I just wanted to wander through old trams, soak in their rusted charm and history. My boyfriend was doing his usual thing — taking pictures, lost in his own world. And then he walked in. Silent. Intense.No questions, just demands. “Want to see a real tram?” he asked. “Mine.” I followed without thinking. The second the doors closed, his hands were on me, pulling me against cold metal. I didn’t care. I didn’t want to care. All I knew was the heat rising inside me as I forgot everything—my boyfriend, my morals, even my own name. The ride didn’t stop there. It continued at his place, where I gave myself up completely. No shame, no hesitation. Just the raw, burning pleasure of it all. And for once? It felt fucking perfect.

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