I fingered a stranger to orgasm on the back of a bus [M20/F30] [anonymous] [public] [groping] [fondling]

It was an accident. Really, it was. Putting my hand on her leg? I was just trying to adjust myself, make myself less uncomfortable in the back of the packed shuttle bus, squeezed in as I was between two strangers. And when her head snapped towards me, I grimaced, bracing myself to be called out as a creep, to be slapped in the face, to be punched in the gut.

But when she grabbed my wrist and pushed my hand back down, biting her lip and blushing, I had to pretend to cough to cover my gasp.

It was a cheap airport transfer, you know the kind. Twenty bucks for door-to-door service, a price that can’t be beat when you’re like me, trying to see the world on a shoestring. What they don’t tell you is that what would be a half-hour direct drive is really a four hour jaunt all across creation. I was near first aboard, and as more and more people piled onto the shuttle, the seats filled.

By the time the woman and her friend got on, and the rest of us passengers pretended to ignore their conversation about which seats to pick, they had no other option but to sit apart.

“Mind if I…?” she’d said, nodding at the empty seat between me and the old man, hat over his face, snoring away.

And I’d looked up, saw she was cute. Maybe a decade older than me — an actual adult, too old to be interested in a twenty-year-old child like me — but smiling with a flirty turn to her lip and a twinkle in her eye. I’d tried to imagine a cute woman like her squished in against the fat old man, and shuddered at the horror. “Here,” I’d said, sliding my way out to the aisle, “Take the corner, I don’t mind.”

She’d giggled, the brunette curls that emerged from under her beanie bouncing as the shuttle bus lurched into traffic. “How chivalrous,” she’d teased me, taking my offer without protest.

I’d shrugged as I slid into the seat next to her, pulling my limbs in, trying to avoid touching both her and the old man. “My ma taught me manners.”

“I wish more men could say the same.”

At that, I’d smiled politely and closed my eyes, trying to rest up before the upcoming craziness of the airport. Maybe I’d dozed, I don’t know. If I had, it wasn’t a deep sleep. But it was truly an accident when I went to adjust my weight and used the woman’s leg as leverage.

She was wearing jeans, and as she guided my hand back to them, her eyes locked on mine, leaving me with no ambiguity about what she wanted. No words were necessary as I brought my hand up and felt the warmth between her thighs. My fingers found the seam of her pants and pressed into it, rubbing her sex through the denim.

Her breathing quickened, her blush swelled. These cute little freckles surfaced as her cheeks reddened, just making her all the more beautiful. I was entranced by her allure, by seeing the arousal on her face, inches from mine, so out of place on this crowded bus.

She’d put my hand on her leg, but how far was too far? Maybe she just wanted a little thrill, something to pass the time.

So when I slid my hand up and popped open the button on her fly, I expected admonishment. Instead, her smile spread and welcomed me, inviting more.

My fingers ran down her shirt — a sturdy, weatherproof button-down — and under her panties. I watched her closely, wanting to see when I’d pushed too far. I swirled my fingertips down towards her heat, and I didn’t know how far I could take things before she’d pull my hand out.

And then I felt it, her pussy. She made the smallest, cutest little moan as I brushed over her pussy lips, dragged my fingers across her clit. She was wet, so wet, and I worked my fingertip in little orbits, running over her ridge, curling against her just so.

Her jaw dropped, slack, but she caught herself and pulled it back up. Her eyelids fluttered, gaze remaining on me, but on the borderline of losing focus. Whatever I was doing to her, she was loving it, riding high on ecstasy.

In the back of that shuttle, surrounded by oblivious strangers, I petted and played and teased her I don’t know how long. I was mesmerized by her arousal, and she wasn’t stopping me.

When she grabbed my shoulder and leaned into me, I thought I’d done something wrong. She writhed, tensing herself, fighting to control with her teeth gritted and eyes straining, and then I understood. The climax had stolen her breath, and she sucked in air.

I held her, rubbing her shoulders, petting her neck.

The shuttle was turning into the airport. “What’s your name?” she said.

“Billy.” I barely made a noise, so afraid was I that someone would overhear.

“Well, Billy,” she said, “You just fulfilled one of my fantasies.”

I whimpered, not sure what to do with that. I was saved from having to respond, though, because it was time for me to grab my bags and get off the bus. On the curb I started looking for my airline, but she called my name, beckoned me over. “Billy, come here.”

Her friend was with her, giving me a quizzical look.

“Billy and I just had the most fascinating conversation,” she told her.

Her friend raised her eyebrow. “Oh? What about?”

“Lot’s of things. In fact–” she reached into her satchel, pulled out a small square of paper and a pen. “I’m going to give him my phone number, and maybe he’ll call it some time.”

“Must’ve been heckuva conversation,” her friend said, bemused.

“Oh, it was.” She pressed the paper into my hand and leaned in. I thought she was going to kiss me, but her lips went past mine and landed on my ear. She whispered, “I’m going to masturbate to this so many times, you have no idea.”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/113w981/i_fingered_a_stranger_to_orgasm_on_the_back_of_a