a bit of light erotica
...so if that's not your style, don't bother. And, yes, I admit that the man gets far more pleasure in this than the woman... I wrote this up about a month ago, after having it as a recurring fantasy for a couple of weeks, not that that explains anything.
You saunter onto the bus and sashay down the aisle, sitting down next to me twice as much closer than you need to- once for that there are many empty seats with no one sitting in them, and twice by sitting down with your thigh right next to mine, almost violently so, so that there is a quiet shriek from the fabric of your skirt rubbing against my trousers.
You take my right hand and lift my arm, arranging it across your shoulders, and place my hand firmly upon your breast. Your blouse is silk, and there is no bra under it; I feel your nipple stiffen, as if trying to punch a hole through the fabric and into the skin of my palm.
You smile, gently squeeze my hand around your breast, and raise your near leg and rest it across mine. You lean toward me and cup my face in your hand; this removes my hand from your breast, but that's alright, because you kiss me, soft at first, lips open, then harder, crushing your lips against mine, tongue flicking in and out of my mouth.
You take my hand and place it on your knee, guide it up your thigh, up under your skirt. I learn that you are not wearing panties; I stroke your pubic hair, loving the roughness of it against my fingers. I run my middle finger along the cleft of your labia; you gasp, and I push harder, find your clitoris with my thumb, and rub it, gentle but firm. You tremble; my middle finger finds the entrance to your vagina, and you jerk your hips forward, trying to engulf me. I slip my finger in, and you moan as I work it in and out.
Your hand goes to my lap, and your eyes widen as you grasp my penis through the fabric. You undo my zipper and slip your hand inside and grasp my penis. It doesn't seem like it would be possible, but your eyes widen even more. "I have to see," you murmur, and you pull my penis out into the open air. "Oh, how pretty," you coo, and bend forward and take me in your mouth. It is hot and wet and soft- there must be teeth in there somewhere, but all I feel is soft hot wetness.
I can hardly believe that this is happening, that you're going down on me on a public bus. But nobody else seems to notice- occasionally someone glances our way, but their gaze slides off, uninterested; no one shouts, no one is shocked, no one calls out the alarm.
Still, the feeling that we are being watched provides a certain extra thrill to the feeling of your lips moving up and down the shaft of my penis, your mouth, your throat, taking me in, exciting me further as your head bobs up and down.
When I come, it's like a bolt of lightning rising from the base of my spine. I want it to last forever, and in a way, it does. How could I ever forget?
You lick my penis clean and put it away inside my pants again, zip me up carefully, and pat my waning erection gently where it lies under the cloth. You kiss me again, and I taste my salt, my sticky, on your tongue, and it excites me all over again, but you reach up past me and pull the cord, and a moment later the bus stops at my normal stop, where I get off. "Thank you," you say, with a bit of a chuckle, "that was wonderful." You stand to let me get out to the aisle, and i go to the door and step out onto the sidewalk and stand there, watching the bus pull away.
I head for home, about 6 blocks, in a bit of a hurry, because of course now I really need to take a piss- but I stop about halfway and turn and take a look back in the direction of the intersection, in the direction, if I could see it from here, of the bus stop. It has just hit me, like a brick, or a sledgehammer, that I've never met you before, never seen you before- I don't even know your name.
You saunter onto the bus and sashay down the aisle, sitting down next to me twice as much closer than you need to- once for that there are many empty seats with no one sitting in them, and twice by sitting down with your thigh right next to mine, almost violently so, so that there is a quiet shriek from the fabric of your skirt rubbing against my trousers.
You take my right hand and lift my arm, arranging it across your shoulders, and place my hand firmly upon your breast. Your blouse is silk, and there is no bra under it; I feel your nipple stiffen, as if trying to punch a hole through the fabric and into the skin of my palm.
You smile, gently squeeze my hand around your breast, and raise your near leg and rest it across mine. You lean toward me and cup my face in your hand; this removes my hand from your breast, but that's alright, because you kiss me, soft at first, lips open, then harder, crushing your lips against mine, tongue flicking in and out of my mouth.
You take my hand and place it on your knee, guide it up your thigh, up under your skirt. I learn that you are not wearing panties; I stroke your pubic hair, loving the roughness of it against my fingers. I run my middle finger along the cleft of your labia; you gasp, and I push harder, find your clitoris with my thumb, and rub it, gentle but firm. You tremble; my middle finger finds the entrance to your vagina, and you jerk your hips forward, trying to engulf me. I slip my finger in, and you moan as I work it in and out.
Your hand goes to my lap, and your eyes widen as you grasp my penis through the fabric. You undo my zipper and slip your hand inside and grasp my penis. It doesn't seem like it would be possible, but your eyes widen even more. "I have to see," you murmur, and you pull my penis out into the open air. "Oh, how pretty," you coo, and bend forward and take me in your mouth. It is hot and wet and soft- there must be teeth in there somewhere, but all I feel is soft hot wetness.
I can hardly believe that this is happening, that you're going down on me on a public bus. But nobody else seems to notice- occasionally someone glances our way, but their gaze slides off, uninterested; no one shouts, no one is shocked, no one calls out the alarm.
Still, the feeling that we are being watched provides a certain extra thrill to the feeling of your lips moving up and down the shaft of my penis, your mouth, your throat, taking me in, exciting me further as your head bobs up and down.
When I come, it's like a bolt of lightning rising from the base of my spine. I want it to last forever, and in a way, it does. How could I ever forget?
You lick my penis clean and put it away inside my pants again, zip me up carefully, and pat my waning erection gently where it lies under the cloth. You kiss me again, and I taste my salt, my sticky, on your tongue, and it excites me all over again, but you reach up past me and pull the cord, and a moment later the bus stops at my normal stop, where I get off. "Thank you," you say, with a bit of a chuckle, "that was wonderful." You stand to let me get out to the aisle, and i go to the door and step out onto the sidewalk and stand there, watching the bus pull away.
I head for home, about 6 blocks, in a bit of a hurry, because of course now I really need to take a piss- but I stop about halfway and turn and take a look back in the direction of the intersection, in the direction, if I could see it from here, of the bus stop. It has just hit me, like a brick, or a sledgehammer, that I've never met you before, never seen you before- I don't even know your name.