What a way to spend a Friday night, Dylan thought as he boarded the subway car. Sitting around the office, listening to sales projections and corporate propaganda. The company meeting he had just left had gone on far longer than anticipated, and, to make matters worse, many of the executives in attendance were attractive women in tight miniskirts, and Dylan's cock had to struggle to ignore their shapely bodies and luscious faces.
The Viagra in the air tasted particularly thick tonight, even with the new filters the city had installed on the street corners.
The subway car was packed, and a lovely young woman in a tight, silky mini-dress was right in front of him, just inches away. She had her back to him, and he could smell the scent of her beautiful, shiny hair. Dylan started to feel like he might get an erection soon, and hoped it wouldn't happen before he got home.
But if he did make it home in time, this wouldn't be much of a story, would it?
The next time the subway stopped, so many people boarded the car that the woman in the mini-dress was pressed tightly against Dylan. His face was buried in her hair, and because the woman was wearing such extra-high heels, his crotch was rubbing against her tight little butt!
The subway vibrated as it resumed its journey, and Dylan's cock began to expand.
Suddenly, the woman in the mini-dress arched her back and stood on her tiptoes, then let herself back down, effectively stimulating Dylan's growing slab. He tried to back up, but there was a man behind him, and Dylan certainly didn't want to start accidentally stimulating that guy the way this girl was doing to him!
She did it again: up, then down, slowly. Then nothing.
"Excuse me, Miss," Dylan whispered to the woman, and she looked over her shoulder at him. Dylan could see her beautiful blue eyes almost turned all the way toward him, but not quite.
"Don't you dare speak to me," she warned. "I can feel you trying to fuck me back there. You pervert." Dylan could tell that the woman had a lot of practice saying the word fuck. She placed a special, sharp-as-fingernails emphasis on the k.
The unconscionable cockteaser began to raise and lower herself, stroking Dylan up and down, and soon Dylan's erection was straining in his slacks.
"It's so unfair," the girl murmured quietly, still looking over her shoulder in his general direction. "You men think you can just go around fucking anything you please." Again, there was that exaggerated k sound.
"You think the whole world is your own private wad of tissue that you can blast your load into, now that you've got a constant supply of Viagra flowing through you. If it were not for the government's semen booths, there would be cum everywhere!"
The very moment the words cum everywhere were out of her mouth, she started pumping her ass up and down, faster and faster, driving Dylan wild with lust!
Then, in an instant, the high-heeled tease stopped working him, and stood still. She reached behind her back, and gripped his package firmly.
"Don't you dare cum," she warned, and now she was looking directly into his eyes, her hot breath caressing his lips. "Don't you dare use my ass to masturbate and empty your obnoxious, Viagra-inflated fuck-stick!"
She let go of Dylan's dick, then announced in a loud voice: "Someone needs a visit to a semen booth!"
A forty-something woman nearby, who looked like she might be a nurse or a waitress on her way home from the night shift, asked the younger woman: "Is this man bothering you?"
The young lady's voice was no longer breathless and sophisticated. It was now a high-pitched whine.
"He's rubbing his thing up against my butt," she told the woman, loudly. "I think he's trying to make it squirt!"
There was nothing Dylan could do to defend himself against this gross injustice. Things had changed drastically since the terrorists' September attacks, and the authorities had very little patience for the complaints of a man sporting anything as un-American as a Viagra-induced erection!
The woman reached behind the girl's bottom, and felt Dylan's crotch. "Yes, I'm afraid this one has teencock," she agreed. "You poor thing. Are you going to be okay?" Dylan looked at the woman, and saw that she was addressing not him, but the girl in front of him.
"He was trying to molest me," the shapely beauty complained innocently. "Why would he do that? Why me?"
"Now, there there, young lady," the middle-aged woman said in a motherly tone. "It's not your fault. It's all that Viagra that poisoned the country's resources when the terrorists attacked. This young man is too worked up to know what he's doing."
"Why can't guys just drink bottled water, then?" the young woman asked, looking Dylan up and down as if he was deranged.
"It's not just the water," the middle-aged woman reminded her. "When the terrorists tried to knock us out with Valium but accidentally used Viagra instead, they contaminated the air, the food supply, everything. All these men, all around you, are fighting this disability every day."
The young woman placed her hand on Dylan's desperate bulge and squeezed gently, then stroked it slowly up and down.
"So he can't help it, then?" she asked, feigning innocence, using her little-girl voice. "He has to lurk around subways and bus stations, looking for pretty girls to rub himself against?"
"Yes, but it's important to understand that we were all attacked on that September morning, sweetheart. That means we must all pull together to try to minimize the damage that's been done to our nation."
"What can I do?" the young woman asked.
"You can start by wearing more clothes, ones that actually fit, that have enough material to cover you. No wonder he was picking on you! You made yourself too easy a target."
The middle-aged woman led Dylan off the subway at the next stop, tugging his bulge like a leash. "Bye bye, pervert," the younger woman sang, smiling excitedly at him. "Have fun in the semen booth!"
Tina and Brooke
Tina wrapped a white bath towel around herself, and her trainer did the same, before she opened the semen booth door to let the drained man out and to write a receipt for the woman who had turned him in.
There was a line outside, but that was to be expected on a Friday night. Tina worked the 8 pm to 2 am shift, and tended to get a lot of traffic, but especially on Friday and Saturday nights. Women in bars, in clubs, on the streets and on the subways were wearing short, tight skirts and dresses, and all the wiggling and prancing was bound to cause an epidemic of teencocks on the weekend nights.
Brooke, Tina's trainer, snickered at the sight before them: a middle-aged woman with a young man in his twenties. The man appeared to be completely mortified, and the woman looked very pissed-off.
"Is this your son?" Brooke asked incredulously. "Did you catch your son with a case of Viagra teenslab, and now you're bringing him here to have him milked?"
"I don't know this young man," the woman replied impatiently. "I found him in this condition on the subway, treating some young lady's behind like a pillow. I'm just doing my part in the war on terrorism."
"Well, we appreciate it," Brooke told the woman. "This shouldn't take too long... we're doing some naked milking tonight! Give us a few minutes with him."
Once they had the young man inside the booth, Tina and Brooke dropped their bath towels. Both young ladies were wearing nothing but their vinyl examination gloves and their shoes - Brooke was wearing a pair of purple high heels, and Tina had black and white saddle shoes on her feet - and both of them were in very good physical shape.
Tina the Semen Girl had pert, average-sized breasts, pretty, pouting lips, and straight, light-brown, shoulder-length hair. Brooke, her trainer, was taller than Tina, with much bigger boobs, and her curly brown hair, tinted red, was almost long enough to cover her naked, erect nipples.
"Get to work, Tina," Brooke instructed the younger girl.
.... There is more of this story ...