The most wonderful things happen when you least expect them.
I was only 72 miles into my cross-country trip from D.C. to Seattle when this "situation" began. The more than half-empty Greyhound bus made a dinner stop in Hagerstown, and I also knew we would probably pick up some more west-bound passengers there. Dinner for me consisted of a salad because a late lunch at my office at the Department of Justice was still very much with me.
We did. Pick up some more passengers, that is. That's when she got on. She could have been 20, and she could have been 30. Her kind of beauty hid her actual age very well. It always would, even when she applied for membership in A.A.R.P. She was an extremely attractive brunette, slender, and with legs to die for. I knew that because of the short skirt she was wearing. A loose fitting blouse with a deeply scooped neckline prevented me from checking out her other assets, but that was alright, too. Imagination is often better than reality, especially in situations involving a comely lass such as her.
I had already made it back to my seat on the left side of the bus after dinner as she started down the bus' isle. And, I was secretly hoping she would sit down in the vacant seat beside me. But she walked on past me, and headed towards the rear of the bus. But I was secretly elated when, less than 30 seconds later, she returned and sat down in the seat next to me. I looked at her and smiled, ready to offer my name as an introduction. But she stared straight ahead, not glancing in my direction at all. Obviously she wanted to keep to herself, which sort of puzzled me since there were lots of rows on both sides of the bus where both seats were still empty. Why had she selected the one next to me?
We continued on the trip a few minutes later, the bus offering a slowly rocking, soft ride that I had come to appreciate over the past three years. It was my habit to select a distant city as my vacation destination, and then head that way with lots of stops along the way. Visiting some of the small towns that made up the real America was fun, and I always met interesting people wherever I managed to go. And not a few pretty women, either.
Anyway, we were fifty or so miles down the road when the incident began. I was reading the latest edition of Outdoor Life when I felt the slightest pressure against the skin of my right leg (It was warm, and I was wearing shorts). I glanced down and saw her leg touching mine. But I paid no real attention, especially since she appeared to be engrossed in a book and sitting comfortably, slightly turned towards me in her seat.
A few minutes later I felt her leg slide up and down slightly against mine. The movement was small, but it was there. And, no doubt due to my overactive imagination, it almost felt sensual. But hey, that was impossible. She was still reading, and I didn't honestly think she had glanced at me since we left Hagerstown.
Using the pretext of turning on the overhead reading light to off-set the rapidly approaching night, I did my own up and down stroke against her leg. I could not get over its apparent softness. And the warmth she emitted was beginning to get to me. I felt the familiar stirring in my loins as my manhood began to react.
The feel of her soft skin against my leg felt good. Was she aware that she was touching me? I doubted it, but decided to either push my luck or end her rudeness. I ever-so-slightly increased my own leg pressure against her's while keeping my eyes glued to the article on summer bass fishing I was no longer interested in. It was as subtle a movement as I was capable of, but it was also noticeable. I was elated when her leg remained pressed against mine.
This called for more investigation on my part. After all, I was now certain her actions were intensional. I had to find out the "why" of this situation. So I put down the magazine, made an exaggerated stretch of my arms as I turned off the reading light, laid my head back on the rest while turning my neck in her direction, closed my eyes, and put my hands on my thighs. My right hand was now less than a quarter inch from her thigh. I imagined I could even feel a little heat on my finger, obviously radiating from her exposed skin. Then I adjusted myself, hoping to appear like a guy getting ready to take a nap.
A couple minutes later, I made my move. I shifted my hand, and my little finger was now pressing lightly against her bare skin at mid-thigh. Her leg stayed where it was, still pressed closely against mine. Then I felt her move it again up and down ever so gently, rubbing against my leg and arm, and causing the beginning of some serious activity in my groin.
There was only one thing for me to do get bolder! So I gently moved my little finger out and back several times, stroking her middle-thigh softly in the process. She didn't react. So I moved my entire hand onto her thigh and held it still, opening my eyes and glancing at her at the same time. Still no reaction on her part, not even a shifting of her eyes away from her book to look at what I was doing.
I moved my hand over to allow it to slide down between her legs. Then I began to rub the soft, creamy flesh I found there. I was being blatant now, rubbing her inner thigh and staring at her intently. There was no reaction on her part, at least none I could observe.
I was sporting a raging erection by now, and my imagination was running wild. I began stroking her leg along its length, moving slightly under the hem of her skirt on my upward stroke. She didn't bat an eye! She didn't flinch, or even stir noticeably.
What was her game? Why was she letting a total stranger fondle her inner thigh as I was still doing to her? And most importantly, just how far would she let me go??? Only one way to answer that one.
So I moved my hand up her leg a little more with each of my soft strokes. I kept going even when my little finger felt the intense heat of her womanhood. I touched her panties over her pussy on my next stroke, and I stopped my hand there. No reaction. I rubbed her womanhood over her panties with several strokes of my little finger, and thought I saw her catch her breath.