Hard-seat train at midnight

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

I'm on a business trip. Where to? I forget. By train. Hard seat. Night train. A handsome man sat opposite me, with an air of distinction, and kept glancing at me.
It was midnight. All the main lights in the carriage were off, only the aisle lights remained, emitting a faint glow. The other passengers were asleep. I was also drowsy, and closed my eyes. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I felt my legs and feet throbbing, so I took off my shoes and stretched them out on the opposite seat, next to the handsome man's buttocks. He gave my feet a little space. I quickly fell asleep. In the darkness, I felt him help me take off my white cotton socks. He held my feet, taking one off, then the other. He gently held one of my feet and massaged it steadily and firmly. My heart was pounding, and waves of tingling sensations spread through my body. I couldn't describe the feeling, only that it was so stimulating, so exciting. He patiently massaged the soles and toes of my bare feet, and I let him do as he pleased, without struggling. Without realizing it, my sexual desire had been ignited. I realized the narrow strips of my thong were digging into my labia, constantly rubbing against my clitoris. I blushed, my mind racing, but I had to pretend to be asleep. My legs are long, shapely, and white—the part of my body I'm most satisfied with.
My feet are fair with a rosy tint, delicate skin, high arches, and perfectly toes—the part of my body I find most sensual. It's a pity my husband doesn't appreciate or cherish them. A man is caressing my feet, and I can't help but openly touch my clitoris, masturbating ecstatically… In this dreamlike state, I ascend to my own paradise, finally waking slowly amidst azure and wetness. I wake up still panting, my body hot. If an orgasm is 100, I've reached 90. I rarely feel this excited in my sleep. But it happened. I really like him. Every time I think about being with him, I get excited. This thing is addictive. I became addicted. I wanted to see him and hold him every day. If I couldn't see him, I felt lost, and I had no mood or motivation for anything. When I got home and into bed, I would secretly recall the "bad" things he had done to me... and thinking about them would become unbearable, burning with desire. So I would touch myself. Play with myself. I would tease myself, play with myself. In the moments before my masturbation orgasm, I would imagine myself as a lowly female slave stripped naked in a slave market, being publicly humiliated and played with by him. Masturbation is addictive. Thinking about him led me to masturbate. Masturbation made me think about him even more. I sank deeper and deeper into the abyss of lust, sometimes even able to orgasm just by clamping my legs together without using my hands. After my body was "developed" by my lover, I felt a surge of desire throughout my body.
For example, right now, after waking up, I lay in bed and continued to casually touch my genitals, easily reaching orgasm within a minute. Masturbation is my secret life. I can't help myself, I'm not in control of myself. Masturbation felt so wonderful. It became an important part of my personal life again; I felt like I was back in the two years before my marriage, masturbating intensely day and night.

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