I was molested on the train... I was in the middle seat of a three-seat row, and the molester (a businessman, estimated to be in his early 30s) was in the window seat. The aisle seat next to me was empty because the person had gotten off earlier. I was a bit drowsy, but I felt a bit restless. I turned my upper body towards the aisle, slightly opening my right leg to touch the businessman's leg. Oh, why was I wearing jeans that day... If I had been wearing a skirt, he could have touched me directly. The businessman had his left hand resting on his left leg, looking absent-minded, so I pretended to relax and slightly opened my knees, touching his right knee. At first, the businessman didn't make a move, but maybe he thought I was really asleep, and he started by gently touching my thigh with his pinky finger, then his ring finger... Eventually, he placed his palm on my thigh, softly caressing from the outer to the inner thigh. I wanted him to touch me more firmly, so I pretended to be half-asleep, turning my upper body towards him and resting my head slightly on his shoulder. Deciding it was safe, the businessman kept his left hand where it was and started caressing my side with his right hand. Ah... remembering it makes me wet. His left hand, which was caressing, gradually moved from my inner thigh to my private area... It felt good... I wanted him to touch me more strongly... If possible, I wanted him to insert his fingers...! I moved my upper body closer to him, whispering softly, "Mmm... ah..." to entice him. But unfortunately, I was wearing jeans that day, commonly known as skinny jeans, and I had a belt on, so he couldn't get his hand inside, which was frustrating! If he could have touched me directly, he would have known how wet I was... We couldn't go any further, and he just kept caressing me. His index finger, which was touching my side, traced the outline of my chest, going back and forth from the bottom to the side. Gradually, more fingers joined in, occasionally catching the tip of my breast... Actually, I had taken off my bra in the bathroom beforehand, so under my top, I was bare-chested. That's why the chest play felt so good. It was hard to hold back. I wanted him to lift my top and take my nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue and gently biting it. But if he really lifted my top, people passing by in the aisle or in the row across would see, which would be embarrassing. After about an hour of this frustrating yet pleasurable time, I heard the announcement for my stop, so I pretended to wake up, got off, and it ended there. I indulged in a rare moment of aesthetic pleasure. I'm married and living in the countryside now, but a few years ago, I used to commute on crowded trains in the city, and I loved being molested. I deliberately took the same train at the same time every day, in the same car, in the same spot. When leaving home for work, I always got molested by the same businessman who boarded at the same station. He looked timid with glasses. The location was usually at the very back of the car, and when I boarded from there, I naturally got pushed to the corner. In a tight mini-suit, I stood facing the window, slightly opening my legs as if the feet of the man sitting in front of me were in the way. Then the man with glasses would start by groping my butt over my skirt. Gradually, he would move his hand towards the hem of my skirt, enjoying the feel of my stockings as he stroked from my thighs to my butt... (On days when I was in the mood, I went to work without stockings.) His hand, which was groping my butt, gradually moved to my private area... I liked being teased with his fingers, lightly touching and prodding me. Eventually, he would slip his hand into my underwear and start touching me directly where I was feeling it. I liked having his fingers inside me, but that molester would only lightly insert and withdraw his fingertips, making me ache even more. I would lower my face, close my eyes, and lightly push my butt out myself...

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