So much so that you have to slap my hands away so you can concentrate. You turn me back around, bend over and retrieve the sponge from the floor. Then...pour on more shower gel; give it a squeeze under the spray to get more bubbles to form. Then you start, my chest, my arms, around my back and then, down.I feel one of your hands cup my balls as the other, with the sponge, presses down on the head covering the whole of my cock in suds. My eyes roll back in my head and I have to put my arms out and. I gasped, "Please, no, don’t do that! How could you"? "Because I am a mean man and love breeding you slut bitches. When I leave I am leaving all of this seed in you so you can remember this time for the rest of your life. Soon your tits will ache and fill with milk and you will feel the growing seed deep in your pussy.My seed. A seed worthy of growing. Not his"!I was too far gone by this point, because I wanted it. I wanted to be his slut. His whore. His bitch. I wanted to have his bastard. “You’ve been with something like sixty girls, according to what you’ve said. Maybe, like Bethany said, that’s enough. In fact, I’d say that it’s more than enough. How many of those girls did you truly care about? I mean in a way that justified having sex with them? Ten? Five? One?”“I don’t know anymore,” I said, feeling defeated. “I thought all of them, except perhaps one or two.”“You don’t know. Isn’t that something you SHOULD know?”“Yes. But all of them are still friends.”“Did you need to. But I had no bag on this fateful day. The woman was attractive, in her mid 30's, Hispanic about 5' 3" and in good shape. My first thought was that if anyone was going to invade my space it could be alot worse (for example some overweight mouth breather who had forgotten to put on his prescription deodorant. Problems arose as more people got on the train at subsequent stops. The woman who I will call Latina Strap-hanger aka LS bent over slightly with her back to me so she could put her large bag.