The usual commuter train. The usual crowded train.
And the usual molester that she hates.
If she could just endure it, she could get by.

But that day was different.

Hands kneading her plump breasts. Fingertips kneading her sensitive nipples. The skill of those who caressed her buttocks and slowly massaged them.

Silently, surely, she could tell her secret opening was beginning to moisten...

She couldn't hold back any longer. She wanted it.

She didn't care about her ego as a priest, or the existence of her fiancé.

She just wanted this molester to reach the depths of her pleasure. She wanted him to stimulate her urges.

Today, too, she would forget everything and seek the sexual pleasure of her commute.