It was weird: I was feeling a little depressed in the moment, even though an hour earlier thinking of doing anything sexually with this young guy was about the furthest thing from my mind.We continued to chat. About 10 minutes into the ride he asked me whether I was married. I told him “no” and asked about his status. He told me he was unattached, too. We drove along in silence for a few more minutes until I felt his hand rest on the top of my right thigh. It startled me a little, but I made no move to avoid his touch or push his hand away. We kept driving like that for a minute that felt like an hour. The air in the car seemed thick and the anticipation was palpable. I could feel it. And I knew he could feel it.When I didn’t say anything or move his hand, he inched it closer to my crotch. In response, I shifted slightly in the driver’s seat to give him better access. That was all the motivation he needed. His hand was very quickly now on top of the bulge that was forming in my jeans and he was rubbing my package through the denim. It felt nice. It felt a
