fuckmeat
That all you got?
- Joined
- Apr 19, 2010
- Posts
- 2,492
So, through no fault of my own, this week I developed an entirely new fetish, one that may well get me killed.
I missed a train and had to wait nearly an hour on a train platform at a tiny station with no ticket office or waiting room. I left my sunscreen at home. The sun was blazing straight at my face. There was no shade anywhere. I have very fair skin and in less than 20mins I knew I couldn't sit there an hour without suffering third degree burns.
It was a tiny station.
I was completely alone.
No, I didn't masturbate! They have CCTV.
I had a light scarf around my neck and I wound up with no choice but to cover my head with it and shade my face. Like I said, I have very fair skin and the sun was blazing. I was therefore wearing a light but long sleeved top and trousers... modest, one might say.
A short while before the next train arrived, so did some other people. They stayed at the opposite end of the train platform to me. I got a couple looks but dismissed it. I didn't even realise what I'd done.
Until my train pulled in and I stood up to board it, clocking my own reflection in the window, wearing modest clothes with a scarf over my head and hair, Muslim style. This I might add, was in a rural village, miles from a more diverse city centre.
People openly stared at me.
British people do not ever stare at anyone while on pubic transport. National etiquette dictates that you make eye contact with no-one. You politely pretend that everyone else simply isn't there. Even on a crowded train. Unless and until you need someone to move to let you pass (for which you always apologise profusely) you look at your phone, a paper, the floor, the door, or out the window.
By then I felt stupid, way too stupid to come out from behind my hijab or sunglasses. But the scarf was very light and I could see through the gauzy material in the sunlight. In the tiny carriage with me were some boys aged maybe 12 or 14 who glared at me and expressed negative views about Al-Qa'ida. Two middle aged women sat together immediately struck up a conversation about Islamic terrorism, while shooting suspicious looks at my shopping. Everyone seemed to find me fascinating. Then then the conductor came along selling tickets. He took one look at me and assumed I must be foreign, so he spoke very slowly to me at the top of his voice, drawing even more attention my way.
When I disembarked at my station, I got watched by one of the station's staff all the way along the platform to the toilets. There seemed to be some kind of force-field that prevented people from moving within three feet of me.
In the toilet I loitered for ten minutes, put the scarf in a bag and put on a cardigan. I only hope the fact that the 'muslim woman' didn't re-emerge didn't get the whole station evacuated.
It deeply shocked me. The whole ordeal was very intimidating, even for just the short journey I made. It makes me feel very sorry for Muslim women who wear hijabs or niqabs in western society.
But I have to say it, the humiliation whore in me was captivated by the experience.
I missed a train and had to wait nearly an hour on a train platform at a tiny station with no ticket office or waiting room. I left my sunscreen at home. The sun was blazing straight at my face. There was no shade anywhere. I have very fair skin and in less than 20mins I knew I couldn't sit there an hour without suffering third degree burns.
It was a tiny station.
I was completely alone.
No, I didn't masturbate! They have CCTV.
I had a light scarf around my neck and I wound up with no choice but to cover my head with it and shade my face. Like I said, I have very fair skin and the sun was blazing. I was therefore wearing a light but long sleeved top and trousers... modest, one might say.
A short while before the next train arrived, so did some other people. They stayed at the opposite end of the train platform to me. I got a couple looks but dismissed it. I didn't even realise what I'd done.
Until my train pulled in and I stood up to board it, clocking my own reflection in the window, wearing modest clothes with a scarf over my head and hair, Muslim style. This I might add, was in a rural village, miles from a more diverse city centre.
People openly stared at me.
British people do not ever stare at anyone while on pubic transport. National etiquette dictates that you make eye contact with no-one. You politely pretend that everyone else simply isn't there. Even on a crowded train. Unless and until you need someone to move to let you pass (for which you always apologise profusely) you look at your phone, a paper, the floor, the door, or out the window.
By then I felt stupid, way too stupid to come out from behind my hijab or sunglasses. But the scarf was very light and I could see through the gauzy material in the sunlight. In the tiny carriage with me were some boys aged maybe 12 or 14 who glared at me and expressed negative views about Al-Qa'ida. Two middle aged women sat together immediately struck up a conversation about Islamic terrorism, while shooting suspicious looks at my shopping. Everyone seemed to find me fascinating. Then then the conductor came along selling tickets. He took one look at me and assumed I must be foreign, so he spoke very slowly to me at the top of his voice, drawing even more attention my way.
When I disembarked at my station, I got watched by one of the station's staff all the way along the platform to the toilets. There seemed to be some kind of force-field that prevented people from moving within three feet of me.
In the toilet I loitered for ten minutes, put the scarf in a bag and put on a cardigan. I only hope the fact that the 'muslim woman' didn't re-emerge didn't get the whole station evacuated.
It deeply shocked me. The whole ordeal was very intimidating, even for just the short journey I made. It makes me feel very sorry for Muslim women who wear hijabs or niqabs in western society.
But I have to say it, the humiliation whore in me was captivated by the experience.
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