The charter bus is a warm welcome from the bitter cold outside. Together, the two of us make our way to the two seats in the very back of the bus, down the aisle and to the left, right in front of the bathroom. Every year our art school makes this trip, a few hours by bus to the various art museums in Chicago. There we spend the day looking at various pieces, and wandering the city shopping and eating. It was good fun, there were many lovely items on display, good pizza to be had, and even a stop off at an ice cream place that we enjoyed despite the late autumnal chill in the air.
As we take our seats she sheds her coat, one of those stylish New York-type ones with black wool on the outside and red silky lining on the inside. Underneath she’s wearing some sort of blouse, turquoise, sewn together so it has a bunch of tight ripples all over, and bunches up in many of the right places. Underneath is a simple camisole, a very pale pink color with a little bit of lace at the top. She has auburn hair done in one of those short haircuts that people always associate with bitchy coffee shop customers, though she couldn’t be further from the type. She’s sweet, shy, and non-confrontational pretty much to a fault. She drapes her coat over both of us like a blanket. I ditch my own hoodie and place it over the seat cushion next to me by the aisle. There we nestle in together and watch as everyone else finds their places, stowing souvenirs and purses and other belongings. I sigh lightly, letting the events of the day wash over me, my right hand goes to its customary place on her leg where it begins to trace mindless little patterns even as a dose off…
When I wake it’s completely dark outside, and the bus is already on the expressway back to college. I don’t think I’ve been out for very long, maybe 40 minutes tops. I can feel the familiar pillar of strength that is my sleep-erection straining against my underwear. Somewhat less familiar is the feeling of slender fingers slowly yet strongly rubbing up and down its clothed underside. She and I have done our share of fooling around, even down to just our underwear. But never beyond that, and being from a conservative background and all, she has certainly never been the one to initiate anything. But now, even underneath the soft glow of the bus’ running lights, I can see her eyes are wide open as she bites her lower lip in anticipation. She sits up to peer over the seats, but no one nearby is paying any attention. Most are asleep. Then she gently eases back down. I feel her other hand slide up the inside of my thigh. Then she slowly, carefully undoes the button of my khakis. Her breathing takes on a slightly more excited pace, a little bit shallower, a little bit quicker, but it doesn’t quite drown out the heavy sound of my zipper sliding slowly down its track. I catch a look at her cleavage as I think back… was her blouse unbuttoned that far when we sat down? Even through the blouse and cami, I can see just the vaguest shape of her nipples as they push against the fabric. I know she was wearing a bra earlier. The muscles at the base of my shaft give a good twitch. She smirks. Then she slides her fingers through the hole in the front of my underwear and wraps them around me. Normally her body feels warmer than mine, but even that is nothing compared to the pulsing heat that I’m putting out.
*This feels great*, I think to myself, *but it won’t last. She’s not that kind of person.*
But I sigh anyway as her hand begins to work up and down. It’s almost too slow. I lean my head back against my seat, my mouth falls open. Someone up ahead snorts and stirs and she freezes. But her grip doesn’t relax, and after a moment she begins moving up and down again. She moves a little faster than before. Not by much, but noticeable. I wet my lips. I want to show her it feels good. So quietly and carefully, I lean over and kiss her on the mouth. Her lips melt apart, smooth and familiar. It’s a slow kiss, soft and wet. My left hand goes across her body to her side. She’s fairly petite, my open hand spans her side and the side of her breast. My fingers begin sliding over her rippled blouse almost without thought, my thumb gently tracing the figure of her breast. But then she pulls away. She cocks her head slightly, looking up at me out of the corner of her eyes. She takes her hand out of my pants, pressing a single admonishing finger to my lips, gently pushing me back into my seat. She has a tiny smile… she’s not upset. Quite the opposite. So, what’s she up to then, I wonder. When I’m leaning back, her hands disappear again beneath the coat. It ripples a bit as her hands move underneath it. Something shuffles around a bit. There’s the small ‘click’ of her purse opening, the clank of clutter pushing around for a moment. Then, the sound of a plastic cap flicking open. There’s motion under the coat again as her fingers retake their position wrapped around my shaft.
*I might be in trouble here…*
I feel something oily and slick on her hand. She moves it up and down, twisting slightly as she goes, coating every last inch of my shaft. Occasionally she goes up and over the head, pausing there to rub her thumb along the cap before sliding back down to the base. The jolts of sensation running through the head of my dick contrast the warm, deliberate pull up and down the length. My breathing comes in hushed drags through the slit of my mostly closed mouth as I try to keep it steady and level. I close my eyes, trying to focus on being as stealthy as possible.
It doesn’t work. If anything, cancelling out an entire sense of mine makes the physical sensation that much stronger. After a few seconds, my eyes fly open again. I look around the bus, straining to take everything in, anything that will distract me. All around are our fellow students, sleeping through the passing lights outside, the gentle hum of the road beneath us…. The soft noises of her hand pumping my lubed cock. I look over at her. The coat has fallen away from her shoulders and into her lap. The buttons of her blouse are undone halfway, maybe more, exposing the light camisole underneath. Slowly, her free hand slides up from under the coat to her shoulder. A single finger hooks around the strap of the cami, gently tugging it down. Whatever oil she’s using on me is on her other fingers too. They move to the cami’s lace that is now not quite covering her nipple. She presses slightly against the back of the seat, creating a little slack in your clothing. I can see the little freckle on the inside of her breast as her fingers move in tight little circles, coating it slightly. The soft overhead lights glint off the oil. She sighs ever so slightly, inclining her chin a fraction towards me. She bites her lip, smiling the slightest bit. And all the while, her hand slides endlessly, relentlessly up and down, up and down.
It’s getting to be more than I can take. My breath is coming in pants now, short little hah hah hah sounds. Encouraged, she gracefully increases the tempo of her movements, fingers clenching slightly as they slide up towards the tip, like she’s trying to milk me. She shifts over, pressing her body against me. Soft, wet kisses begin to dot my neck slowly, in between each desperate little breath I take. Her breath caresses me, haunted by wisps of strawberry from the ice cream we had before we left Chicago. My fingers clench on her thigh, I can feel the gentle vrrrt my fingernails make against the texture of her jeans. Desperately, I slide my hand higher into the depths of her crotch, but it’s no use. She knows I’m trying to break her concentration so her efforts on me will slacken. Chuckling softly into my neck through her kiss, she presses her thighs tightly together, trapping my hand. Her other hand slides back below the coat and over the back of my own, making sure I can’t escape. I am acutely aware of of her humid warmth as it radiates through the fabric. It’s unbearable. My breaths have graduated into barely audible “hmm…. hmmm”s as she continues to work on me. My hips have begun to thrust ever so slightly, rising to meet each downward stroke. I’m losing ground to her even faster now.
Suddenly, there’s a noise. A few rows ahead of us one of our classmates, a guy from our figure drawing class stands up and heads toward the bathroom at the back of the bus. Everything freezes. She closes her eyes, resting her head against my chest. To any onlooker, it seems as though she’s simply hugging me in her sleep. They can’t see her hand under the coat, firmly gripping the base of my throbbing erection, tilting it against my stomach so as not to create a bulge in the thick folds of fabric that are our only shield. The classmate’s eyes pass over us momentarily as he blearily reaches the little steel door, his expression unchanging. He has no idea. I relax for a moment. The reprieve allows me to move away from the edge she was slowly pushing me towards.
Shlick.
The unexpected motion makes me gasp slightly. I look down at her face, her eyes glint mischievously in the gloom. My hips gave me away. She knows I’m close now, she can sense it. And she’s not about to let me rest. She slides her hand up and down again, letting a light and breathy sigh pass through her moist lips. My eyelids flicker, my eyes roll upward a fraction. Everything is quiet and still. Shlick. Again. Wait. Stroke. Again. It seems to go on like this, until finally I hear the sounds of movement through the wall behind me. I expect another momentary lapse from her, which is why I’m greatly surprised when she suddenly wraps her hand around the head of my cock and rolls it around. The jolt of sensation makes me hiss, but the sound of the door-latch coming open masks it. She resumes her false sleep as the guy walks past us, motionless save for her thumb rubbing along the underside of my head. Once he’s settled in his seat, she begins again in earnest. She knows that now is the time to pounce.
I can feel the familiar tingle that’s been on a low simmer for the last 20 minutes or so begin to swell, wanting to burst forth. I’m breathing in ragged pants now through clenched teeth, audible “hnn, hnn, hnn” sounds as her hand moves continuously, stoking the seething embers deep inside me. I can feel her want for me as she presses herself tightly against my body, her pert breasts squishing against my shoulder and chest. Her divine lips plant thick wet kisses along the sensitive length of my carotid artery, tracing saliva up and down, then sliding her lips along as if she wished they were wrapped sideways along my shaft. I can feel the orgasm welling, I fight desperately to push it back as a long, low sound escapes me. At some point deep within my throat it may have started out as a ‘no’, but came out as a stretched and unholy “hnnnnnnnnngggggggg”. My hoodie bunches up in my fingers as my hands clench, with my other hand I can still feel her heat underneath the coat, feel her wetness which has long since soaked through. She sits up ever so slightly, her hand working me furiously up and down now, sliding expertly from base to tip, clenching and milking, dragging it out of me. She puts her mouth to my ear and whispers a few final sounds, strained and guttural little “ah, ah”s.
My last ounce of resistance is overrun. My back arches uncontrollably as my feet push against the base of the seats in front of me, lifting me off the seat entirely. My hips thrust and buck of their own accord as powerful shivering contractions push great spurts of sticky cum. Her hands continue to ply my thick shaft, her clenched fingers tight around me making me all the more aware of the racing torrents of semen as they flow through my dick. My hands clench and splay repeatedly. My head tilts back and my eyes roll into my head, eyelids fluttering and mouth open. At first I make no sound, my breath frozen as I try to ride the waves of ecstasy that explode and rebound through me, moving from my head to my legs to my crotch only to race the circuit again. Suddenly she lunges up, grabbing my neck in a hot, sucking kiss and my nose fills with her scent, skin and sweat and perfume and strawberry all together. “Hhhhuuuuuuuooohhh,” as my held breath escapes me in a rush, my body convulsing. And still, her hand keeps sliding, coaxing spurt after spurt of cum. Each one is accompanied by a “hhng” from me, and a kiss from her.
Finally it ends. Her hand slows and stops. Her kisses become light and soft again as they move down my neck and to my collarbone. She gives one final tug as if to tease me, sending a last little jolt of sensitivity through me, making me jerk a little. She moves a bit under the coat again, and this time I hear the sound of the plastic pack of wet wipes she keeps in her purse. She cleans me off her fingers, discards the wipe, then sighs and nuzzles up against my shoulder. I look around the bus, but everyone is either sleeping or listening to something on their headphones. All of course, except for the driver, who simply meets my gaze in the mirror and shakes his head with a smirk.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8j4891/mfpublicfdom
You have no idea how wet i am reading this