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The bi-fold doors of the bus were already unfolding and sliding closed when she deftly slipped in-between the rubbery lips of the moving panels. Joanne had just made the last express bus. The bus was congested and all the seats were taken. She'd had a long day, her legs were tired, but at least the express travelled quickly and her stop wasn't far - hopefully there were no breakdowns, accidents or other interruptions to the flow of traffic.
Joanne was finding her first full-time job to be hard going. She wasn't used to being on the go all day, five days a week; plus she had to try to impress all the others in the office and seek their approval, which she didn't mind too much. The hours were long though, longer than the school hours to which she was used to and she ended each day physically and mentally drained. She guessed that she would adapt quickly to her new way life, like all the other people had adapted.
Joanne had just turned eighteen and finished school, she missed the simple-minded organisation of school: the timetable that told her where to go, who she should see, when to eat, when to play and what she should do every period of the school day. She enjoyed having her day organised by others. She was finding her time at work was a little less structured by her boss than Joanne would have liked. That's what made everything so exhausting. She had multiple tasks to complete, but, it required her to organise her own time to accomplish them.
She was tired and the evening was still warm even though the end of summer was in the air. She stood and swayed in the bus as it started and stopped in the traffic. She was wearing shoes with small heels, thank god, that made it easier, and a light dress that fitted close to her body.
The bus arrived at the Cultural Centre stop and a crowd of people crammed in through both sets of doors. Joanne was like a sardine in a tin, surrounded by other people, all pressing in on her from every direction, all keen to get home on the last express bus for this route and relax after a hard day's work. After the Cultural Centre, the bus would make its way on to the Busway and move quickly. It wouldn't be long before she would be able to disembark and walk home.
The bus pulled out from the stop and began to roll smoothly. Joanne wasn't sure if she was imagining it at first, but she swore that she could feel a hand on her bottom. Of course in a press of people like this, such things could happen quite innocently, but Joanne felt the hand was moving around her bum, like it was more deliberate than accidental. Joanne thought that the hand's owner must be behind her. She discreetly tried to look around and identify the culprit, but she saw only the passive faces of a couple of women, an older man and two middle-aged guys, all looked tired and bored, all looked like they couldn't wait to be home. While she checked the other people out, the groping hand continued to her hip and then worked its way downwards and began to feel her bum and the crack between her cheeks. Joanne was locked in place; she was unable to move away due to the press of people.
The bus cruised smoothly along the Busway as the mystery hand cruised smoothly over Joanne's young firm arse and upper thighs. No-one seemed to notice or care what was happening to her. Joanne didn't know whether to scream or make a fuss, she didn't like doing things like that, though, she didn't like drawing attention to herself, so she decided that this was just a one-off event to be endured and then it would be over. The next stop was approaching fast now.
The bus soon made the stop and a large number of people descended to the platform. The groping ceased; no harm had really been done. All of Joanne's 'suspects' descended as well. None gave her a second look. She had no idea whom it could have been. It was a mystery that diverted her from her workday worries and it kind of gave her something interesting to think about and fantasise as to whom may have been responsible. Did they find her especially attractive? Did they just do that to anyone they could lay their hands on? Joanne was pretty, she had a slight build, she liked to swim and cycle. She had honey-blonde hair to her shoulders and dark blue eyes. It was kind of flattering to her to think that a 'mystery molester' had chosen her.
The next stop was Joanne's and she descended and quietly made her way home without any fuss. She prepared a quick salad for dinner, showered and was soon in bed reading. Her mind quickly began to wander onto thoughts about her bus-ride home. She had begun to think about sex a lot more since she had turned eighteen and she allowed the two ideas of molestation and fucking to meld in her mind. She imagined how kinky it would be if one of the women 'suspects' was her assailant. She wondered if either or both of them looked like a lesbian, whatever it is lesbians are supposed to look like these days. She imagined what lesbians might do to her and by 'chance', she found some lesbian porn on the interweb to guide her imagination. She was drawn to 'first time' videos, where older women seduced younger virginal ladies. Some of the videos were quite titillating and she unconsciously slipped out of her pyjamas and was soon masturbating while she watched an older dark haired woman finger and lick her friend's daughter's clit. How Joanne wished she was that daughter! Joanne and the friend's daughter were both soon cumming and the tremors through Joanne's body made her moan and writhe so much that she dropped her uPad on the bed beside her.
Joanne enjoyed the little calm that always ensued after a good cum, but she soon found herself imagining that it was probably the older man's hands that were feeling her bottom on the bus. She let her own hand feel her arse just as her mystery assailant had. It was quite nice, actually, feeling her smooth bum, the crack, her thighs, even the little dimple of her arsehole. She saw his calm, passive face swim before her in her imagination, smiling as he groped her young firm butt.
