Strangers on a Tram


The flight from Miami to our home took about two hours. My husband and I had a lovely vacation in the Bahamas. An all-inclusive, romantic, fun, get-away. A much needed break from our professional routines. We stayed in Miami for a couple of days to visit some friends and then made the trip back with relatively little fanfare. After deplaning, we are finally on our way to our car.

“Let’s find that Air-Tram and get to the parking lot. Where were we? Lot 28 in Area D?” My husband, Stephen, was trying to remember.

“I believe so.” I checked in my billfold. “Yes, that’s right. Good memory, Baby!” I smiled back at him.

We made our way to the far end of the terminal after deplaning. It was Spring Break and the airport was quite busy. We had to catch one of the non-stop Air-Tram trains that moved us to one of the remote parking lots for long term parking. The trains maintained a circular route as they picked-up and left-off passengers from the four main terminals to the various parking locations around the circumference of the airport.

I was trying my best to keep up in my four-inch heels. My clothes weren’t made for fast-walking either. I had on a short, beige summer dress with a faint sunflower print. It was mid-thigh length and was cut rather low across my chest. I also had a light blue button-down shirt I wore as a light jacket to hide my substantial cleavage from passersby. Stephen liked me to look sexy on vacation and that’s exactly how I felt today as I wore no bra in my outfit: sexy!

As we approached the tram gates, Stephen dashed through the crowd thinking I was right behind him. He boarded the tram and turned to see me about thirty feet away as the doors closed. He made a pouty-face and motioned to call him. I texted him:


He responded with a smiley-face emoticon.

I relaxed a bit having no need to rush any longer. I glanced around the tram gate area and noticed a large number of people pushing closer to the entrance where the next tram would pull in. I moved with them.

With my carry on behind me, I hurried onto the tram as it opened its doors. The passengers exited the other side as those on my side entered. Since I was on for the duration, I immediately stepped to the back corner where there were fewer people clustered together. I moved my rolling carry on in front of me and backed myself up to where there was a closed corner to the tram.

The electronic bells sounded at the closing of the doors and the monitor displayed where the tram was in relation to the airport map. The parking lot I was looking for was in Area D. the tram was currently in Area A. I relaxed my stance and looked around the car as it began to pull away.

There were at least two-dozen people in the crowded space. Business men and women reading their phones, a family with two children that looked tired and disheveled, a couple of pairs of college students traveling for their break. There was no room to move, and everyone seemed to be standing very close, bodies pressed together uncomfortably.

I checked my phone and put it back into a pocket in my purse, then placed my purse on top of my carry on. That was about the moment when I first felt that someone was behind me.

It was first just a sense of someone’s presence, then a scent of unfamiliar, strong cologne, then the feeling of a body behind mine.

‘How could I have missed that?’ I wondered. I turned partially as if adjusting my shirt to see who was directly behind me. It was an older black man, about my height, maybe a little taller, wearing a black shirt and slacks. He was just standing against the wall looking away from me. His skin color and clothing made him blend into the shadow that was created in the corner area.

I smiled, not wanting him to feel as though I was bothered by his standing there, then turned back to face the rest of the car. Not thinking anything more about it.

The tram ride was bumpy in some areas, and swayed a bit in a comfortable rhythm. I looked up to see our progress to the parking lot when I felt it: the unmistakable feeling of two hands placed lightly on my hips.

I partially turned around, only I could not completely see the man this time. He had moved closer to me. My heart began to race faster with every second that his hands did not move away. The possibility that this may just be a simple accident-an older man who had lost his footing and reached out to maintain his balance- was disappearing with each passing moment. He had purposely placed his hands there and was purposely keeping them there.

I took a few deep breaths and looked around the car, my eyes dashing frantically, searching for someone who could see what was happening. ‘I was being violated, people! Don’t they see?!’ I screamed in my own head. Then, I calmed myself down. This was a public place. Nothing can happen here. I almost laughed out loud. ‘What is he doing anyway?’ I thought. I was puzzled at two things: first, why would he be touching my hips on a public tram that had so many people on it, and second, why wasn’t I confronting him? Why was I letting it happen?!

The man’s hands had only been upon me for a few moments and yet my mind had gone through what seemed like an hour’s worth of thoughts about the situation. I had decided not to do anything. It was no big deal, after all, there may be a good reason why he is holding my hips-around my waist. No need to rush to judgement. I took a deep breath to relax.

His hands left my waist. I sighed in relief. It was nothing, just as I thought. I smiled widely and centered my handbag that had shifted on the carry on.

Suddenly, I felt chills over my body. His hands were back. They grazed my sides, near my ribcage and were slowly caressing my torso.

‘Oh God, no!’ I thought. He moved his hands from my hips up to just below my shoulder blades. They kept moving, wandering all over my back and upper body.

I gasped. He was now firmly gripping the sides of my bra-less Double-D breasts. He held the sides of my tits in his hands hidden between my dress and the shirt I was wearing as a cover up. The way I was wearing that shirt, no one could see his hands under it.

I nearly pissed my underwear. ‘What the fuck!’ I asked myself. I turned my head to see if I could get him in my peripheral, but again, he was too close. My heart was beating so fast I could feel it pounding in my head. My body tingled in a strange electrical sensation.

I looked at each person in the car. No one even glanced at me. They were all in their own worlds. I couldn’t believe the balls on this asshole. Who the fuck does this?

His fingertips were not to the point where he could feel my nipples, if he had, he would feel that they were embarrassingly hard. Instead, he was moving his palms and fingers together and feeling the curvaceous sides of my breasts.

I reacted by moving away from him. I took a step toward a woman whose back was to me, but as soon as he sensed I was moving away, he pulled me back even closer to him.

Now I was worse off than I was before. I was further to the back corner than I had been, and his body was fully pressed against mine. I gave a silent cry in despair. Why was this happening to me? What should I do? Why did I feel helpless to do anything? I could easily just raise my voice: ‘Stop touching me!’ He would put his hands down, everyone would stare and I could break free.

But I didn’t do that and at that particular time, I did not understand why.

I looked up at the monitor and saw that we were only half way to Area B. Time seemed to have stood still while this assault was underway. Why isn’t anyone doing anything about this?

As a hundred thoughts ran through my head, he once again adjusted his hold upon me. I clearly felt something thick and firm press against my ass. In a moment, I realized it was a large, hard cock. He was pressing himself against me while he held the sides of my breasts.

The tram bounced and just like that, his stiff erection slipped between my ass cheeks. I could feel him throb in my butt-cleavage.

I attempted to wiggle away from his hips, but this movement separated my ass more and firmly lodged his cock between them. Even with my skirt and his trousers between us, I could feel his cock between my cheeks. I was becoming frantic. I needed to do something before someone noticed. I was more concerned with getting discovered than I was with the prospect of the groping continuing. I thought, ‘This is crazy!’

I began to think it would soon be over. That he would feel me up, then leave me be. It didn’t happen that way, however.

The tram finally came to a rest at Area B. I moved my hand down to grab my carry on and purse as half the occupants exited. My new plan was to exit, then get help and rejoin my husband at Area D.

As I began to move forward, his big, black hands moved to cover the front of my full, sensitive breasts and grabbed them one in each hand. He used his new hold on me to pull me back and subdue me in our corner of the tram.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t yell. I didn’t use my elbow to hit his groin or stomach, or any of those things I could have done. I froze. I froze as his hands groped my delicious tits, squeezing and pinching. He began grinding his giant rod into the cheeks of my ass and I stood there like a victim and allowed him to accost me. I didn’t flinch, I didn’t move back, or forth. I stood like a statue. I didn’t have a clue what to do next.

New passengers boarded the tram. I searched their eyes for any who could see the grotesque movement under my cover shirt of hands molesting my married tits. His hands were not subtle. My shirt moved outward and to each side as he had his way with my precious, recently tanned, perfect tits. My husband would die if he saw me now.

I felt a chill run down my leg. A cool breeze seemed to penetrate my inner thighs. I reached down discretely to find to my horror that was dripping wet. I was wet to the point that I was literally leaking fluid out my pussy and it was running down my leg.

It was at that moment, that I realized that I was turned on. I felt a jolt of electricity run straight through me. I moaned silently and closed my eyes. I became dizzy. I felt his hands leave my breasts and instead of feeling relieved, I felt empty. ‘Where were his hands?’ I demanded in my head.

I could feel movement behind me. The bottom of my short dress brushed away and I felt a draft against the exposed skin of my butt cheeks. His thick, strong fingers were moving behind me, between my legs. My thong was lifted away and placed to the side.

I was panting. I closed my eyes slightly. I spread my legs apart. What was I doing?!

Then, he was there. His large thumb pressed over my tight, puckered asshole. He was orienting himself to my anatomy. I felt the tip of his thumb engage my asshole, then he inserted two giant fingers into my saturated snatch.

I gasped in surprise, but covered it up with an improvised cough. No one seemed to notice.

I felt his breath near my neck. I could feel his voice vibrate in a low whisper. “You’re mine now, pretty girl.” His voice sent shivers down my spine.

I nearly collapsed onto his hand, wanting it deep inside me and not teasing me as it was. I looked around me, tourists, business, men, grandma’s, no one looking. No one knows.

His thumb left my asshole, then dipped into my gushing pussy. He put it right back on my ass and pushed. What was I doing? Despite my clenching, his wet thumb slipped in. I felt myself adjust, my anal ring stretching around the first knuckle of his thumb.

His two fingers in my pussy became three. I trembled. He slipped in another finger, making my pussy stretch around four of his thick, rough fingers. He wiggled his thumb in my ass.

I thought, ‘Oh my God! This is so fucking hot…I can’t believe how turned on I am!’

I knew that at that moment, I would gladly fuck this old man right here in front of these twenty people. I would shove them all aside and ride his cock and scream and fucking love it.

I am not now, nor have I ever have been a slut. I can control my sexual desires, who I chose to look at and who I give energy to. I do not respond to men who flirt with me on those days when I am out on my own running errands, or out for coffee. I am not a flirtatious woman. I am a dedicated wife.

All that was true, but right then, in that tram at the airport, I was this man’s slut. He had some crazy control over me and I willingly consented to his sexual advances.

Back in the tram, I was standing in the corner, pushing my ass against his very skilled hand. He had his left hand now on my tits again. I used my hand to grab the pole I was standing near and I pushed back into him in a subtle fucking motion. I prepared for my first orgasm as I gripped the pole.

As I looked up and around, I couldn’t help but notice the sparkle of my wedding ring as I gripped the pole to push myself back onto the black hand.

Feeling my pussy open wide and accepting of all he could offer, I gyrated my hips and flexed my muscles to latch onto his fingers. He drove his thumb up into my grateful asshole and I had the quietest, and yet longest and most intense orgasm of my life. I shuddered and convulsed. I panted and whimpered…all as silently as I could. I leaked and drained my pussy onto his strong hand and I yearned for more.

As I began to come back to my senses I discovered he was holding me up. I also discovered that the tram had opened its doors. The monitor read “Area C.”

More people came in. I was pressed more closely to the black stranger. I felt his hands leave me. My skirt was lifted up from behind. A searing hot shaft of flesh slid between my thighs and moved its way back and forth. My wetness coated it. I lubricated the cock that was about fuck me on the tram.

His cock was out and it was between my legs and it was fucking fabulous. My skirt must have been draped across his enormous shaft in the back as he just let it wedge between my legs. I looked around trying to see if anyone noticed. They didn’t.

I glanced down. There was a thick bump jutting out in the front of my skirt. It throbbed and a dark spot appeared in the thin material of my dress. It was his cock and he was leaking pre-cum.

Both of his hands were on my breasts, kneading them from behind. I was straddling his pole and rubbing my hungry clit and throbbing pussy against it. His fingers had found my nipples and he tweaked them and twisted them. I had to bite my lip so as not to scream.

My husband was waiting for me to join him at Area D, but my body wouldn’t move. It would not walk through the open tram doors as the car stopped and the monitor read Area D. I watched as no new passengers get on. This was the end of the line. The tram reversed its course and began a return run to the terminals where it would begin its journey all over again.

I watched as the doors remain open. I knew my husband waited on the stairway just below the tram platform, but I am unable to move. The doors close. Now we were alone in the car. I am pushed to the floor resting on my hands and knees. I reach around and lift my skirt above my ass and gather it around my waist. I spread my legs wide for my dark lover.

He grabs his staff at the base and taps my dripping wet labia with the shiny head. “Splat” was the sound of his cock against my lips. It sounded like someone stepping into a puddle.

He circles the head and stirs the opening to my body, then thrusts it deep into me. With that thrust, he ends my ten years of fidelity to my husband. He fucks like a man that knows what he’s doing. Long, deep thrusts into me, grabbing the firm cheeks of my ass with his muscular hands. I scream as he fills me as I’ve never been filled before. “Fuck me!” I yell, finally able to speak in the emptiness of the moving tram car.

“Take the dick baby, take that fucking dick!” He responds with foreign words, words that I am not used to hearing during sex. His harsh dialogue reminds me that we are worlds apart, despite sharing this most intimate of acts.

His pace becomes faster. The floor of the car is dirty, but not filthy, I press my cheek against the dirt. It feels gritty against my soft flesh. I think, ‘this is so wrong,’ and begin to cum.

My pussy releases a massive orgasm. I remember seeing windows and floor and feeling my ass getting spanked, but little else. I cry out my husband’s name for some reason. The black man slows his pace. Back to long strokes. He hasn’t cum yet.

I am pulled up to my feet and spun around facing my assaulter. He moves me hurriedly to the corner again. In a surprisingly athletic move, he puts my shoulders against the back wall of the tram and pins me there.

We make eye contact for the first time as he lifts me slightly, then sets me back down on his impressive cock. He takes a moment to lower my dress straps, exposing my heavy, free-hanging breasts. And then he begins fucking me against the wall in earnest.

I look into his eyes, pure blackness. He forces his mouth against mine, but I resist. My muffled moans deny his intimacy as his cock slams into my pussy. His slimy tongue wets my lips looking to enter my mouth. His breath smells of alcohol and cigarettes.

I relent in a powerful open-mouth kiss. Almost crying tears of lustful pleasure I rock my pelvis into his enormous black cock. Our tongues twirl and slide against each other. He breaks the sloppy kiss off and works his mouth over my swollen, erect nipples. Sucking each one, applying just enough pressure to send me into another orgasm.

“Oh, oh, fuck! Fuck me! Fuck me!” I wailed as I gushed over his black dick.

His strokes became deeper and the girth of his member became larger, fuller, he felt like a hot, steel rod as he pounded me. I grabbed him over his shoulders, resting my head upon one as he began filling me with cum.

“That’s…it…fuck…woman!!” He moaned more, but it was unintelligible. His cries were followed by the hot, thick, unmistakable feeling of semen being injected into my womb. Thrust after thrust, he relentlessly stuffed me with his hot sperm. I came as he pumped what would be the last trickle of cum into my body.

We both embraced each other before he pulled out and in one, expert motion sheathed his cock within his pants, zipped up and stood across the tram waiting for the door.

I used my thong to sop up what I could, but found that I needed to open my carry on to get a T-shirt to clean the rest. I was oozing this man’s cum as I stood grabbing the pole in the middle of the tram.

There was the unmistakable scent of sex in the air of the enclosed tram. Some semen had spilt upon the floor and my lover and I were at opposite ends of the car. It was over. As we pulled into the airport hub, I exited the tram as quickly as I could and walked to other side. The black man was gone. I returned to another car and began the trip to Area D where my husband was waiting for me. I stood with my back against the window: lesson learned.

I texted him:


I embraced my husband as if I had been away from him for a week. I never saw the black man again, nor have I cheated on Stephen since that day.

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