Two years into my marriage, an exhausting job, a husband who refuses to help at home, and a sexless relationship have pushed my stress to its limit. One night, I fall asleep on the last train and wake after being molested. Warm semen remains in my hand, but lust overwhelms my disgust, and I masturbate while smelling it. Days later, I encounter the same molester. This time anticipation outweighs fear, and I offer less and less resistance as his hand creeps toward me...