Author's note: This came about as a long-forgotten response to a roleplay prompt on r/dirtypenpals. The person who had posted the prompt was rightfully put off by my 500-word reply -- including multiple instances where I stole the agency of their original character. If you are new to the world of online roleplays, erotic or otherwise, that is a SERIOUS offence. Learn from my mistakes.
I found the draft in my online vault about two years later, and decided I was going to build a story from it -- this time as a solo effort. I found the perfect muse (thanks @evemmld), and hence this story was penned. Please note that this work of fiction is not condoning nor condemning the use of Testosterone Replacement Therapy. People who opt for the treatment may do so out of reasons other than those elaborated in the story, and may see results which are, again, other than those elaborated in the story.
Have fun! I'll see you in the comments 😊
5:22 PM
Like clockwork, Coral got on the shuttle, along with a couple of her colleagues. The people from her work she took the bus with usually varied. Nobody took the bus these days. The routes were all bunched up near the financial district and spread out as they went towards the suburbs. If you were going home from the city, chances were that taking a bus was just one of the multiple modes of transport you had to hop between -- and when you did arrive at your stop, you'd likely still need to walk a half mile or more to your destination. Coral had told Terry that she was one of the lucky ones who could ride the same bus from her workplace to home, without much walking involved.
She'd told him this last evening. She was seated on his lap, and his fingers were stroking her thigh under the hem of her skirt.
A month ago, Terry had switched to taking the bus after he crashed his Mercedes. He had driven it into the side of one of the board members' Bentley - parked in the underground lot, and fortunately with no one inside it at the time - after they'd informed him that they were going to shut his division down. Terry wasn't usually a violent man. He was 53, a company VP with a condo on the coast, and up until the last quarter didn't have many frustrations to deal with. He'd also recently started taking Testosterone Replacement Therapy injections, after struggling through a decade of hair loss, a widening mid-section, depleted sex drive and more recently, trouble focusing at work.
The results had been nothing short of miraculous. While he couldn't grow his hair back, with the diet and exercise routine his doctor put him on, he had been able to go back to a shirt size that resembled the one he had back in college. His efficiency at work had also received a boost, much to the relief of his secretary who had had to cover for Terry's mistakes at work, in the past. Terry's activity in the bedroom had also picked up. His wife had almost forgotten about his
aggression
under the sheets when they had first started dating. All those memories came quickly flooding back.
For a while, the gym and the bedroom kept Terry's newfound energy contained. But then it began to leak out. Terry had taken a little too well to the therapy. He saw himself as a new man. A much younger, energetic, hot-headed man. While he had done steroids back in college -- back when they were all the rage -- TRT was nowhere close to them as far as their effects - and side effects - were concerned. Still, "
roid-rage
" stemming from TRT was the only excuse he could make as far as deliberately crashing his car went, and how he'd started down a very dangerous path with Coral.
Having sent the car off for repairs, Terry's wife had begun dropping him off to work in the mornings. In the evening, he took the bus back. It wasn't his first choice, but taking taxis back home around clock-out time without getting ripped off was near-impossible, and the metro always had at least half a dozen people from the surrounding office floors in each compartment, who would recognise him in an instant. His secretary had come up with a simple solution: take the bus, where people from the lower floors were far less likely to know who Terry was. And surprisingly enough, there was less crowding in the bus than in the metro. So, Terry had capitulated.
Of course, he didn't catch it from the same stop as everyone else in his building. He walked to the preceding stop, two blocks and a corner away, and got on. He didn't want the other VPs to see him, and he figured the walk was good exercise anyway. About a fortnight into Terry slumming it with the analysts from the lower floors -- while the garage took annoyingly long to repair his near-totaled car -- he got involved in another incident.
Coral had come into the bus feeling rather unwell, and had been standing next to his seat. Of course, back then he hadn't known her name. He hadn't even given her a second look after leering at her tits for a couple of seconds. Then, just as they were about to exit the financial district limits, the bus had jerked to a stop at an intersection. Coral had fallen into his lap sideways, ass first, near fainting.
"You okay?" he'd asked after a few moments. She hadn't gotten up even when the bus had started going again. She didn't look alright.
"You need some water?"
She had nodded. He unscrewed the top off his water bottle and put it to her lips. She kept sipping from it over the next ten minutes as she regained her strength. When she finally got off his lap, he was kind of disappointed. Her ass was perky, her legs firm. As she had sipped from the bottle he had gotten a peek at her bra through a small flare in her dress blouse between the buttons. After getting up she had thanked him. Terry got up and offered her his seat. She had initially been hesitant but gave in.
Over the remainder of his ride he had stood next to her and made small talk. He got her name. She worked at his company, albeit in a different division. She'd had to skip lunch that day for a meeting, and the afternoon heat had gotten to her by the time she got on the bus. That was all Terry got from her that day before arriving at his stop. That night, as he took his wife from behind -- something they hadn't done for almost a decade -- he thought about Coral and her legs in that figure-hugging skirt of hers. His wife's legs in comparison were flabby. The skin on her lower back and ass was fringed with stretch marks and cellulite. Terry climaxed quicker than usual, surprising himself more than he did his wife.
The next day on the bus, he'd been sitting in the same spot. When Coral got on the bus, she'd smiled at him. He waved her over. She stood next to him as they chatted. Terry inquired about her health. Coral had replied saying she felt much better.
"I'd offer you to sit by me but..." Terry motioned to the guy next to him, who was lying asleep, arms crossed and his head against the windowpane. The guy was usually asleep or nodding off. On his first day taking the bus, Terry had made a beeline for the seat next to him just so that he wouldn't have to make conversation with anyone.
"No you're alright! Thanks." She'd said, smiling. The bus had been more crowded than usual, and within the next ten stops had filled almost to capacity. Coral had stood wedged between three other passengers, all of them at least twice the size of her lean frame. Terry hadn't been in such crowds for a very long time, and felt rather alarmed. It didn't help that Coral's hip kept bumping into his shoulder. Before TRT, he'd have silently simmered away at the invasion of his personal space until he got to his stop, and taken his frustrations out by yelling at his dog that night. Therefore, he was surprised at his own boldness when he jokingly asked her if she wanted to sit in his lap like the day before.
And completely taken aback when Coral smiled and settled in his lap.
Almost immediately, he'd felt a tightness in his shorts. Nothing happened between Terry and Coral that evening on the bus. Their fellow passengers had turned their heads for a second when Coral had sat down on him, but went back to their phones. When the bus got to his stop, Terry excused himself. Coral flashed him a grin and got up. Her tight skirt framed her pert ass a little too snugly, and as she scooted past his face he could see the panty-line. That weekend, Terry bought his wife four pairs of silk panties in the same style. She looked great in them, filling them out nicely. After they had fucked for the third time that Sunday afternoon, Terry had sat next to her on their bed as she napped. There was something missing.
Over the next week Coral had ridden the bus home on Terry's lap twice more on days that the crowd got a bit too thick. They would chat, usually about work. She'd sit sideways on his lap, her legs in the aisle, and turned her head towards him to converse. It was never the conversation that Terry was interested in. Whenever she turned the other way to look out the window, he'd leer at Coral's chest. Her blouses, he could tell, came off an assembly line and didn't fit her too well. They were either too tight or too loose around her breasts, so Terry could either see her bra through the semi-sheer fabric, or under the flared fabric between the buttons.
As shabby as her outerwear was, Terry could tell that Coral took much better care with her essentials. All her bras encased and lifted her tits really well, and if she ever were to ever leave just the top button on her blouse open, her generous cleavage would come in full view. As for panties, Terry could tell they were usually tanga or thong types -- definitely not the kind that would pass HR scrutiny if scrutinising women's underwear ever came under their purview. Occasionally she'd wear nylons. Terry couldn't tell if they were stockings, tights or pantyhose, and frankly he couldn't care less. They looked great on her legs, especially the darker ones.
The following weekend Terry took his wife shopping, again. She was surprised and delighted that her husband of twenty years was showering her with so much attention all of a sudden. He bought her more pairs of luxurious lingerie, and to her surprise, rather cheap off-the-shelf blouses and skirts. After they'd got back home, he had asked her to wear them and sit on his lap. Terry groped her through the blouse and slid his hands under her skirt to rub her mound through the panties. When he had tired of this, he'd torn open the blouse, pulled up her skirt and bent her over one of the dining chairs.
Her tits pressed up against the glass top as he swept her panties to the side and entered her. He fucked her with a vigour she remembered from when they were dating. Their passion had fallen by the wayside, and she'd let herself go a bit, especially since having their children. The skin on her back rippled and Terry grabbed the rolls around her middle as he railed her, grunting like a starved animal. When he was close, he pulled her off the table and had her suck him off till he exploded inside her mouth. Terry's sagging balls contracted as he pumped his jism inside his wife's throat. He hadn't even bothered to take his slacks off.
The next week, Coral rode on Terry's lap almost every evening. It became the highlight of his day, feeling her toned ass pressed up on his thighs for the duration of the forty minutes they spent together on the bus. Initially, Coral had preferred to rest her weight up on his thighs, near the knees, but as the days passed, she got more and more comfortable around him, placing her hip snug with Terry's crotch. He would almost always get hard, sometimes even as soon as he sat down on his usual seat, in anticipation of the hot young woman pressing her flesh against his. He tried adjusting his member inside his boxers to point downwards. He even wore thicker underwear, but something happened on Thursday that compelled him to throw all caution to the wind.
As usual, Coral took her throne on his thighs and the bus started moving. If the other passengers ever noticed, they probably though Coral was Terry's favourite niece, the way the two were getting along with each other. About ten minutes into the ride, the driver slammed on the brakes and honked loudly. The bus jerked to a sudden and violent stop. There was a resulting cacophony inside, from the passengers. People shouted and swore. The driver must have yelled. Terry and Coral, however, hadn't noticed the commotion.
Terry was mortified. As the brakes had come on, Coral had started to fall forward. In an attempt to break Coral's fall against the seat in front, he had swung his arm between the seatback and her body. When they could finally gather their wits, Terry found his hand planted squarely on the side of her breast. But that wasn't the worst part.
His other hand was inside her skirt.
It had slipped under the hem and grabbed the thigh closest to him to prevent her from toppling over. He had succeeded. The palm of his hand rested on Coral's bare inner thigh. His fingers lay splayed over the soft rose-white flesh, scandalously close to her crotch. All he could do for the next few moments was stare at Coral's shocked face, even as his cock started stiffening in his trousers. His muscles finally enervated, and he pulled both his hands away from her body. He started to remonstrate.
"I'm so sor-"
The driver was pissed. The bus was already running late, and he couldn't deal with assholes on the road delaying him further. He stomped the accelerator and the bus jolted back into motion. Before Terry could finish apologizing, Coral's body swung the opposite way, and now she lay with her side pressed up against Terry's chest. Her hair blanketed his face. Her nose rested in the crook of his neck. And her hand lay pressed between her hip and his groin. Right on top of his semi-hard cock.
Coral righted herself and flashed him a grin.
