I stepped into the crowded elevator, feeling the heat and humidity of the packed space envelop me. It was a typical busy day in the office building, and as I squeezed in, I found myself pressed against the back wall, surrounded by a sea of strangers. The elevator was already packed, and I could feel the bodies of my fellow passengers brushing against me as we all tried to find a comfortable position in the confined space. I adjusted my glasses, my heart racing slightly from the close proximity of so many people. I was Ava, a 54-year-old psychologist, used to listening to my patients’ intimate problems, but this situation was making me feel a bit uneasy.
The doors began to close, and just as they were about to seal us in, a young man rushed in, causing a stir among the crowd. The elevator groaned under the weight of the additional passenger, and I could feel the tension rise as the space became even more cramped. I shifted my weight, trying to find some relief from the pressure on my body, my eyes darting around, taking in the faces of my temporary companions.
Suddenly, the lights flickered and then went out, plunging us into complete darkness. A collective gasp filled the elevator, followed by murmurs of confusion and concern. I heard a voice, slightly distorted by the emergency speaker, announce that there had been a power outage and that technicians were working on the issue. The voice assured us that it would take some time, at least an hour, before the power was restored. An hour in this crowded, dark elevator? My stomach fluttered with a mix of anxiety and anticipation.
As I stood there, trying to adjust to the darkness, I felt a hand on my lower back, gently caressing my skin. My breath caught in my throat, and I stiffened, unsure of how to react. The hand moved slowly, tracing the curve of my spine, sending shivers down my body. I recognized the touch as male, but in the darkness, I couldn’t make out any features or identify the stranger. The hand felt confident, as if it knew exactly what it was doing, and I found myself both alarmed and intrigued.
The stranger’s hand began to wander lower, and I felt my skirt being lifted, inch by inch, exposing my thighs to the cool air. I was wearing a knee-length pencil skirt, and the fabric soon rested just below my hips, leaving my backside barely covered by my lacy black panties. I wanted to protest, to push the hand away, but something about the darkness and the anonymity of the situation made me hesitate. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, so I stood still, my heart pounding in my chest.
The hand continued its exploration, sliding between my thighs, the fingers gently grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I bit my lip to suppress a moan, my body betraying my desire to remain silent. The fingers teased me, getting closer and closer to my core, but never quite reaching it. I could feel my cheeks flushing, and I was grateful for the darkness, hoping no one could see my embarrassment.
And then, the stranger’s fingers found their way to the back of my panties, slipping underneath the lace and finding my wetness. I gasped softly as they began to stroke my clit, their touch firm and deliberate. They knew exactly how to pleasure a woman, and I couldn’t help but wonder who this mysterious man was. His fingers worked their magic, circling my clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, sending waves of pleasure through my body.
I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensations, my hands gripping the handrail in front of me. I was acutely aware of the other passengers, so close yet oblivious to what was happening to me. The stranger’s other hand snaked around my waist, pulling me closer, pressing my ass against their hardening cock. I could feel the length of it, straining against the fabric of their pants, and I couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have that thick shaft inside me.
The fingers on my clit quickened their pace, and I felt my knees weaken. I was grateful for the wall behind me, supporting my trembling body. My breath came in short gasps, and I bit my lip harder, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure that threatened to escape my throat. The stranger’s fingers were relentless, working me towards an orgasm I knew I couldn’t hold back much longer.
Just as I was about to climax, the hand stopped, leaving me teetering on the edge, desperate for release. I whimpered softly, my body aching for completion. The stranger’s breath was hot on my neck, and I could feel their lips brush against my ear as they whispered, “Not yet, beautiful. I want to make you beg for it.”
I shivered at the words, my body on fire. The hand returned to my clit, now joined by another, and they worked in unison, one teasing my sensitive bud while the other slipped inside my soaking wet pussy. I moaned softly, unable to contain myself any longer. The fingers inside me curled, finding my G-spot, and I felt my knees buckle as my body exploded in pleasure.
My orgasm ripped through me, causing my legs to tremble and my vision to blur. I clutched the handrail, my knuckles turning white, as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me. I was vaguely aware of the other passengers, some shifting uncomfortably, but no one seemed to notice the source of my pleasure. The stranger’s hands continued their assault, milking my orgasm, until I was sure my legs could no longer support me.
As the last tremors of my climax subsided, the hands withdrew, leaving me breathless and weak. I slumped against the wall, my body tingling, my panties drenched with my arousal. I wanted to turn around, to see the face of my anonymous lover, but the darkness still enveloped us, and I couldn’t bring myself to move.
Just then, the lights flickered back to life, revealing the crowded elevator and the curious faces of my fellow passengers. I quickly adjusted my skirt, my heart racing, my cheeks flushed. I scanned the faces, searching for the stranger, but he had disappeared, blending back into the crowd. I felt a twinge of disappointment, but also a sense of excitement at the mystery of it all.
The elevator resumed its descent, and as the doors opened on my floor, I stepped out, my legs still shaky from the intense encounter. I glanced back, hoping for one last glimpse of my secret elevator partner, but he was gone, lost in the sea of faces. I knew I would never know who he was, but the memory of his touch, the pleasure he had given me, would stay with me forever.
As I walked towards my office, I couldn’t help but smile, my mind replaying the events that had just unfolded. It was a unique, exhilarating experience, and I felt a newfound sense of freedom and desire coursing through my veins. I had been sexually assaulted, yet I couldn’t deny the pleasure it had brought me. I wondered if I would ever see that stranger again, but for now, I was content with the memory of his skilled hands and the mystery that would forever remain unsolved.