[MF] [F-solo] [exhib] [voy] The Unfinished Story

*I was talking to a nice lady here on Reddit, who inspired quite a few good fantasies. Alas, it turned out that we had different expectations for our connection, and it made more sense to part ways. I had started this story for her, but – as we disconnected from each other – I finished it on my own, and decided to title it as a memory of our broken link.*

She was always there. Without fail. Every night, she’d take the last bus out of town, and ride it till the last stop, in the rural middle of nowhere. She’d get off the bus in the dark, say goodnight to the driver, and walk half a mile to her little home in the woods.

She hated city life, and craved the freedom of nature. But jobs are where people are, and so every morning she commuted into town, and every night she commuted back to her little safe haven.

She’d sit in the corner, not making eye contact, keeping to herself. Lost in her thoughts. In her dreams. Sometimes she’d read a book on her phone. And last night, her entertainment of choice was erotic stories. She didn’t know if it was just her dry spell prolonging more than she wanted to, if it was the hot customer getting her worked up with his flirting, and to be fair, she didn’t care. Nature called. And she answered.

Her favorite subject matter? Sex with the risk of getting caught. Public places. Street corners. Parks. Offices with a window. And that was her story of choice for the night. About a student seducing her teacher in his office. As she went through the motions, she felt herself yearning in all the wrong spots.

We all have it. It’s a magic spot. A spot where your body sends those shivers. It’s not full on arousal yet. It’s a pang of desire. It’s that first signal of sexual desire. A gentle and yet undeniable craving of carnal pleasure. And she felt that very spot tingle, as the girl in the story took on her blonde hair and her blue eyes, and they became one.

She suddenly realized her breath had quickened, hastened. She felt her cheeks blush. She turned around. And realized that the bus was empty. The driver was focused on the road. And she was the only passenger left. Nobody else ever got on from there on out, and her stop was quite a few minutes away.

She was alone as one can be. Surrounded by darkness. Nobody would ever know. It started almost innocently. A finger feeling her nipple under the fabric of her shirt. She found it hard. And she felt even more of that tingle. She couldn’t deny it. She was horny. She wanted relief. She desired pleasure. In that very metal box cruising down empty roads. She couldn’t wait. She didn’t want to wait.

The driver was her only concern. What if he saw? What if he figured it out?
Turns out, she didn’t care. If anything, it added to the thrill of it. She would be like the girl in her story, risking it all on the altar of sex, as a Vestal virgin desecrating her vow to the Gods.

She closed her eyes, and let the fantasy take over. She didn’t even need the words on her tiny screen anymore. This was her story now. She was in the teacher’s office. And he was having his way with her. He was making her moan. He was making her shiver. His mouth felt perfect on her tiny perky nipples. No man had ever savored them to such perfection. No man had ever made them as hard as her imaginary educator and lover. She felt them hard as little pebbles, and sensitive as if they were raw nerves.

A shiver ran down her spine, and a soft gentle moan escaped her mouth. She bit her lip, trembled. She felt the warmth of embarrassment and the heat of lust glow over her. She was on fire. She couldn’t hold it off any longer. A demon owned her. And as demons are wont to do, hers wanted a sacrifice.

She unbuttoned her pants, let her hand slide inside her panties. She found herself wet, soaking even. As the bus gently rocked down the country roads, as it slowly made its way through the homes and the farms, the lover of her fantasy penetrated her. He was handsome, erotic, flawless. His cock a stereotypical sword of hard meat vanquishing her, laying claim to the core of her feminine.

He was a harsh domineering lover. She wanted to submit to him. And yet she knew that it was the lure of her beauty that was the ultimate master. He was risking his career for her, he was ready to give his entire life away for a brief chance at owning her body.

Her fingers pounded her pussy, she gave herself no pause, no respite. Her body was a storm of desire. She had given up on being silent. Her moans were loud, her hips were thrusting, as if hoping to find one more inch of flesh to swallow, she was the image of lust. Her blonde hair was covering her face, barely hiding the cherry red of her flushed cheeks, her lips open, sucking in air, gasping for breaths between the sounds of her desire.

If she had opened her eyes, two blue rocks of ice would have met the gaze of the driver.
The driver.
For, the last stop had come. And she hadn’t noticed. She hadn’t felt the bus stop. She hadn’t felt the driver call “last stop”. She hadn’t heard him walk up to her, only to find her lost in the most erotic art he had ever witnessed. And she was so lost in the pursuit of her own pleasure, that she couldn’t see him looking at her, he himself aroused to perdition by the sight, by the sound. He wasn’t touching her, and yet it’s as if he could feel her tight, wet.

He was her tense up in the chair, he saw her hips shiver, and then freeze, he saw her head recline back, he saw her eyes finally blow open, her pupils rolled back, looking at the sky – or truly the ceiling of the bus – calling for her teacher to fuck her more, begging him to stay inside of her.

As her own pleasure subsided, she saw him. Shrieked. How long had he been staring? A while. Would he tell anyone? No. “Please let me go”, she begged.
“As you wish” he smiled, pointing towards the door. “I never meant to hurt you”, he reassured her.
She discovered in him a gentle-hearted middle-aged man, recently widowed, who had proven too weak to stop her. The show of her beauty and her lust too exciting to him to give up.

She understood. Waved him goodnight as she got off the bus. She had a new friend. Or rather two. A fictional teacher and a real bus driver.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/b1w6k9/mf_fsolo_exhib_voy_the_unfinished_story