I jumped in just as the subway doors slammed shut behind me. Last car. Packed. It felt like I had just dived into a sea of suits, sweat, and cologne. I found myself facing the door, hands pressed against the cold metal, my back completely exposed to the crowd behind me. Twenty minutes. That’s all I needed to endure. Just twenty. But my shirt was still soaked with coffee. The fabric had dried in patches and clung to my chest like a second skin. I could feel everything. Every sway of the train… every shift in the bodies behind me.
And then... a touch.
At first, I thought it was just the movement of the crowd. An accidental brush. But then it happened again. Fingers trailing just a little too slow along the curve of my back. A knuckle grazes my waist. Then lower. My breath caught in my throat. I bit my lip, hard. The train rattled and I stayed still. The warmth of someone’s breath close to my neck made my skin shiver.
Then came another touch. Firmer. Closer. A choked, tiny sound slipped out of me. Barely audible. But I felt my face burn in shame…
Wait, what's that...?! A hand on my back going into my pants, or a big bulge pressing and rubbing against my *ss?
Leave a comment with your favorite option.
Ong
2025-08-02 14:49:42 +0000 UTCBoneitis
2025-07-28 13:14:08 +0000 UTC