A Decade of Secrets

My name was Quinn Clarke. I was 26 years old.

I had a great figure and good looks, and I worked as a teacher at a private middle school. But underneath all of that, the truth was that I was just a wife who had been starved for a very long time.

My husband, Garrett Weber, was getting older. His performance in the bedroom kept getting worse, and his interest in me was fading. He could not satisfy me anymore.

Even when I wore my finest lingerie and paraded around in front of him, he could barely get hard. Every night, deep in the dark, I had to take care of my own needs.

This kind of life left me aching with desire. I even started to fantasize about being pinned down by a strong man and taken roughly. I knew these fantasies were wrong.

After all, I was a married woman with a husband. However, the longer this went on, the more my ridiculous thoughts grew. I could not stop them. Hence, I threw myself into my work instead.

Then, one day, I squeezed onto the morning rush hour subway as usual. The crowd pushed me into the corner. In all the chaos, I felt something hard press up against my backside from behind.

It felt so sensitive.

I knew exactly what it was. I wanted to move away, but the carriage was simply too packed. I could not move an inch. Instead, that thing pressing against me from the man behind only made my body feel weak and hot all over.

As the train started and stopped, the motion kept shoving me against him. My full, round backside kept getting pushed open by his movements. The feeling of being touched like this in public embarrassed me to no end.

What was worse, with each jolt, I could clearly feel the man behind me getting more excited.

Why was this happening? Even through my pencil skirt, his heat made me so ashamed that I could barely stand it. My whole body went soft.

With each of his movements, my face grew redder and redder. I had never been treated like this in such a public place. On top of that, I was a married woman. I had a husband.

I was so embarrassed and angry that I was about to turn around and snap at him, but the moment I turned my head, I was so shocked that I could not speak. I actually knew this man who was pressing against me.

He was the father of one of my students. His name was Leonard Johnston. I had seen him several times at parent-teacher conferences in school.

The moment I realized that the man touching me on the subway was my student's father, I completely panicked. I had always been shy. If it had been a stranger, I could have put on a serious expression and scolded him for his behavior. However, in front of someone I knew, I had no idea what to do.

I quickly turned back around in a panic.

Yet to my surprise, this reaction of mine only made Leonard bolder. He pushed even harder. I could clearly feel his body pressing against me, but there was nothing I could do. I could only blush and try to squirm away.

The problem was that the train was so packed that there was no room for me to go. I could not even get off. I felt desperate, but there was nowhere to hide. All I could do was blush and nervously wiggle my hips.

What I did not expect was that this movement let him slide right along the curve of my backside and push into the deepest, most sensitive part of me.