I Ended Up In A Midnight Bus

“Ngh... Stop touching me like that...”

I found myself squeezed against a burly man during a trip.

Being naturally sensitive, his touch was overwhelmingly stimulating. I could not help but tremble and pant beside him.

However, I never expected that halfway through the journey, he would eagerly lift me onto his lap.

“The seat’s so hard. Your butt must be sore. Let me give you a proper massage!”

By the end of the trip, he had taken everything from me...

My name is Grace Ashton, and I am a dance instructor.

Having studied ballet since childhood, my body was more flexible and sensitive than most women’s.

That was why I barely interacted with male classmates at school and always wore dull, heavy clothes. Even the slightest physical contact would send waves of heat through my body and stir my desires.

This hypersensitivity made me too afraid to date. I was terrified that my potential boyfriend would think I was loose.

However, after suppressing myself for so long, I grew utterly exhausted and decided to travel to relax.

I picked out a breezy, sultry miniskirt, as I looked forward to my trip.

Unexpectedly, I was starting the trip in a long-distance bus packed with men.

They stared at me in silence. Their gazes lingered unabashedly on my half-exposed chest and slender bare legs. The intensity of their stares felt almost tangible, almost like their eyes were touching my skin and stripping me naked before them.

My instinct was to get off the bus, but I could not bear giving up on my vacation. So, I steeled myself and found my seat.

It was next to a burly man.

He eagerly made room for me. But once I got seated, I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles.

It was so cramped that I was practically pressed against him. My bare legs would brush against his trouser leg at the slightest movement. If he raised his arm, he could easily pull my entire body into his arms.

Every time the carriage swayed, my soft body would brush against his arm.

I curled up and felt like crying as I prayed that I would not be so sensitive.

The man knew nothing of my discomfort and enthusiastically struck up a conversation. I learned that his name was Wyatt Crute and he was a construction worker.

We were headed to the same destination. This meant that I would spend the entire day and night’s journey with him.

Wyatt saw me huddled up as I desperately kept my distance from him. “Don’t worry... I may be a rough guy, but I’d never make a pass at you... There’s no need to be so anxious...” he assured me.

His words made me blush with embarrassment. I was not afraid that he would harass me.

It was because my body was so uniquely sensitive, especially around a ruggedly masculine man like him.

If we accidentally made physical contact, my reaction would be intense.

If he