Transit 34, Part 1 (Patreon)

Lori had barely made it to the restroom before she leaned against the cold, solid surface of the sink. Her breathing was fast and shallow, her chest rising and falling as the realization of her behavior with the bartender crashed over her like a wave. The deliberate way she had flaunted herself, pushing her breasts forward, biting her lip, playing into the allure that she had never even considered embracing before… it left her shaken. But more disturbingly, it left her unbearably excited.

Her body buzzed with an unfamiliar, almost uncontrollable arousal that seemed to stem from deep inside her, pulsating through every nerve. She could still feel the bartender’s eyes trailing over her curves, devouring every inch of her transformed body. Her mind recoiled at how brazen she had been, yet her body responded with undeniable heat. The wetness between her legs was undeniable.

God, she was so turned on. She tried to steady herself, but her clutch—still clutched tightly in her manicured hands—was all she could think about. Her red nails, gleaming under the fluorescent lights, dragged against the cool metal surface of the clutch, and a sudden thought pushed its way into her mind. Without thinking, she pressed the clutch hard against her crotch.

A sharp, intoxicating pleasure shot through her body as the pressure made contact with her pierced clit, the delicate barbell nestled there like an electric wire. She gasped, her lips parting as her knees nearly buckled. Her hips moved instinctively, grinding against the clutch, the friction of the fake leather shorts only heightening the sensation. Her mind told her to stop, but her body refused to listen. Each press sent a fresh wave of pleasure rolling through her, coaxing a soft moan from her lips.

Her breath hitched as she slowly set the clutch aside on the counter, her body aching for more. Lori’s hand trailed down her stomach, her fingers finding the waistband of her shorts. She had been too caught up in the chaos to realize—she wasn’t even wearing a thong. There was nothing between her skin and the tight leather except her own damp desire.

Her fingers slid lower, and she gasped as she felt the slickness of her arousal. The material of her shorts rubbed sensually against her most sensitive spots, making every touch of her fingers all the more powerful. Lori bit her lip, her eyes closing as she lost herself in the sensation. The barbell in her clit moved slightly as she pressed her palm against herself, sending jolts of pleasure straight through her core.

Without even thinking, Lori began rubbing herself harder, her fingers gliding over the leather shorts, feeling the pleasure building in her body. She could feel the outlines of her fingers through the fabric as they pressed deeper, teasing herself, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. The leather was warm and sticky against her skin, the sensation almost too much to bear. But she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop.

Her breath quickened, her chest heaving as her hips bucked against her own touch. The piercings, the tight leather, the overwhelming arousal… it all built together into a frenzied, desperate need for release. Her free hand gripped the counter as she began to grind harder, the pressure against her clit nearly unbearable but oh-so-sweet.

“God…” she whimpered, her voice thick with lust, her nails digging into her skin as she rubbed faster, the pleasure becoming a raging fire inside her. The wetness beneath her fingers grew as the waves of pleasure intensified, building toward something inevitable and unstoppable. Her moans echoed off the bathroom walls, getting louder, more insistent.