On the Buses and Off

They say you should write about what you know. And after today, I don't think I'll ever forget.

My first day off in months. Payday still a week away so no chance of going home or on a proper holiday, but decided rather than mooching at home I'd nip into town. 'Why not' I thought, despite the pounding poverty I could still afford a few luxuries, and what better way to celebrate a day off than by doing the things I couldn't during working hours?

I got on the bus and was immediately struck dumb by how busy it was. Barely a seat to be found. And I very much didn't want to stand like a pleb. Being 6 foot 4, standing up made my head scrape the roof and, to my mind, made me stand out like the Pope at a GUM clinic. The reasons for the bus busyness quickly became apparent. Teen mums and their toddler children competed with the elderly in a 'who can be the greatest tax drain' competition while taking up as many seats as possible. Not that I'm a roaring fascist, but I do think that as the only person on who actually physically paid for their ticket, I should be entitled to a seat.

I found one at the back, sandwiching myself neatly between an old woman laden down with BHS bags and the matriarch of a clan of chavs, who asserted her authority by shouting at them because they wouldn't sit still. Luckily I had my Ipod, and the dulcet tones of Mitchell and Webb soon drowned out the noise of chav theatre. Again, I'm not some kind of fascist, but there's a world of different between the chavvy-but-good-looking-with-it girls, and the out & out chav girls for whom pregnancy was the only career available, and the postman and nearest mechanic had been drunk enough to oblige.

There were none of the first category on this bus.

I swept around the shops like a dervish, suddenly very much not in the mood to go shopping and bemoaning my decision to leave the house at all. I'm on holiday, time to do things like tv and daytime naps, the oh-so-delicious addictive liquor of my student days. Getting myself off the coach to hell was very much a good decision, as the chavs scrambled in their bags for vouchers to the Zoo and made it clear they wouldn't be getting off any time soon.

'Do you want a bag?' the hatchet-faced woman behind the counter at M&S asked. The question was polite, but the face clearly said that she'd rather be at the bingo.

'Nah I'll be fine thanks' I replied, hastily stuffing my shopping into my rucksack, my mind already en route home and accelerating.

I stood queuing for the bus, hoping it wouldn't be another journey like the first one. As I pulled my ticket from the dispenser I was taken aback by two things. Firstly, this bus was nigh on empty. And secondly, of the 6 passengers on it, 4 were good looking women. I made a beeline for the back seat, best seat in the house. From here I could have an ideal view with the added advantage that generally people were quite loathe to traipse all the way to the back, and consequently it filled up slower. Instantly I reverted to teenage male mode. I was no longer a working 25 yr old with responsibilities and blessed with a few days holiday, I was a horny 15 year old whos principal aim in life is to see a thong, or down a girls top, and sit there mentally filing the image for a wank once in a place where he wouldn't be arrested for doing so.

The bus had only gone a few stops (or a few thongs, as what my testosterone-addled mind was counting distance in) when I raised my eyes and had to do a double-take. Genuinely felt my heart skip a beat. Coming up the aisle was one of the most stunning girls I had ever seen. 5ft 8, curled and tousled dyed black hair, piercing green eyes and a sexy, confident strut. Her eyes met mine and seemed to sparkle with amusement, holding my gaze almost quizzically, as if trying to place me. I gazed back, unable to stop my eyes traveling up and down her, taking in her tight faux leather jacket and grey leggings, and knee-length black boots. I tore my eyes away from her, aware of the glowing hotness I could feel spreading up my cheeks in the beginning of a blush. But I couldn't help but look up again when I saw a pair of knee-length boots sit down opposite me at the back. She had sat down opposite me. There were plenty of other seats on the bus. But then again some people prefer to sit facing backward, bit early to read into it.

She placed her bag down as I tried to look out the window and contain my blush, my heart still beating with an irregularity that I couldn't stop. I looked back at her as she dug in her bag for her phone, drinking her in all over again. I noticed her hair was ruffled and messy, while the rest of her had been immaculately made up, her porcelain skin glowing with the healthy look of youth. I guessed she must be 21 or 22. I also started to smell (or thought I smelled) a familiar odour, that stale mix of alcohol and sweat, but with a sweetness that my hyper-stimulated brain quickly told me was the scent of sex.

This was a girl on her way home. From a night out before. Where she had been fucked.

She looked up and caught me staring, a faint smirk playing across her lips as she read my all-too-obvious interest. She turned around in her seat, digging in her bag more forcefully now, until she was turned fully around in her chair. Whatever I was pretending to look at out the window definitely could not compete with watching her arse. The sensual curve of her full perfect arse outlined against the grey material of her leggings, with the top of her light pink thong riding high above the waistline. She bent forward again, my eyes glued to her perfect bum as my hands itched to grab it, to squeeze it, to yank down those leggings and smell her. By now the burgeoning erection I had been fighting for a full five minutes was threatening to burst. I could feel it straining against my jeans, squashed down by my bag on my lap, hiding my intense physical reminder that this girl is young and probably fertile, and every inch of caveman in me wants to be inside her. She leaning back in her chair, sliding herself round and hiding her thong from my view, still with her smirk on her face while her eyes were glued to her phone. She must have been texting whoever it was she was with last night. Lucky bastard.

She took her make-up case from her bag and examined herself in its mirror, and I wasted no time in seizing the opportunity to let my eyes roam over her again. The leggings were so tight I could see the outline of her thong straps round her waist. I let my eyes play over her crotch, hoping to see her camel toe, but at that point she swung her bag into her lap and put her make-up away. Damn. But still that smile!

I remained in my reverie until I noticed the approaching bodies. In the last few minutes the bus had filled up quite a bit, and all the seats to the front had been filled. Already mentally cursing whoever sat next to her, I lifted my bag off my lap and put it between my legs, to make space. The girl looked around, also noticing the approaching people, and then stood. My heart sank as she picked up her bag. She turned to face the aisle, and then promptly sat down beside me. I could feel her thigh beside mine, smelled her perfume and the tendrils of her hair resting on my shoulder. She faced straight ahead, ignoring my flushing face and the blood I could feel pulsing through my veins so hard I thought id burst. There was nobody sitting in front of us, no-one had taken her vacated seat. I could see her still smiling out of my peripheral vision, but dared not turn. I felt her leg brush against mine. I shuffled in my seat nervously, adjusting myself. Definitely did NOT want to squash the pretty girl. It happened again. With her handbag on the floor she ran her hand down her leg, as if to pick it up.

Slowly, she sat back up, letting her fingertips brush up my leg. A long, lingering gesture. I turned quickly to face her, seeing that same smile with those full, pouty lips, only now with her eyes staring wickedly back at me. She knew exactly what she was doing to me. She bent forward to fiddle with her boots, exposing her arse crack and thong to me again. I don't know what came over me. I moved my hand down onto the chair behind her, and felt her warm, juicy arse sit down on it. She shuffled momentarily, before settling on it, still smiling, still saying nothing. I gently squeezed her left cheek, feeling its ripeness fill my palm, knowing only a thin layer of grey cotton separated her naked arse from my hand. She rocked gently on it, almost imperceptibly, while she put her hand on her thigh and gently flicked mine with her fingers. We were communicating, but what either of us was saying was anybody's guess. I squeezed her again, while she coughed and moved herself closer to me, my hand now resting dead between her arse cheeks. I traced my fingers and felt her thong through the material, brushing against it, pushing it gently, trying to find the edge of her tight pussy lips. I squeezed her again, and she leaned into me, our closeness now looking less like fellow passengers than a dating couple. I breathed in the scent of her, aching to kiss her, while I slowly massaged her arse.

Suddenly, her tapping fingers withdrew. She stared ahead and stood slowly, while I withdrew my still-warm hand. It was her stop. She took a couple of steps forward, and then looked back at me. I stood too and followed. She began walking down the street, still a few paces in front, still that perfect arse showing tightly in those leggings. She stopped at some traffic lights, so I stood next to her and stopped too. She crossed the lights quickly, and I sped up to keep pace, all the while slightly worrying that maybe that wasn't a signal she gave, maybe that was a sign that our time had ended. I stayed a few paces behind her as she looked back, her eyes catching mine and then looking back ahead. She turned into London road gardens. I followed behind as she left the footpath, and went in amongst some trees. She stood with her back to me facing one of the trees, looking behind at me and then facing the tree again, her bag dropped by her side. Without any ceremony, she leaned forward, and put her hands against the tree.

I practically ran over to her, neither of us saying a word, feeling her body stiffen as my hands flew to her, groping her, squeezing her arse and gripping her thighs, moving over her crotch roughly before moving up her jacket and squeezing her tits. She moaned quietly as I leaned against her, my body hot against hers as I nuzzled her neck, my hands reaching round her to pull her tight to me. I grabbed her grey leggings and pulled them half-down in a quick jerk, exposing her arse while my other hand fumbled with my jeans. She moved her legs back against me, pushing against my throbbing cock as I rubbed it against her thong, feeling her wetness beading through the material. I pulled her thong to one side and put my arms around her, guiding my cock inside her. I began to pump her body, thrusting into her with quick urgent motions, as she began to moan louder. There was no thinking now, I had to have her.

I reached down for her tits again and felt he nipples pressing out hard, responding to my touch, while her pussy tightened around my cock, inviting my deeper into her. I nuzzled her neck and gripped her body hard, jerking my hips to fill her completely, desperate to cum inside her. I wanted her to get pregnant, wanted to knock up this perfect woman, make her mine by filling her with a flood of sperm, both of us rutting like animals as she pushed back on the length of my shaft and then jerked me into her again. I fucked her harder, feeling her pussy tight around me, and then moaned hard into her ear grabbing her tightly as I became to cum, pumping thick jets of semen deep in her. We both panted hard as I held her, withdrawing slowly and feeling her pussy slick with juice. She straightened her thong and pulled up her leggings, slowly and deliberately, before she turned to me and smiled again. She picked up her bag and phone, and as I looked at her like a dreamer waking up from a coma, all I could say was 'wow'. She began to walk away, just as her phone rang, and all I heard was her light voice saying 'yeah I'm just on my way home...'

May take the bus more often.