Her fragrance was difficult to ignore
It wasn't any perfume 
It was the scent of her sweat

We were in a bus
I was sitting behind her
I couldn't see her face
But her sweaty presence ignited my senses

She was dozing 
And when she dozed backwards for a few minutes 
I sneaked towards her to inhale her

 
My hands strayed towards my trousers 
And I caressed my member in the blanket of darkness 

As the bus jerked to the final stop
She woke up and left
Covering my soiled trousers with my bag
I felt alive

Sweat fetish, they term
For me, liberating...
©LR