harder all the time and I longed to be able to include him in our secret sex games. I guess I became reckless then, because as she smoothed my dick I began to push back harder. All the time I was waiting to be found out, waiting for a cry of protest. None came.
Grateful that she was so tall, I slipped a hand down as far as I could, and felt between her legs, fingering her slippery wetness. Perhaps she was wearing high heels, I couldn't tell.
I knew I couldn't hang on much longer. Sandwiched between this horny girl and a hard man, I thought I'd explode with the thought of the situation alone. Knocking her hand away, I notched my shaft against her and pushed into her dampness. Biting my tongue to conceal the groan rising in my throat, I pumped into her; each time making sure the guy behind knew exactly what was happening. I longed for him to put a hand around me, to feel for himself how well my cock fitted inside this willing woman. He didn't though, but the idea of it was the final straw in this delicious situation, and I quickly filled her with my come.
As I pulled out (not easy in the limited space), I could just see the first trickle of my liquid as it began to run down her legs, before she daintily pulled her knickers back into place and recovered herself with the little green skirt. The crowd had hardly moved. I don't suppose the whole thing had taken more than five minutes, but it sure made waiting for that pint a whole lot more interesting.
I hadn't really thought about the people to the side of us; I am still not sure whether they knew what had happened or not; if they did, no one said anything.
When I finally did reach the bar, the girl had long since been lost in the crush ahead of me, but a friendly voice from behind offered to buy me a drink, and quietly thanked me for making his wait in the queue so enjoyable.
Originally published April 2006 - "April Showers"