I First Saw Her on the Bus

It was February, and there was still a chill in the air. It's not weather conducive to revealing attire. But still. There was something there that tightened my shorts ever so slightly. Maybe it was the way she carried herself? An air of confidence that's irresistibly sexy. It was not so much that she entered my daily thoughts, but she left an impression to be sure, because I recognized her immediately when she again boarded the bus a few weeks later on one of our unseasonably warm days.

This time there was no bulky overcoat to obscure my vision.

She sat down across the aisle from me, facing me. I played it cool. Or tried to anyway. It was sunny enough that my sunglasses weren't out of place, and I could rely on them to shield my ogling. She struck the perfect balance between work appropriate, and work very very inappropriate. Her neatly pressed blouse rode low and tight across her breasts, buttons straining in that way every man knows and loves. Her knees were pressed primly together, obstructing any hint of a view up her conservatively hued, but noticeably short tapered skirt.

I shifted as I felt my penis stir.

It's like she could sense my gaze. Or maybe she could see my eyes behind my sunglasses. Or more likely yet, my slack jaw was a dead giveaway. Whatever the case, she adjusted her necklace, and, I swear, she let her fingertips drift down into her cleavage.

I shifted again.

Maybe it was just my imagination taking over at this point - it has been known to carry me away from time to time - but I could be certain she let her knees drift apart after she let a boarding passenger pass between us. And I know I saw her almost massage her thighs a little, like they might be sore from a workout, which left her skirt riding just that much higher on her thighs.

I wished I had my briefcase with me. No amount of shifting was going to alleviate the pressure from that bulge. The best I could hope for was to hide it.

Then she dropped something. I didn't see what it was. Something small. But when she bent over to pick it up, I got a much better view straight down her blouse. I couldn't see much, but I could tell it was all her. I throbbed. When she sat up, her knees were noticeably apart, her skirt was hiked higher yet, and I could see the lacy fabric of her underwear between her legs when the sun caught it just right. I ached.

Risking discovery, I arched my back, and made like I was retucking my shirt. I needed an adjustment. If I could just tuck myself over this way a lit... She saw. Why else would she run her tongue over her lips like that??

Oh her tongue... Letting my mind's eye take over, I felt it brush the tip of my cock as she trailed a finger over her nipple through her shirt, her other hand tracing the hem of her skirt, working it slowly higher and higher.

The head of my penis swelled.

As if responding to my response, she moved her tongue farther down the shaft of my cock, lips moving onto the head. I thrust my hips slightly; just enough to part her lips and enter her mouth... so warm. So soft.

I felt a little precum start working its way out.

She stood up. Swaying her hips a little, she started to unbutton her blouse to reveal a bra that matched that swatch of fabric I had glimpsed earlier. With her shirt almost off, she turned around, and bent over in front of me, hiking her skirt to show me a round ass filling out the panties I had imagined were under there. I caught a glimpse of a darkened patch, in the crease between her legs, and the slightest whiff of something sweet and sexy.

I circled my thumb and forefinger around the base of my cock, as if to dam the cum back up inside me, with one hand, and reached out feel her with the other. She slapped me away.

She worked the skirt back down over her hips, unzipped it, and stepped out of it. She finished unbuttoning her shirt and reached behind her back to take hold of the bra clasp, letting the bra fall to the floor.

I started gently stroking. I mean, if she wasn't going to let me touch her, at least I could touch myself, right?

With one hand across her breasts, legs spread slightly, back still toward me, she bent over in front of me again, looking back over her shoulder. She moved her hand down between her legs, over her panties, and started rubbing in small circles over that darker crease. She drew in a sharp breath, and the dark spot grew.

I stroked harder.

God, I just wanted her to move those panties to the side. "Show me what you're hiding there!" I screamed inside my head. As if to, figuratively, rub my face in the fact she knew what was under there, and I didn't, she worked her hand down into her underwear. I could see her fingers moving around in there, a pinky and forefinger appearing out of either side of the strip of fabric hiding her from me, her other two fingers, I could only imagine, sliding down inside of her.

I dammed the cum again.

Without moving her hands, she righted herself and turned back toward me, still covering her breasts. She backed away, back over to her seat. The rest of the bus patrons long gone from the scene, she sat back down on the bench. She let her panties hand trail up across her belly, leaving a visible trace of wetness behind it. She started playing with her breasts, gently rocking back and forth, grinding herself down onto the bench. Oh, I wanted her to be grinding down on me! She leans back, legs spread, and starts rubbing through her panties again. The dark spot has completely engulfed the fabric covering her pussy, and her fingers are visibly wet just from the external contact. She's pulling on her left nipple, twisting it between her fingers, head thrown back... oh no. She's going make herself cum, and I'm not going to get to help!

She shoved her hand back down into her underwear, thrusting her fingers inside of her. Her eyes are locked on my cock, and she's licking her lips again. Before I realized what I was doing, I was standing in front of her, and she was extending her tongue out to meet the glistening tip of my penis. I thrust it past her lips, and into her mouth. She groaned. The vibration of her voice reverberated up and down my cock. The swell built. I could hear her hand moving faster in her wetness. Building. I grabbed a tit, hard, and roll the nipple between my fingers. I exploded! She exploded! She slurped around the head of my cock, milking me with her free hand, pulling every last bit of cum out of me as she convulsed with her own orgasm. That sweet smell washed over us, as I felt the last spurts of cum hit the back of her throat.

The bus jolted to a halt. "End of the line! Everybody off!" My lap felt warm. I looked down. I got a sinking feeling. That's not just precum.

She was still sitting across from me, with a wry half smile on her face. She gets up, and let a tissue drift down onto my lap, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, "Maybe next time I'll let you see what's underneath."