A Girl on the Bus

"Adam, are you asleep?"

I heard Delilah's low voice, and perhaps I had dozed, as I'd not heard the shower go off, nor the opening and closing of doors. I didn't know how long she'd been standing there; it might have been a moment, it might have been minutes.

"No, I just closed my eyes for a second. How was your shower?"

"Delicious. Truly wonderful. I'm warm now. But you, how are you? My gown, it's not very thick. Are you warm enough? Usually, on a night like this..."

"I wouldn't mind a blanket, if you could."

"Of course."

I watched her as she went back upstairs, the sway of her hips as she took the steps. From what I could see in the low light, she was dressed comfortably in a pair of soft pants, pyjamas maybe, and what appeared to be a fine woollen sweater. She'd pulled her hair back from her face into a tight pony tail, and looked younger.

Watching her return, a blanket in hand, was a pleasure. Delilah moved silently, sinuously, and I saw the slight shift of her breasts, probably braless, swaying under the sweater.

She watched me watching her, and smiled. "Here, Adam, snuggle under this. You must stay warm." Delilah spread the blanket over me. "There. That's better."

She went to the kitchen. "Now, what can we eat?"

She opened the fridge and clicked her tongue, because of course, the light didn't go on. She laughed. "I forgot. There's no power."

Delilah shifted to one side so that the light of the candles would help her see. "Eggs, do you eat eggs? I thought omelettes, they'll be quick and no fuss."

"That sounds lovely, yes. Can I help, do something useful?"

"No, I don't think so. I know where everything is. You'll just get in the way. I can do it."

She turned to look at me. "But you can look after me later. I think I'd like that."

She turned back to her task, and left it at that. I watched her quickly and efficiently prepare our meal, and wondered if she lived her life the same way: getting what she wanted without fuss.

"Now, Adam, let's eat."

The food was delicious, cheese melted into a mix of finely chopped onions, mushrooms and capsicum, lightly fried, wrapped with a perfectly made omelette. The red wine was not quite right but that didn't matter. Both of us were hungry, then contented.

Outside, the rain still fell, blowing in gusts against the windows. Delilah crossed the room to peer out. "It's black as black. I can't see a thing." She pulled the curtains closed.

She walked the few steps to where I sat on a stool by the bench, the blanket held around my shoulders. With a look of certainty in her eyes, Delilah took the glass from my hand and put it on the counter. Then, with her long fingers she untied the tie of the gown and placed her hands at my waist, her fingers warm on my skin. She moved forward a step, between my thighs, and the swell of her breasts pressed against my chest, the soft wool warm with her heat.

My hand, which had held the glass, slid in under the soft fold of the sweater, up Delilah's back. As I'd guessed, I felt only her smooth skin. I pulled her in towards me, and before we kissed, she sighed.

"Your hands are so warm, Adam. My skin..."

My cock rose, and in her matter of fact way Delilah took it in one hand and placed it in under her jumper, against her belly. "It's nice, Adam, that you want me."

We kissed, and with her slow fingers she explored my face, discovering the contours of my cheeks, my throat. I placed my other hand around her back, inside her top. She swayed, once, twice, slowly; and I eased a hand down inside the back of her pants, curving it over her bottom. Delilah wasn't wearing underwear. She eased her feet slightly apart, and her body moved.

"It's like I'm on the bus. Sometimes, when I stand, the movement turns me on. When I get to work I find myself a little bit wet." She continued to sway as I held her. "There's a man on the bus, I see him often, the way he looks at me. I wonder if he knows. We've only spoken a few times, because we get on at different stops. I said to him once, 'can we meet again, one afternoon after work?'"

"How did he reply, Delilah?"

"He didn't. Then one night there was a terrible storm and all the lights went out, and the man stood by me in the drowning rain and gave me his jacket to stay warm."

"What happened next?"

"I drove him home and cooked him a meal. I gave him my gown and he smells of me."

"What happened then, Delilah?"

"The man took me over to the couch and we cuddled up under a blanket, because it was cold outside."

I got up from the stool, and took Delilah's hand. We went over to the couch where I leaned back in one corner, and she curled against my body, her hands on my chest, my arms around her. I pulled the blanket about us for warmth.

"What happens next?" I asked.

"I don't know. I haven't got to that part."

I might have been dreaming.

Delilah made herself comfortable against my body, she made herself fit. Her back was against the couch and she lay curled, her legs slightly bent, in such a way that with one hand I could caress the curve of her backside; and with the other touch her breasts, under the soft woollen top.

She wasn't too big, she wasn't too small, her breasts fitted nicely in my hand. I cupped a breast in my palm, feeling its weight, feeling its curve. She moved slightly, shifting the breast a little so that a firm nipple was centred in my palm.

"Mmmm," she purred, and I needed no words to know what she liked. We stopped kissing and our sole concentration was my hand on her breast, the tug of arousal between her nipple and mine, the slow way I curved my fingers around the warmth of a soft breast. More than a champagne glass for Marie Antoinette, but maybe a pencil would drop.

"She's jealous," she said, for her other breast ached for attention and I slid my hand across to it, all my sight unseen. I gazed down at Delilah's eyes and they were closed, her lips slightly parted, the golden light of the candles glowing on her skin.

"Ahhh, that's right. You know what to do..." and Delilah fell into my hands. My left hand rested on her hip, my fingers spread wide to measure myself on her skin. I needed to know every curve.

As I slowly learned the shape of Delilah's breasts, and heard a faint intake of breath when I twisted a nipple between my finger and thumb, oh so you do like that, I felt Delilah's hand on my cock and she too was slow. She moved a little to find a more comfortable place, and lay her palm and her long fingers against my shaft, pressing it to my gut.

"Mmmm, that's very good." She opened her eyes, looked up at mine, and smiled. "You'll fill me properly, I think."

Delilah closed her eyes, and still she was slow with her hands. She held me and felt the heat of my cock. With her fingers gently squeezing and running over the head, she looked up at me again, watching my reaction as her fingers explored. She saw me gasp, heard my quick intake of breath, as she got a movement just right. Delilah smiled. She licked her lips, wickedly, like the snake in the garden seeking heat.

"Ohh, I see... you like it just there..." and she found the spot again, stroking her fingers like butterflies falling. As I closed my eyes to feel my pleasure without the distraction of sight, I'm sure she smiled again, her languid smile. Oh fuck, she did it again. And again. I opened my eyes to see her delight, I had to see her joy as she fondled and played with me.

"Adam, what's wrong? Don't you like me... doing that...?"

Sweet god, Delilah. She did it again. She knew what to do, and I wanted it done.

She let me go, giving my shaft a little pat as if to say, I won't forget about you, my beauty, and moved her hands up to my face to cradle my cheeks. She studied me, and god help me, I ached for that look, that slow careful look, whilst Delilah made up her mind. I wanted her, and my heart filled with longing. It might have been lust, but it felt quieter than that.

I was held by her gaze, and my hands stopped moving. I was in Delilah's hands and reliant completely on her. She held me powerless and helpless as she studied me. Her eyes creased, and I knew then I was going to be hers.

"I don't often take a man to my room, Adam, but for you I'll make an exception."

I smiled, thinking of Leonard Cohen and Janice - I usually don't like handsome men, but for you I'll make an exception.

Delilah disengaged herself from my arms and got up from the couch. "Leave the blanket down here, we won't need it." She looked back at me. "But leave my gown on. Seeing a man how a man sees me, looking beautiful with softness around him." She touched my arm. "I like that in a man. A gentle man. I'll be treasured, I think, by you."

She went across to the counter, and I followed, my cock following her, my erection rigid, tight up against my gut.

Delilah turned, her eyes bright with delight, and she dropped to her knees, taking me into her mouth. She didn't suck hard. Gently cradling my balls in both her hands, she eased her mouth onto my shaft, exploring my length. She looked up at me with a classic porn star look, then pulled back away and grinned. "Fuck me with your big cock, Adam, fuck my face." She laughed. "That's not so sexy for me. We won't do that, Adam. It's... what do they say, full of cheese? It is cheesy, yes?"

"Cheesy, cheap, yes," I replied.

"Good. It is good we have similar taste." Delilah licked her lips.

It was my turn to laugh. "But Delilah, I've not tasted you yet. I don't know your taste."

She didn't say a word, but eased her hand down inside her pants. She looked at me steadily, then took her hand out. "Now you do." She tasted like dark honey, on her fingers.

We each held a candle as Delilah took me up to her room. She carried a jug of water from the dark fridge, and I took the two glasses she got from a cupboard. I followed her up, admiring the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs. At the top, she turned around and was the same height as me. She kissed me, and it might have been a token, to let me in.

Once in her room, Delilah placed the candles on a dressing table, where they were reflected in a mirror to make four points of light. She went to the window and pulled open the curtains. It was still raining outside, but far off the clouds seemed thinner and there was a faint glow from the the moon. I remembered - it was a day or two off full.

Delilah turned down the bed and plumped up the pillows. I passed her the glasses and she placed one on each side of the bed.

"Now, Adam. We're not wearing much, but it's time to undress, don't you think?"

Delilah undressed first, swiftly pulling the sweater up over her head to reveal bare breasts and a slim torso. She didn't pose, she didn't preen, she simply revealed herself naked. She stood unashamedly before me. A small gold cross hung on a fine chain between her breasts, resting in the gently valley of her cleavage. Her skin glowed golden in the glow of the candles, but I thought she was probably quite pale, sheltered from the sun. Her nipples were full, pulling up the flesh of her breasts into small peaks.

She turned a little and caught me watching. She smiled. "I like how you look at me. It's, how do you say, watchful? Wanting me but not saying it out loud. I have to look closely, to know."

Thus, Delilah explained her stillness and her quiet appraisal.

She slipped her pants down her legs, shucking them away with her feet. Delilah carried herself as if being naked was the most natural thing in the world. There was no false modesty, no flirtation, just a woman comfortable in her own skin. She came to me and placed her hands inside the gown which was still around me. "You don't need this any more," she said, as she dropped it back from my shoulders.

I held Delilah in my arms, and she placed her arms around me. She smiled, then reached down between us to place my shaft upright between her belly and mine. "That's better for you, Adam? It's hot on my belly."

We swayed slowly together, as if we were on a very slow bus, for a minute. Then Delilah turned, took my cock in her hand and led me to her bed. "Come, my beauty, you've got places to be."

She wasn't talking to me.

Delilah pulled back the covers of the bed and patted the mattress. "Please..."

I was welcomed to Delilah's bed, and she gently steered me onto my back. She sat over me, her thighs on each side of my hips, her sex hot along the shaft of my cock. She hardly moved, sliding back and forth a little, as if to find the perfect place. In the dim light of the candles her eyes were black, and when she leaned forward to place both hands on my chest, the little cross on its chain swung low.

The wind had dropped and the rain had stopped, and the only sound was a low tick, tick, tick of drops in a distant gutter, dripping down.

I held Delilah's waist in both hands and looked up to her face. She smiled, then looked quite serious for a moment, as if she was remembering something. She eased herself up, put her hand between us, and carefully positioned the head of my cock between her lips. She eased them apart, licked her fingers for moisture, and held herself there.

"I'm wet, Adam, but I might need to be wetter." She put her fingers, sweet with her honey, to my mouth, and took some of my spit.

"We can stop. We're not in a rush." I smiled up at Delilah, loving her serious look. "We've not got a bus to catch."

She laughed, and the quick movement broke through the tightness between us, and the tip of my cock entered her, sliding a little way in. Delilah's eyes opened wide as she held herself poised over my shaft. Her fingers gripped my chest to hold on. I held her hips gently, and felt her body quiver.

"Sweet goodness," she whispered. "Mmmm... that's better than the bus, however much it sways and rocks."

It was my turn to smile. We'd met on the bus, we'd chatted waiting for a bus, and we'd escaped the chaos of the storm riding on a long bendy bus. And here we were in Delilah's room, starting to make slow gentle love, and still talking about buses. It was a strange thing to do, but travelling together defined us somehow, so far. We knew nothing about each other except as comfortable strangers, seeing each other almost daily on our regular commute. We'd never have met, if we drove cars.

Delilah eased herself slowly down my long shaft. She was wet enough to take me in deeply, finding a slow, wonderful rhythm, until finally she had my whole length inside her, hot as fire inside her sex. If she were any hotter I'd burn.

Impaled on my shaft, she sat upright and arched her back, pressing herself down on me. Then she fell forward, her breasts against my chest, holding my head in her hands.

"Fuck me gently, Adam, nice and slow. My arousal, it is sometimes slow, sometimes quick. Tonight is not so quick."

I didn't answer her words with words. I moved into her with long, slow thrusts, and soon she began to moan, little whimpers from the back of her throat, as I began to dictate the rhythm. She fell forward again, her lips on my neck. We found a faster fuck, but it wasn't hard enough for Delilah.

"On me, be on me, in me, I'm..." and she twisted and wriggled, and slid off me onto her back so I could fuck her deeper and harder, faster and deeper. Delilah looked up at me with wide, amazed eyes as we found a smoother rhythm. "Oooh yes, that's..."

I made love to her faster and still she gazed at me, her eyes black. Then, as if some sudden switch had been switched or some point had been reached, Delilah closed her eyes, gripped the sheet with both hands, and let out a low sigh. "Oh God, sweet man, I'm..."

"Going to come, Delilah? How close? How far away?"

"Ohh beauty, that's right, keep... loving me... oh god oh god oh god..." Delilah uttered each prayer like a plea, urging me on as I pumped into her, her voice urging me on, "oh god oh god ohhhh... yes, yes, yes... mmmm."

She grabbed frantically at my head, pulling my mouth down to hers in a fierce kiss. Fuck, I'd thrust so hard that when I pulled back I fell out of her. She grappled between her legs, found me, placed me back inside her lips, took me back in, took me all in. I hooked Delilah's knees with my elbows, opening her wide, pulling her thighs up to get deeper in. I leaned into her with all the length of my fuck, took her deep and deeper and from her throat I heard a low croon, and in the dark night up in her room, Delilah came, her sex tightening around mine.

"Don't," she managed to say, the denial coupled with a quick jerk and a shudder throughout her body. "Don't you... not yet," and Delilah soared into her orgasm, going there alone as I managed to hold myself back. Not yet, urged Delilah, not yet, but she said no words. Her pleasure was for both of us, and mine would be too, later on, when Delilah made love to me.

Delilah's eyes were still closed, and I saw a softness come over her face as her peak subsided, with a beautiful, radiant smile, a blissful smile; and I knew she'd want to see that same softness come over me, when I came. She looked so young, such an innocence. I moved in her slowly, cooling myself down, slowing my own pleasure to give her a quiet landing, the best of quiet places. Delilah's room was quiet, for the wind had dropped.

"Adam," she said, but didn't finish the thought. It didn't matter, because I lay inside Delilah, holding my weight off her, on my elbows. I cradled her head in the palm of my hands. The little gold cross had risen high on her throat, so I moved it down between her breasts, kissing her tenderly there. I kept my long sway up into her, and eventually Delilah opened her eyes. "You're looking at me with that look," she said, "when you're watching me."

"Of course I am, Delilah, just as you look at me."

"What is it you see, Adam?"

"Someone I'd like to know better."

She smiled gently. "Me too. There's no rush."

I still moved inside Delilah, and she tightened herself around me. "Now, my beauty," she whispered, "where are you now?"

Inside you, Delilah, burning with my heat.

She rolled onto her side, taking me with her. She positioned a leg high on my hip, opening herself up to me. She moved and wriggled, finding an angle where she could urge herself against me, and at the same time, play with herself. It was still dark, so I could see only the paleness of her breasts in the low candle light, and the glow of a slender thigh over mine.

Delilah kissed me, and began a clench on my cock, gripping me tight inside her. "It is my dancer's training, Adam, when I was a young girl. 'Hold and tighten, Delilah,' my teacher said, 'these exercises, you will remember them, girl, you'll see.'" She laughed her low laugh. "I think she was right, my teacher."

I linked my fingers through Delilah's, and she moved against me, her body taut and her sex gripping mine. "Yes, your teacher was right."

She smiled at me, and was so gentle, so peaceful, so calm. She propped herself up on one arm, resting her head on her hand, and studied me. All the while she played with her clit, teasing the little hood open, circling her fingers around. Every now and then she wet her fingers in my mouth, or hers, to make herself wetter. Her cunt clenched and I'd respond, tightening my shaft up inside her.

We lay that way for a good ten minutes, whispering sweet nothings, until Delilah's passion rose again, her fingers all wet between us, her kisses hungrier. She pushed me onto my back, back where we'd started.

"I wanted it harder before, your beautiful cock, but now I take you my way. Lovely and slow. Is it all right Adam, that I fuck you my way?"

And as she spoke, Delilah put actions to her words and began to ride me, easing herself up and down on my shaft. She sat up, her breasts high and firm, the little gold cross lying between them. She took one of my hands and placed it on a breast, and I tugged on the nipple, twisting it between my forefinger and thumb. She hissed in her breath and turned, wanting the same on her other breast. I placed both palms high up, and she leaned forward to give me her weight.