I was harassed by a stranger on the subway, almost assaulted, when he showed up. He was the guy I’d been crushing on for over two years— my best friend’s cousin. With this kind of proximity, I had the advantage, so I made my move, seducing him in every way until I finally got him into bed. “Whew… just made it!” I squeezed onto the crowded subway, panting as I sat down and reached for my phone to text my bestie. But as I glanced down, I realized something was seriously wrong. My full, pale cleavage had two obvious points sticking out! To look good for reuniting with my long-lost best friend, I’d dressed up carefully today. Wanting cute photos, I wore a low-cut halter top with nipple pasties underneath, but now somehow… The train jolted, and without any real support, they started bouncing. That’s when a sketchy guy in a face mask shuffled over from the other side and sat next to me. I quickly hunched over, trying to hide it, terrified he’d notice. But the next second, a big hand landed on my back. Then it slid down, squeezing my waist—not too hard, not too soft. “Ah…” I couldn’t hold back a soft moan. Realizing what happened, I clapped a hand over my mouth. But the guy grabbed my wrist with his rough hand and pulled it toward him. My hand was forced onto his belt buckle. “You…” I started to yell, but he covered my mouth and leaned in close to my ear, whispering slowly: “Go ahead and scream if you’re not afraid of embarrassing yourself. Better yet, let the whole train know you’re going out braless.” “You don’t want this getting filmed and posted online, do you?” He had a point. The train wasn’t empty—if things escalated and it went viral, my life would be ruined. But this was public transportation; even if he had bad intentions, he couldn’t do much. Seeing me quiet down, the creep smirked triumphantly, let go, and pulled down his mask, revealing yellowed teeth. I gagged in disgust, but that seemed to piss him off. One hand clamped the back of my neck while the other unzipped his pants! My head couldn’t resist the pressure; I was forced to bend down, inching closer to his foul-smelling crotch. That’s when it hit me—I’d been wrong from the start. Endless tolerance only gets you hurt! Better to be embarrassed than assaulted by a stranger! “Help! Help!” I screamed. As I struggled desperately, the hand on my neck suddenly went limp. Then I was yanked into a warm embrace. “Get lost now, or I’m calling the cops.” A deep, attractive male voice sounded in my ear. The pervert was all bark and no bite; hearing that, he zipped up frantically and bolted off at the next stop. “You okay?” The guy’s tone was incredibly gentle. I slowly looked up at him. The moment I saw his face, I froze. I knew him—not just knew him, he was the senior I’d crushed on for over two years in college—Michael Gao! “I-I’m fine, thank you.” I looked down, mortified, wishing the floor would swallow me. Then I felt warmth on my shoulders. He took off his jacket and draped it over me. He glanced at me thoughtfully, then held out his phone. On the screen was a photo—a selfie of me and my best friend. “Sarah Jenkins is my cousin. She mentioned her bestie was coming today—it must be you.” “I’ve been staying at her place these days. Come. Come on, let’s head back together.” The guy I’d crushed on was my best friend’s cousin! Yeah, I’d told Sarah about my crush, but never showed her his photo and always just called him “senior.” If I’d known this connection, I’d have made a move ages ago! But… it probably wasn’t too late now. I gave him a shy glance and nodded.
Besties reuniting means drinks all around. Michael drank plenty too. By the end, Sarah passed out face-down on the table. But I wasn’t drunk. I knew some things you can only pull off pretending to be wasted. So I pressed a palm to my forehead. Acted dizzy. Slumped straight into his lap. My head rested against his thigh. Warm. Firm. “You’ve had too much.” Alcohol gave me courage. I reached up. Touched his face. “You’re so handsome, Michael.” Fingers slid slow down his cheek. Over stubble. Down his throat. Felt his Adam’s apple bob. Lower still. Along collarbone. Over the hard planes of his chest. When I reached his abs, his large hand clamped mine fast. “You’re drunk.” Voice low. Rough. Sexy as sin. “Let me take you to your room.” “Okay… to the room.” I pouted. “But I can’t walk. Carry me.” He didn’t hesitate. Arms slid under me. Lifted me effortless. “Good. I’ll carry you.” Michael stared down. Desire burned open in his eyes. Dark. Hungry. My heart raced. Thought I’d won. But then his gaze cleared. Control snapped back. He carried me inside. Laid me gentle on the bed. Knelt. Slipped off my shoes one by one. Tucked the blanket over me. Stood to leave. I kicked the covers off. Whined soft. “Michael… don’t go. I’m so hot…” “These clothes… too tight. Hard to take off…” “Michael… Michael…” I sat up swaying. Grabbed his hand. Yanked hard. He wasn’t ready. Stumbled forward. Fell over me. His full weight pinned me a second. Then he caught himself on one arm. But his free hand landed perfect—right on my soft chest. Palm pressed warm through thin fabric. Nipple hardened instant under the pressure. Electricity shot everywhere. Tingles. Heat. Wet rush between my thighs. Breath caught. Body arched up into his touch without thinking. He froze. Eyes locked on mine. Pupils blown wide. I couldn’t stop now. Too far gone. My smaller hand covered his big one. Guided it. Pressed firmer. Made him squeeze. Soft flesh filled his palm. I moaned quiet. “Michael…” Voice breathy. “Does that feel good?” “Mmm, ye—” Before he finished, he pinched himself hard and jumped off me. “Sorry, I drank too much. Rest well—I’m going.” He fled the room like he was escaping. I sighed and flopped back. Was I really not attractive to him at all? Or did he prefer sweet and innocent types, not aggressive ones? If so, tomorrow morning I’d apologize! No, that would be too obvious. I’d pretend I blacked out from drinking—remember nothing. Then build a pure, sweet-girl image and slowly break down his defenses until he fell for me! Lost in thought, I heard strange noises. Listening closely, they were coming from next door—Michael’s room! I tiptoed to his door; it was ajar, a small crack open. Peeking in, my eyes widened. Michael was shirtless, leaning against the headboard, lower half covered by a gray blanket, his hand moving rhythmically under it. Guys need release sometimes—understandable. But what shocked me: as his movements lifted the blanket edge, I saw he was holding something purple. That purple was my lace thong with ties—I’d just washed it and hung it on the balcony tonight! Smiling, I gently pushed the door open.
The door slid open silently. Michael had his head thrown back in pleasure, oblivious to me entering. Seeing him like that made me itch with desire—this man was irresistible no matter what. I crept slowly toward the bed. Just as I reached the edge, he sensed something and snapped his eyes open. The second he saw me, panic hit. Michael’s face flushed; he clutched the sheet tight around his waist. He tried to stand, but the blanket was too small—if he did, his back would be fully exposed. So he stayed seated, eyes darting away, refusing to look at me. Like a kid caught misbehaving. I bent down and picked up the thong he’d dropped in his panic. “Oh! Michael, this… isn’t this mine…” I pretended to be shy, coquettishly tossing it into his lap. “You’re so bad! Stealing my panties to do naughty things! I hate you…” “Sorry, I… I…” To my surprise, Michael just apologized—no excuses. No wonder I picked him—he was a good guy! I sat on the bed and pressed a finger to his lips. “Michael, I’m not mad. I just… don’t understand.” “Understand what?” he asked. I stared intensely and leaned closer: “I just don’t get it—I’m right here. Why use my panties when you could have me?” “And if you’re using those, you need the set—can’t do without the bra, right?” As I spoke, I reached back, unclasped my bra, and slid it off my arms. Then, teasingly pinching the strap, I dangled it in front of him. If he was holding back before, he completely lost it now. His eyes burned with raw desire, ready to consume me. He flipped me onto the bed. Roughly snatching the bra, he pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand. “Michael, what are you doing?” I asked innocently. He smirked, leaning close to my ear: “You.” Then he bit my earlobe.
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