It's just your luck - you get a seat next to a handsy guy

Keeping your eyes away from others you miss the puzzled sniffs they make as you pass, and miss the stares of some of the seated. At last you push your way to the back where one boy has just gotten up to get off, leaving a window-seat vacant next to a big beefy guy who's probably in college like you.

You make a motion to the seat in the universal gesture of 'is this taken?', and when he doesn't respond, staring up at you instead, you squeeze between the seat in front and his legs. Your skirt catches on the seat fabric, giving him an eyeful of your cheek bottoms, but in a moment you're past and gingerly sitting.

"Jeremy," he says, offering a hand, which you finally take, opting to be polite.

"Jenny," you mumble, and dig into your purse, thankful to find a few bits of make-up.

"Rough night?" he asks, and rather than take the effort to glare you shrug non-committally.

"Had a few of those myself. Got lucky, got drunk, woke up just in time for the bus," he continues to chat while you eye yourself in the compact mirror with horror.

Your cheeks are visibly stained by crusted fluids, your makeup of the previous night has run, and there are white streaks in your messy 'just-been-fucked' hair.

Jeremy has already taken that in, as well as the multiple hickeys going from your neck to your collar to your inner breasts.

"It's alright," he says, patting your knee in a familiar fashion. "Happens to the best of us. Course, sometimes we really want it to happen to us I suppose."

Your breath hitches as his hand lands on your skin, but the sight of your messy face somehow obscures the fact that a stranger has put his hands on your bare skin without your consent.

"Of course, sometimes we want the party to keep going into the day," Jeremy continues, taking your lack of objection as consent as his hand slowly moves up your long bare thigh.

Eyes still on your reflection you dig into your purse for some towellettes made for removing make-up, and swiftly scrub at your skin to remove the stains of the previous night.

Jeremy eyes your shirt and it's message. It started life as a religious hand-out, with a cross up top followed by the two lines 'Raise me up' ''O Lord Jesus'. Not being a religious sort, but adoring the softness of the material, you're cropped out the second line and the cross.

Taking the words as an invitation Jeremy reaches under your top, one meaty hand closing upon your sore little tit, drawing a gasp and an incredulous look downward.

"I like the logo on your shirt," Jeremy says casually, and you instinctively look down, reading 'Raise Me Up' on the soft fabric.

"S... stop..." you order, or gasp, spoiling it by adding, "Someone will notice."

"You're right. Silly me," he says, and to your relief he withdraws the hand from your thigh, dragging it up you inner length, pulling it off just shy of your swollen lips. You would sigh in relief but that hand then drapes around your shoulder and down into what was once the neckline of your shirt to cup the other breast.

"That's not what I meant!" you hiss.

"You go to the same college as I do," he notes casually, his fingers trodding across bruises and hickeys and scrapes from the night before that make you gasp. "I've seen you around, prancing about in your short skirts and tight tops. You don't have much time to finish your make-up and hair if you're going to."

"Cut it... out," you gasp as his hands continue to **** you. Overly sensitive from last night's attention you squeezing hands elicit groans that sound like pleasure, but are perhaps half pain as well.

"Looks like you're into a rough bang," Jeremy says, lifting the shirt enough for one breast to peak out.

"I tell you what," he says, lifting his hands as you glare at him. "You can either make a fuss, saying I'm molesting you and see if they believe an obviously just-been-fucked tramp, you can let me keep fondling those titties the way you like, or if you really don't want to be touched I'll take a sharpie marker and leave a little note on your stomach. Course, you could always just jerk me off to make me leave you alone, but then you won't get your make-up and hair done. Your choice."