Sticky Rock

In a rockiest bus ride of Shyan’s life, the tight spot at the last row, near a window, was the worst place to be with a wide shouldered-guy next to her. His large tote bag was brightly coloured and she was trying her hardest to stop looking around and enjoy the music in her ears.

Before she realised he had whipped his cock out, the last row was emptied and there wasn’t anymore standing passengers. He grabbed her hand and slipped it under his bag, hitting her with the hard on that sufficiently told her about he was up to. The first attempt to scream did not go further than a yelp that was abruptly stopped by a pinch on her sideboobs through her bra.

It was a sharp pain that lingered on for a long time, one she couldn’t forget. A reminder of what he would do if she didn’t comply, her palms turned cold immediately.

‘Work your hand now.’

She kept her eyes on the passing cars as she jerked him off, chaffing her knuckles against his canvas bag and jeans. That straight face he put up was admirable to some extend, it didn’t make any of what was happening under his carrier any easier to do.

‘Keep going.. it’s ending.. ‘

She had no idea what he meant until he pushed his bag down harder on her grip, till his cum lined her fingers with that sticky goo. He flung her hand onto her dress once he was done and intentionally wiped some on her outfit. The zip went back out no matter who was looking, and he alighted at the next top.

Her fingers couldn’t open wider after that non-consensual handjob, self-pitying until she reached her destination. No amount of washing could rinse that stain off her mind, leaving her in a confused state for the days to come.

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