In Transit

Try as I might, I was unable to conjure up the same immersive fantasy after my nemesis, the smelly ogre man, left the bus. It would be a little while before we departed, so I sighed in unfulfilled ardor, and went in search of the ladies room.

I didn't have anyone sitting beside me as the bus once again pulled out, this time onto much quieter streets than we had battled in the city. Not only were we in a smaller town, but rush hour had finished some time earlier, and there was no traffic to speak of. The bus navigated a couple of sets of traffic lights and a roundabout, before drumming its way up an on-ramp and back onto the expressway.

There was no way I was going to be able to focus on my silly romance novel. My libido was piqued, and I was restless with erotic charge. The night was still too young to draw me into sleep by force, so I was left to wrestle with loosely orbiting carnal thoughts without my ogre as a foil against which to explore them.

The lady across the other side had lucked out with a nice fellow as a traveling companion, and he was making polite conversation with her. Had I such a companion, I might have maintained a wholesome state of mind, I mused. Of course, the man who did sit next to me had done nothing to provoke my insidious projections of my own invention on his likely good nature... But I wasn't here to debate ethics. I was aroused and alone, surrounded by strangers of a social set with which I did not associate myself.

I watched, trying to ignore my unattended inner lusts, as the passenger in front of the nice man over the isle pulled the complementary blanket from their seat pocket, and began arranging themselves. My mind hovered over the scene as they settled down to attempt to sleep. A salacious thought stole across my mind.

Teetering as I was, on the boundary between my outer affect of a decent young lady and my inner reality of an awakening wanton harlot, I leaned slightly, then more determinedly, toward the harlot. I pondered if it were possible, calculated that it must be, hesitated, then double-dared myself to go through with an act I had never even dreamed of previously. This last action, the double-dare, tumbled me headlong into the familiar warm darkness of the fantasy I had enjoyed with my ogre friend, but this time I would be in the real world. The prospect was thrilling.

I fetched my own blanket, for all appearances doing just as the other passenger had done, arranging it over me so that I might sleep. But sleep was absolutely anathema to the frantic scheming of my licentious mind at that moment.

I made sure I had the blanket suitably installed, then settled as if sleeping. But really, I was monitoring the surroundings; the man across the isle in conversation with the lady at the window seat, the person in front under their own blanket and facing away, and the farthest person on the rear seat, the only one of the rear seat passengers I could see from my window seat in the next row, was playing games on a mobile device.

As I waited, and a semblance of my better reason stole into my thinking, I quietly registered an indignant objection against the double-dare that I had submitted to. Of course, on thinking over the rules, I realized that, having so committed, there really was no way out. I was forced to go through with it. I sighed in resignation to the knowledge that I was going to be forced to follow through on the lustful whim of my just-a-few-minutes-earlier self. There was no escaping it now.

The most difficult part of removing your pants without anyone noticing was the initial bit. To get them down under your bottom, you have to lift yourself up in unmistakable, conspicuous ways. But I had plenty of time, and a rapidly forming plan of action.

Pretending to adjust myself for comfort, I changed position but used the motion to disguise the fact I was pulling one side of my sweats down. The process was disappointing, because the other side remained pinned under my hip, and if I were to let go of the waist band now, it would simply spring back into place. But I couldn't just spin over to release the other side, because it would be too obvious. I had to wait a while, stuck in that uncomfortable pose.

I stayed perfectly still, my eyes mere slits so that I could survey my audience... Oh, I mean my fellow passengers. I stayed there for two long minutes, to be certain to create the impression I really was going to sleep. After that prudent time had passed, I dared the next part of the maneuver.

Trying to emulate a natural movement, I rolled the other way, this time pulling the other side of my pants downwards. It worked! I now had my uncovered bottom protruding towards the man sitting opposite, albeit hidden under the blanket. I was now almost facing the window so I couldn't be certain, but I felt I had completed the movement without arousing suspicion. It was thrilling to contemplate that, if I miscalculated, the blanket could by now possibly be revealing a centimeter or more of my bottom, and I didn't really have any way of double-checking. I was pretty sure I had managed to cover myself, but only pretty sure. Anyway, I needed to wait another couple of minutes before moving again, to maintain the ruse, so if I was flashing, there was nothing I could do about it. So naughty!

Finally it was time. I rolled back upright, but spun around so that I was sitting sideways, my back against the window and my knees up with my feet on the empty seat next to me. I was careful to ensure the blanket covered from my feet, all the way to my neck, and then I made a show of adjusting my pillow for comfort. I settled in for another period of stillness, my pants still around my thighs. A draft from who knows where, came whisping around my now uncovered bottom, and as I lay perfectly still, I struggled to imagine how it was getting under the blanket. I guessed finally that there could be a space between the seats. Not that it mattered. It passed the time.

My bottom felt terribly exposed, even though I knew it was covered. It felt naughty to be so undressed under the blanket, knowing that it was absolutely taboo. I savored the sensation for the long minutes I spent in suspended animation, waiting for a chance to continue my game.

Once I deemed it safe, I started gradually inching my pants further towards my knees. I wasn't going to be able to just whip them all the way down, because they needed to go over the knees, and that was going to be highly visible to any onlooker. I needed to be more careful than that.

After a period of what should pass for at least a fitful attempt at sleep, I lowered my knees and ostensibly sort of experimented left and right for a more comfortable position. Of course, what I was really doing under the blanket was shoving the pants past my knees as I moved. With difficulty, including a final shove that I disguised as frustration with getting comfortable, I managed it. The pants were then around my shins. I raised my knees again.

By this stage I was highly excited. The daring ploy was working, but the danger was now high. If I lost the blanket, for example, I would have to yank the pants all the way up in a humiliating and undignified recovery. I almost wished it would happen. Almost. Of course, it didn't.

Feigning sleep, I allowed one knee to fall away from the other a little, and stretch down towards the seat. It had the effect of pulling the pants all the way to my ankles. I thought I might stop there, having made a significant achievement and getting further than I had ever imagined I might, But the double-dare loomed. It was not satisfied with this partial success. First of all, I would need to remove the pants altogether (oh dear!), but more than that, the double-dare had been for nudity. The knickers were going to have to come off as well (gasp!).

It was useless to argue. If it's a double-dare, it is unassailable. I sternly tutted at myself for getting myself into this predicament, but there was no escaping it.

I absentmindedly chewed my lip as I considered what to do. I cursed my stupidity that I hadn't taken the knickers down with the pants, because I was effectively going to have to start all over again with those!

But for now it was the pants. I had one leg of the pants starting to fall down around my foot, and by wriggling it I could inch the progress onward, pulling the pants leg steadily off the end of my foot. Nevertheless, I couldn't get the other leg started, as the pants leg was irretrievably scrunched up on my ankle.

Carefully monitoring the people I could see, I dared to draw one foot close to me so that I could keep feeding the pants leg over my foot. It worked. Now I only had one leg left to go. I wriggled around as if adjusting for comfort, sitting myself upright once again. My uncovered bottom cheeks could feel the coarse fabric of the bus upholstery, and I noticed for the first time how scratchy the woolen blanket felt against the tender skin of my naked legs.

Once I was sitting up, I could use the toes of my already-released foot to pull at the other pants leg. It wasn't easy, especially as I was trying to conceal my movements from onlookers. But eventually I managed it, this time pulling the waist band down, which turned the pants leg inside out. My pants were on the floor, separate from my body. So if I were caught, I would not be able quickly to slip them on. I would need to pull the leg back the right way first, before starting from scratch to get dressed. It would be a terrible humiliation. I was breathless at the thought.

It remained to get my knickers off. At this point I ventured to speculate: Would I do it? Did I dare? But the answer was inevitable. I had dared. In fact, I had double-dared. So I really had no choice. It wasn't up to me.

Resigned to the fact that I must go through with it, I decided to try a slightly different tactic this time. After the obligatory delay to feign sleep, I again turned sideways on the seat, my feet on the next seat and my knees up, my back to the window. This, I felt, would allow me a slightly easier task. After, of course, another minute or two of enforced delay to cover my tracks feigning sleep.

When the time came, I gently, and with a minimum of movement, lifted my bottom off the seat and slid my knickers to sit across my thighs, gently returning my bottom to the seat. I was focused intently on the task, so much so that I failed to notice the young guy in the back row had put down his mobile device and was getting up from his seat!

I froze. Had he seen me? Had anyone else? My pulse beat in my neck, and my face flushed. I watched in dread as he excused himself past his next door passenger, someone I could not see, and emerged in the center isle of the gently swaying bus. He looked down at my nakedness, and my cheekily lowered knickers (All he could see was a blanket, of course, but I knew what was under it. Did he?)

He reached up and retrieved a travel pillow from his stuff in the overhead rack. Once he had it, he winked at me and returned to his seat.

What did the wink mean?

Had he been watching? Was I not careful enough?

Or was it just his way of making a friendly gesture to a stranger?

I didn't know. My blood had run cold at the idea that I may be caught, but then the warmth returned when I realized the explanation could be more banal. Could be! I didn't really know, but with this possibility it was merely a subjunctive threat, a Schrodinger's doom, which could only be resolved by asking him, and I was not about to do that.

When my pulse has eased, and the guy got himself seated and settled, I had an additional danger to tweak the titillation of my daring game. I imagined him knowing what I was doing, and that his wink was a signal that he was aware, and approving of it. The prospect was darkly thrilling. Was he really settling in for sleep, or merely pretending, and keeping a watchful eye on me? The bus interior was too dark for me to know.

Well, I resolved, if it was a show he wanted...

I checked on the couple across the isle. I couldn't see the woman, and her male companion was apparently sleeping. In theory, were he only pretending, he would perhaps be able to watch me, but I suspected he was actually asleep. My target audience was the younger man at the back corner of the bus.

Daringly, I eschewed my previous caution at the obstacle represented by my knees. This time, I slid my knickers over my knees with as little obvious movement as possible, but without the more elaborate precautions of the last time. Were someone watching, they would probably be able to tell what I was doing. It was intoxicating.

With my knickers around my ankles, I debated for at least a few minutes about what I would dare next. The safe way would be to spin around to sit upright, and let the knickers fall on the floor. But there was another prerogative at work, other than that of safety. It was the angel who was decidedly not my "better angel". In fat she was almost certainly a fallen, exiled, reviled angel! It was she who had invented the double-dare, and she was lurking again, and despite the first dare still being incomplete, she proposed another one.

She was irresistible. Her will was a force I could not withstand. I agreed to the extra dare, and she rewarded me, as she always does, with a surge of delicious eroticism. But after the initial buzz, I quickly regretted the silly decision to surrender to her and subject my self to her cruel game. I cursed the silly voice in my head that gets me into these things, and then set about living up to the audacious new dare that I had taken on.

I curled myself more or less sideways, as is almost possible when lying sideways on a bus seat. I made sure to have my feet, and the knickers which adorned my ankles, protrude from the blanket as I settled into my new posture. My head, and my thus provocatively decorated feet, were the only parts not covered by my blanket.

The dare was outrageous. It exposed my whole ruse to anyone observant enough to discern it. My knickers lounged loosely around my feet, making it obvious that I was not only naked under the blanket, but most certainly for some obscene purpose, should they catch someone's eye.

The dare required me to stay perfectly still with this evidence of my perfidy revealed openly for at least a whole minute. I counted the seconds.

When the minute was complete, I then had to reach down with my hand and remove the knickers, not below the blanket, but above it, and drop them into the foot well in a manner that, in the daytime with alert passengers, would be perfectly obvious. But late at night, with everyone asleep (except, perhaps, the admirer in the back row), one I should get away with. Probably...

The nakedness of my legs sliding against each other under the scant protection of a single blanket, was stoking my eros. I felt outrageously naughty and daring, luxuriating in the forbidden pleasure as my smooth legs experienced each other. I reached down and plucked the lace from my feet, lifting the tiny prize over the blanket. My watcher in the corner made an ambiguous movement. Was he reacting to my show, or just tossing in his sleep? I couldn't tell, but my pulse leapt, and I simpered in fresh lustful indulgence. I even paused, my dainty underwear dangling in the open air, for several moments before letting them fall to the floor in the foot well where my discarded pants languished.

The next wait seemed interminable. I counted to sixty, but I have to admit the last twenty or so may have been shorter "seconds" than the first. Finally, I rolled back onto my back, with my head resting against the window, arranged across the two seats. My legs were more or less straight, but with the knees bent out slightly, as if for comfort. In fact, I was arranged that way for the final, most depraved part of the original double-dare.

My vision was blurred from the excitement. Reasoned thought, to the extent that I had clung to its thread, had abandoned me almost completely. The swell of erotic energy arose and engulfed me. I was really going to do it. Right now!

At first, I let my hands rest on my tummy. Excitement and anticipation roared silently in my ears over the drone of the bus' engine and the quiet snoring of its passengers. I slid my right hand down into my familiar sex. It was ready. My first touch of the inner lips was electric. Breathless, I carefully slid one finger up and down the slightest amount, making use of the already thick slick of arousal.

I struggled for the self control to monitor my surroundings. The man across the isle was seemingly deeply asleep, unaware of the show he was missing. My observer in the back corner showed no sign that he was noticing me, but I could not confirm that he wasn't. My single finger was able to slip around without any visible change to the blanket obscuring the obscenity. I stayed for a long time, just wallowing in the pleasure washing over me, both from the physical stimulation and from the added catalyst of the unspeakable wickedness of my audacious behavior. My head spun happily in a daze.

Presently, the double-dare impatiently presented itself once again, now with its final demand. It was a detail I had not paid close attention to as I rushed to submit to the lewd game earlier. The condition was that I must climax to satisfy the dare!

Often, I can climax in a reasonably controlled way. In this case I doubted I could manage it. Every part of my body, and the depths of my libidinous little mind, were thrumming with erotic power. My hand was no longer restrained to the use of a single finger, concealing the motion from view under the blanket. Two fingers were now sliding in and out in accelerating tempo towards a climax that threatened to be uncontrolled, and I wasn't sure that the slurping sounds were completely inaudible.

As my fever rose, all sense of caution was eviscerated. My hand was moving more vigorously, which was edging the blanket across, threatening to expose me. Part of me watched in horror as my left hand assisted the blanket's slide, initially due only to the urgent motion of my right hand beneath it, but preempting the inevitable, my impudent left hand flicked it aside to fully reveal my spreadeagled legs, and furious right-handed masturbation to all onlookers. The same wicked left hand slid its fingers through my now ample juices and shoved itself into my mouth, the familiar taste and the redolent scent of my own musk propelling me over the edge in reckless abandon.

The climax came upon me as a wave. I bit down on the fingers of that recalcitrant left hand, which had so unscrupulously left me exposed in my most compromised moment, and sucked on it ardently to keep the lips closed as far as possible. The pain from my semi-rational bite of passion was enough, but only barely, to form a blinding handle that I could cling to in my mind, allowing me the presence of mind, if only barely, to withhold the otherwise loud moan. It gave me the wherewithal to twist what would have been urgent moans and grunts of climax into an injured whimper, which itself was still too loud by half.

After several long moments of lewd, fully unveiled thrusting and whimpering, as the urgency subsided, I directed that decadent, now injured left hand to retrieve the blanket and cover my shame. The right hand still had work to do, bringing me in for a soft landing, but it could be done under the blanket's protective covering. I cooed softly, luxuriating in the waves of forbidden pleasure.

My breathing was still rasping as the bus suddenly began to decelerate. The lights came up, the driver started babbling, and people started rousing. And here I was, half naked under my blanket, with one hand still between my legs!

I cursed my inner slut for being so careless. Now I was in a real fix. This was again not my stop, but what was I going to do? I would not have the chance to get dressed again until everything goes dark and everyone is asleep again. Would a new passenger come on board and sit next to me? What would I do then? A mild panic settled over me.