Finally Ch 02 3

That he was walking away from her, that she had just masturbated to orgasm in a public bus, that her finger was still idly slipping back and forth across her clit, sending sweet shooting spasms through her nipples each time her finger slipped from one side to the other of her love button, was all muted in her mind behind the thought that

finally

she'd achieved the release that had been building in her body all day. Not that it was enough, not by a long shot.

I'd have fucked him right here if he'd just waited, just sat down beside me. I could have pulled him out and sat on his lap and...

Her mind had begun to return to the present, to reality, despite her wanton thoughts, and she suddenly realized that she

was

sitting in a bus, her finger resting on her clit with her dress around her waist. Her head snapped up, her eyes clearing even as her face flushed red from embarrassment, mimicking the orgasmic glow on her chest and the exposed vee of her breasts. The little old woman was still sitting obliviously in the sideways seat at the front of the bus, but the bus driver's eyes were flicking back and forth from the windshield to the rearview mirror, momentarily locking onto her each time they did.

She almost jerked her hand away from its soft caress of her clit, but understood that any sudden movement at this time would only accentuate to the driver the naughty state he suspected she was currently in. Glancing down beside herself, she moved her hands from her lap and opened her purse, removing a compact to flip it open, examining the bus behind her while pretending to check her makeup, and momentarily hiding her face from the driver. The bus was still empty; no one had gotten on at the last stop. Now in full pretend mode, whether the bus driver had caught on to what happened or not, she didn't intend to confirm it for him with anything else. Turning to put the compact away, she raised her bottom and smoothed the dress back into place, making herself decent to anyone that might board at the next stops. They always did; the last three stops before she got off were always good for ten to fifteen passengers. All she had to do was surreptitiously grab her panties and get them out of sight, and if she had a chance, put them back on.

Glancing back to the seat on her other side, the only thing in sight was the plain white card with a phone number and "Steve" written on it. Her heart rate increased as she realized her panties must have fallen to the floor, or worse yet, he'd left them on the seat behind her. Leaning forward to survey the floor she saw nothing, and glancing over her shoulder revealed nothing either.

Where the fuck are they?

Her twisting in the seat had caught the bus driver's attention again. She dared not get down on her hands and knees with his eyes seeking her out every five seconds. The heat of embarrassment increased momentarily in her face until she physically calmed herself by acknowledging she could stand up and exit at the rear door, she didn't have to exit by the driver.

Seeing the card on the seat beside her, she pulled out her phone and dialed the previously unknown number. It rang twice before it was answered.

"Lynn?" His voice was a solid baritone; she recognized it immediately as the one that had whispered in her ear just moments before. Her voice caught in her throat, the heat from her chest and face instantly dropping between her thighs again. What was it about him? All he did was say her name and she was ready to drop to her knees and take his dick from his pants and impale it in her mouth.

The truth was she'd been dreaming about doing exactly that for weeks. They'd been e-mailing back and forth, flirting, teasing, and using sexual innuendos to start with. Every e-mail intensified the one before, every e-mail answer came quicker than the one before. At first she'd found herself checking in the morning and evenings on the bus using her iPhone. Later she'd gotten to checking for e-mails from him whenever she could -- at work on the company computer, at home on the family computer, and of course on her daily bus trips. They'd discussed everything sexual, and half the world's problems, solving none but finding themselves in agreement so many times more than not.

The innuendo changed over time as they'd gotten used to each other; hints of self-satisfaction turned into outright admission of masturbation. He'd commented to her that most of the time he swam naked in his home pool, and she'd told him that she'd

really

liked to have seen that. Two days later he'd sent her a photo. It was a shot of him, beside the pool, walking away from the camera. It hadn't really shown anything except his naked butt and that he was as self-described, but that didn't keep her from using it to reinforce her fantasy nor did it keep her from dreaming about what the other side of him looked like.

It didn't take long before that happened either. She'd responded that he wasn't being fair, only sharing half the story, and a couple of days later he sent her another picture. Same location, facing the other direction, but the same gloriously naked body. She'd teased him about that, not because she didn't like what she saw -- she did -- but she had just teased because they teased about everything. Earlier she'd told him that she really liked the thought of a man who shaved everything, the thought of giving a blowjob without pubic hair to interfere was one of her little fetishes.

What? I figured you would have shaved by now and sent me a picture of a lollipop! LOL

she'd sent in return.

She hadn't thought he would, but a week later; there it was in her mail box. He admitted he'd shot several dozen pictures of his freshly shaven cock and balls, in full, gorgeous, extension, before he'd gotten the pic he'd shared with her. Hugely swollen, veins popping out of the shaft; the head, slightly purplish, had glistened in the light. He admitted to her that he'd oiled his cock head to get it shiny as if it had just come out of her mouth or pussy. She didn't care, she'd creamed her panties at first sight, masturbated feverishly to dreams of what she would like to do to it, and what she'd like it to do to her, and it still gave her an erotic thrill every time she saw it. When she asked, he sent her the other pictures also.

"Steve?" She questioned, just as the bus began slowing toward the next stop. She could see six or more people waiting for the bus.

"I wasn't expecting you so soon. You don't get to your stop for another 5 minutes."

"I can't find my panties" she hissed into the phone. The brakes grunted just a bit as the bus came to a stop, the soft hiss of the doors swinging open as she did, "and people are coming."

"What?" Steve answered, surprise in his voice. "You looked on the seat?"

"Of course."

"Did you look

under

the seat?"

"No. I... I couldn't. The damn bus driver is being nosy, and with my dress..."

"Don't worry about it. If you bend over with your butt in the aisle and your dress hikes up so that sweet little naked tush of yours shows, I'm sure nobody will notice. Or, you could bend over with your butt to the wall so anyone in the aisle will be able to look down your dress between those boobies you've been showing off all day..." Her hand unconsciously went up to her chest to cover the vee of her boobs. Aghast at his flippant response, she was about to snap at him when she realized exactly where they were.

"You've got them, haven't you?" she accused.

"That," he paused, obviously relishing the answer and her agony, "I do."

Damn him,

she thought, another tingle emanating from her crotch. Her eyes jumped to the front of the bus when she heard footsteps begin plodding their way down the aisle. She watched as most stopped in the first few rows, but one man, glancing her way, continued back. She recognized the glance towards her for what it was; he was going to check her out. Without answering Steve's statement on the phone, Lynn again raised her bottom enough to lift her dress back from under her butt, spreading it behind her, once again sitting back on the naked plastic. If she hadn't she knew she'd have left a wet spot on the back of her dress.

"Bastard," she whispered, and hung up.

God, he did it again.

It was as if he was in her mind, as if he knew every wild fantasy she'd ever had and knew how to make them happen. She wanted to be mad at him, but everything he did, everything he said, everything he was, turned her on. She'd never intentionally been in public without panties on. But the realization, all at the same time, that he'd taken her panties, she was going to have to stay naked under her dress, a dress better suited for picking up strangers at a bar than wearing to the office, and some stranger was walking down the bus aisle to check her out, had flooded her pussy with juices.

It rang only once when she called him back, this time with her Bluetooth in place.

"You really are a bastard you know." She didn't even say hello.

"Mmmm. And you love it don't you." She didn't answer. "Lynn? Admit it, you love it don't you?"

"Steve?" She looked around on the street. There was no sign of him.

"Yes?"

She glanced around again. From here to her home was all residential. The closer she got, the more people would recognize her. He had to pick her up soon.

"Where are you?" Her irritation that things weren't going as expected audible in her voice.

"I'm in my hotel room."

"WHAT? "

Her disappointment shook her to her toes. She'd told herself she was

not

going to do this, she'd convinced herself that it really wasn't going to happen, and then -- there he was. And without even thinking about it she'd done exactly what he'd told her to. She'd made herself cum; a sweet, glorious, mind blowing orgasm, and she'd known that she was going to follow him somewhere, that she

wanted

to go with him somewhere, anywhere...

"But I thought... I mean... you said..." she was mystified at what was happening, her disappointment palpable.

"I said what?" His voice prodded gently.

"You said you were going to lick my pussy; that you were going to give me the most fantastic orgasm I've ever had." She looked around, realizing how loudly she'd spoken, but there was no one on the street but her.

"I did? That's what I said?"

His tone told her she was wrong, but she knew what she'd read, dammit. "Then what did you say?" She opened her inbox even as she was speaking. Finding it before he could answer, she responded to her own question. "What you said was 'Tomorrow, before the day is done, I will taste your pussy, we will orgasm at the same time, and you'll say that you've just had the most fantastic orgasm of your life.'"

Steve was silent momentarily, "It's just as sweet as I thought it would be."

Her eyes flicked back over the e-mail, 'I will taste your pussy' suddenly jumping out at her, the realization that what she'd

read

and what he had

written

were two different things. He

had

tasted her pussy, she

did

have an amazing orgasm, but although good, it was a far cry from 'the most fantastic orgasm of her life'. But

he

hadn't cum, had he? His words from the bus suddenly flooded into her mind "Call me and I'll tell you what to do next." Realization, and disappointment, hit her hard.

"I was ready to give myself to you, you know." Silence answered. "I would have done anything."

"I know you would have, Lynn. But you weren't

ready

to give yourself to me. Truthfully, when you left home this morning, were you thinking you were going to meet me to say you couldn't do this, or were you going to say 'take me to bed or lose me forever'?" He waited, she didn't answer. He was right, he'd read her mind as if it was her own. He

always

seemed to know what she was thinking, what she wanted, even before she did.

"You would have given yourself to me, I know you would have, but would you have ever been able to go back home, look your husband in the face without feeling guilty?" He continued, "I can't do that to you, not now, not until you are ready."

He was right, she knew he was, but that didn't stop the ache in her mind, the ache in her pussy. Her orgasm on the bus now seemed just a teaser. Walking panty-less down the street toward her home, talking now for the first time ever to the man that had so thoroughly seized her imagination, a man whose face she had still never seen in person, but whose words could stroke her passion as only a lover can, whose hands had just enflamed her body, whose eyes had watched her pleasure herself; everything that was happening just fanned the desire between her legs. She glanced around again, wanton, still no one to be seen. "I want to fuck you Steve. I've never wanted to fuck someone so bad in my life."

Damn him, how could he have been so close, yet just walk away when she needed him?

He chuckled in response. "Patience, my dear; have patience. It may happen someday, when we're both ready for it." She didn't know what to say, so said nothing. "Did you bring the package?"

"That was from you?" The Fed-ex envelope had arrived at her desk that morning, along with the half a dozen others that normally came every day. The return address had meant nothing. The packing list had said "keep with you until further instructions arrive." That had been really strange, but even stranger had been the contents: a single, opaque, rectangular piece of plastic film. She'd looked at it, and had no idea what it was. Of course she'd thought it might be from Steve, but never having received anything physical from him before, and not knowing what it was, she'd quickly dismissed that idea. She'd actually asked her co-worker if she had any idea what it was -- but she hadn't either. Lynn fumbled in the side pocket of her purse, retrieving the plastic from where she'd put it. "What in the world is it?"

"You haven't any idea?" he asked in response, "You don't know what it looks like?" Holding the plastic in her right hand, her iPhone in the other, it suddenly dawned on her what it

did

look like. Moving the two items together, when she held the plastic to the phone face it practically leapt from her fingers to electrostatically cling to the phone face.

"It covers my phone face," she answered, her voice conveying her puzzlement as well as the realization of what it did. "What's it for?"

"It's so that someone else won't know you're on the phone. The face lights up when you're on the phone; with this, it stays dark."

"But why would I need that?" she asked, still just that little bit behind his plot.

"Because if I know you, like you've led me to believe I know you, you're so horny right now you're either going to go home and break out your toys or attack your husband. And since tonight's the night the girls are away at their activities until 9 or so, that means you and hubby will be home alone. You're going to go home, clean up, and seduce your husband. You're going to be very vocal, describing everything you're doing out loud, only I'm going to be listening to every word, every moan, every orgasm. The whole time you're going to know I'm listening, that I'm sitting here, naked, slowly stroking myself, waiting for you. And when you have that last orgasm, the one to end the night, you're going to say 'Oh God, I'm coming, NOW.' When I hear the word 'now' we'll come together."

Lynn's knees nearly buckled, she stumbled, barely catching herself with a quick half step.

Oh my god -- there is no way I could do that.

The renewed explosion of heat between her legs said otherwise.

Sex had always been a private matter with Lynn, something done in the privacy of one's bedroom, not out in public. She was a horny, slut behind closed doors, but in public she was a demure housewife and businesswoman, and her husband was even more circumspect than she was. He'd often cover her mouth when she came if the girls were in the house, just so they wouldn't hear, although their rooms were well down the hall. He didn't want anyone knowing they were doing what a husband and wife do, particularly the kids. He loved it when she talked dirty to him, she loved it when he talked dirty to her, but he couldn't stand the thought of being overheard, of anyone imagining she was other than the pretty, demure, public housewife she appeared in public.

But, she'd admitted to Steve that she got off the hardest when she knew there was a chance that somebody might catch them in the act; when somebody, anybody, might hear her cum. On those occasions, just the thought that someone might be hearing her, putting it together that she wasn't quite so demure, wasn't quite so proper behind closed doors, and that maybe they might be masturbating hearing her, got her off that much more. There was that time at church camp... and that time late at night in the public showers at the National Park after two weeks without sex, sleeping in a tent with the girls where she'd been so horny she'd had to force herself into the shower stall with him. Steve was offering her the ultimate fantasy, performing for an audience, where she could be as naughty, nasty, sexy and slutty as she wanted; where her husband wouldn't be shushing her and she'd know Steve was getting himself off at the same time.

"Lynn?" Steve's voice brought her back to reality; she realized she'd walked nearly a block since either of them had said anything. Her "public" self, answered.

"There's no way, Steve. We'd never get away with it." Despite her protest, she knew that once again, he'd read her like a book.

Lynn didn't hang up when she got home; her husband wasn't due for half an hour yet. She hadn't even hung up with him when she took a shower, instead putting him on speaker. She'd described to him the sexy little nothing that she was putting on; there would be no doubt in her husband's mind about what she had planned for the evening.

Steve, for his part had continued prodding her over the phone the entire time, encouraging her to light candles, close the blinds, and teasing her mercilessly. By the time she heard her husband's car in the driveway she was more than ready. Carrying her phone with her to the front door she met him as he entered.

"Lynn," he called as he entered the door,"what do you thin - Oh My God!" Lynn was standing just inside the hallway door, where his eyes fell upon her as he stepped into the room. Her already erect nipples protruded from her red négligée, the tiny thong bottom hiding nothing at all. Stepping forward she put her arms around his neck, saying nothing, letting her mouth greet him with a warm, wet, kiss. The telephone remained in her hand the entire time.

"My God, you can greet me like this anytime," Jerry said, his hands writhing down her back to her naked bottom. "What's the occasion?"

Her hands began unbuttoning his shirt, her mouth slathering kisses onto his neck and cheeks. "Nothing," she answered. "I woke up horny this morning and it's been getting worse all day." As her hands finished unbuttoning his shirt she slid them up onto his naked chest even as his hands found her breasts. She moaned as his hands pinched her nipples, hers doing the same to his. She dropped her hands and began fumbling with his belt and zipper. He lifted her into his arms and began walking towards their bedroom.

"What's the phone for?" he asked.

"I was about to call you," she lied, "I need you now."

He stepped into the bedroom carrying her just as she got his belt undone. Setting her down, she turned and put the apparently idle telephone onto the bed stand. Turning back to him with two bare hands she now pulled his pants down, and said, "I want to suck your cock." Dropping to her knees, his already hardening cock sprung out toward her face as she wiggled his pants down to his ankles. Licking her lips first, she slid her slippery wet lips over the head slowly, engulfing him, her tongue swirling around it in her mouth.