He likes his girls glazed.

With your head squarely held between two drunk, flexing hands, he thrusts hard into your face. Fingers grip at your cheeks and chin as he throats you again and again, the lewd sounds piping up and filling the train. You grunt and groan in protest, but nothing seems to get to him. You shut your eyes with no other options, leaving your lips to be his. You thought about biting or smacking, but if he's crazy enough to mouth fuck someone on the subway, he's crazy enough to hit back.

He groans, holding himself steady for a long moment, still very much buried in your lips. You feel the balls, which have currently contact welded themselves to your chin, begin to flex.

He pulls back in a fervor, and you silently thank the lord your eyes were shut as he strokes the first wad across your face. It streaks your chin and across your closed right eye. It throbs once again flings a shot across your forehead and into your hair. Another coated your lips. It only slowed down once nearly every inch was coated, so he decided to leave your hair a mess too by using it to sponge up what was left.

He pulled away finally, pulled his pants up, and left. Only then had you realized you'd spent his whole orgasm holding your breath. You breathe in; big mistake. The yellowish cum smelt like pool cleaner, and barely moved an inch, drying against your skin in freakish clumps of baby batter.