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There was no room to move, and everyone seemed to be standing very close, bodies pressed together uncomfortably. The way I was wearing that shirt, no one could see his hands under it.
I checked my phone and put it back into a pocket in my purse, then placed my purse on top of my carry on.
That was about the moment when I first felt that someone was behind me. I turned partially as if adjusting my shirt to see who was directly behind me.
It was first just a sense of someone's presence, then a scent of unfamiliar, strong cologne, then the feeling of a body behind mine. It was an older black man, about my height, maybe a little taller, wearing a black shirt and slacks. I was puzzled at two things: first, why would he be touching my hips on a public tram that had so many people on it, and second, why wasn't I confronting him? The man's hands had only been upon me for a few moments and yet my mind had gone through what seemed like an hour's worth of thoughts about the situation. It was no big deal, after all, there may be a good reason why he is holding my hips-around my waist.
I would shove them all aside and ride his cock and scream and fucking love it. I can control my sexual desires, who I chose to look at and who I give energy to. All that was true, but right then, in that tram at the airport, I was this man's slut.
Stephen liked me to look sexy on vacation and that's exactly how I felt today as I wore no bra in my outfit: sexy! I KNOW WHERE TO GO." He responded with a smiley-face emoticon. I glanced around the tram gate area and noticed a large number of people pushing closer to the entrance where the next tram would pull in. With my carry on behind me, I hurried onto the tram as it opened its doors. His fingertips were not to the point where he could feel my nipples, if he had, he would feel that they were embarrassingly hard. But I didn't do that and at that particular time, I did not understand why. I moved my hand down to grab my carry on and purse as half the occupants exited. I searched their eyes for any who could see the grotesque movement under my cover shirt of hands molesting my married tits. My shirt moved outward and to each side as he had his way with my precious, recently tanned, perfect tits. It was at that moment, that I realized that I was turned on. I felt his hands leave my breasts and instead of feeling relieved, I felt empty. There was the unmistakable scent of sex in the air of the enclosed tram.
As we approached the tram gates, Stephen dashed through the crowd thinking I was right behind him. The passengers exited the other side as those on my side entered. Instead, he was moving his palms and fingers together and feeling the curvaceous sides of my breasts. I took a step toward a woman whose back was to me, but as soon as he sensed I was moving away, he pulled me back even closer to him. I was further to the back corner than I had been, and his body was fully pressed against mine. I looked up at the monitor and saw that we were only half way to Area B. My new plan was to exit, then get help and rejoin my husband at Area D. I felt a jolt of electricity run straight through me. Some semen had spilt upon the floor and my lover and I were at opposite ends of the car. As we pulled into the airport hub, I exited the tram as quickly as I could and walked to other side. I returned to another car and began the trip to Area D where my husband was waiting for me. I'M ON THE TRAM NOW." I embraced my husband as if I had been away from him for a week.
I partially turned around, only I could not completely see the man this time. My heart began to race faster with every second that his hands did not move away.
The possibility that this may just be a simple accident-an older man who had lost his footing and reached out to maintain his balance- was disappearing with each passing moment.