The air is unbearably hot and stale in the bus, and I lean my arm against the window, glad I've got a seat whilst people are fighting for room to stand. We stop, an old lady leaves the seat beside me and before I can even blink, the seat is occupied again. I pay no attention to my fellow traveller, instead looking out of the window and dreaming about the coolness of tap water at home, only another forty minutes' ride away.
I'm glad I feel most comfortable in dresses, 'cause I couldn't bear even the thought of leaving home in jeans on a day as hot as this. My light green dress reaches my knees, quite an acceptable length to wear without pantyhose in the summer. The bodice is the risqué part, if I don't want all the straps showing, I have to forego wearing a bra. It's fine though, it's summertime and the front of the dress is concealing enough. I just feel a tad exposed when I think about it.
The warmth is getting to be a little bit too much for me now; I don't want to start sweating. Luckily, it's now that I notice that the upper part of the bus window can be opened, and as soon as that thought takes form in my head, I reach out to yank at the handle. The window is tightly shut and I want to curse under my breath, since even this little exercise is making me feel warmer.
Suddenly an arm shoots up to the window from beside me. "Here, let me do that," the man sitting next to me offers, and with a firm yank opens the blasted window, letting wonderful wind brush against my face.
"Thank you," I beam at him before settling back into my seat. He leans back, too, only his hand, which only a moment ago seemed to belong to my knight in shining armour, lands on my knee.
"What's your name, love?"
I stare at him, finally registering his features as I consider answering. He has a rather dashing look about him, in a sort of roguish way. He's older than me, at least ten years older, though I'm never good at guessing people's age. His hair and eyes are warm chestnut brown and he's smiling, as if he thought such physical contact was part of normal human interaction. I tell him that my name is Brianna, expecting that somehow adding a name to a face would make him realize the peculiar placement of his hand.
No such luck. My eyes widen when he starts slowly and nonchalantly caressing my thigh, moving the fabric of my dress under his hand, tugging it upwards. I quickly reach down to push his hand away or at least stop its movements, but he continues undeterred, just pressing down harder when I try to pull his hand away.
"Would you stop that!" I whisper, annoyed, but his smile won't falter. His hand lands on the bare skin of my thigh, and I am momentarily struck by envy when I notice his skin is cooler than mine.
"Don't make a fuss over nothing, little one," he replies, chuckling lightly. It's sickening how innocent he sounds, making me cringe at what he calls me. "I only want to make us both feel good. Isn't this heat terrible? Let me relax you a little."
He's talking slowly, tantalizingly, and I disappoint myself by listening without interruption, though not necessarily believing him. While he talks, his damned hand moves up my thigh, and his fingers brush against my panties. Instinctively, I press my legs together, resisting his approach. It suddenly dawns on me that we are in public and that anyone could see how he's touching me. I look around in panic mixed with hope, but all I see is people's backs.
"Don't worry, love," the man sitting next to me says soothingly, tapping against my panties. "No one will notice a thing. We're way at the back of the bus, and it's quite safe here."
I gasp quietly when I feel his hand slip into my panties and his middle finger immediately presses down on my clit. I grab his arm, shaking my head desperately at him. "Get off me," I whisper frantically. Never mind his touch, the man's convinced smile is what makes me even more uncomfortable. He winks and presses down on my pussy, his fingers sliding insistently between my pussy lips. Okay, I take it back, the touch is worse! "Please! I don't want this."
His caresses gradually turn to determined rubbing, and my stomach churns with embarrassment when I can feel his movements getting easier. I'm getting very, very wet.
"You're lovely when you blush," he whispers, leaning close to me, and I squeeze my eyes shut to block his face from my view. That, and to try and regain control over my body's reaction to his assault. "No need to fret, darling." Seriously, why did he even ask my name if he was going to call me that!
His middle finger presses against my hole, making me shake my head again, whispering, "No, no, no..." I'm trying to keep my legs firmly pressed together, but his hand is already where he wants it.
With slow determination, he pushes his finger into me, whispering warmly, "Let it happen. Enjoy it, little girl. Let me make you feel good." A violent shiver of unwanted pleasure runs through my body when he reaches inside me, struggling against my tight resisting pussy and building his strokes into a tauntingly slow pace. "You want to enjoy this. You want me to go on."
His finger moves with attentiveness that is almost kind, with each stroke pressing a little deeper, exploring his prize. I focus on the waves of warm ecstasy that travel through my unwilling body, and I feel ashamed and weak. A second finger joins the first, and immediately a third, and his thrusts start to hurt. I let out an uncomfortable whimper, trying to wiggle away from his touch.
"That's right," he says hungrily, his breathing heavier than before. He slides closer to me; his body presses against mine, trapping me between the window and him. His hand is picking up pace, rocking my lower body, stretching my little pussy painfully as he thrusts his fingers into my hole. I whimper weakly, unhappily, and his breath brushes against my face when he says, "Look at me, Brianna."
I open my eyes, suddenly aware of tears in the corners of my eyes. His face is awfully close to mine now, and I feel frightened of the greedy lustful glint in his eyes as he licks his lips. The awful reality of the scandalous scene hits me again as I stare at this complete stranger's face while his hand pounds into my young pussy. I become aware of the quiet wet sounds coming from down there. I steal a glance down at my pussy and almost cry out as at the same time he presses his thumb masterfully on my clit.
My body starts to shiver with new unfamiliar but amazing waves of pleasure, and I feel something quickly building up inside me, waiting to be released with unbearable urgency. What would have been a moan is muffled by the stranger's lips when my orgasm fully hits. He kisses me hungrily, his unrelenting hand pounding me throughout my ecstasy, making the pleasure harder to grasp but all the more sweeter with each thrilling thrust.
