Mr. Blue Eyes [MF] [Public] [Tease]

I woke to a dreary, grey Monday morning. I could barely get out of bed, and looked enviously at my floofy calico cat as she snored softly, snuggled in a crumpled nest of blankets. My weary legs carried me numbly into the shower, but the steamy hot water did little to pep up my body or mood. My mug of morning coffee tasted burnt and bitter as it scalded my throat. The metallic clink of the lock in my apartment door had a sad finality to it; the weekend was over and it was time to face the world.

The line of bored-looking office workers gripping backpacks and purses at the C24 bus stop blurred into the misty morning air and chilly fog. I clutched my coat more tightly around me and wondered if everyone felt as dead inside as I did. When did my life become a boring sequence of predictable events? Why did every day begin and end with this same, boring bus ride? Couldn’t there be more for me, something different, something better? The dejected squealing of the bus’s brakes matched my mood a little too closely.

A tiny spark of hope that the day might improve came when I managed to snag the last seat available on the bus. The narrow seat was a beacon of yellow plastic set against the row of windows, and faced another row of seats across the aisle. But in a form truly fitting for a grey Monday, that spark was quickly extinguished. The floor of the bus had a mysteriously wet and sticky patch in the way that city busses often do, and I happen to step in it just as the bus lurched around a corner. I slipped out of one of my heels and clumsily tripped on my own feet. As I began to tumble forward, my heavy shoulder bag caught the fabric at the bottom of my skirt and wrenched it up until it was hiked dangerously high around my thighs. A cool draft swirled at the apex of my legs and I cringed, realizing my fellow bus passengers had been treated to an up-close-and-personal view of everything underneath my skirt. My face burned as I righted myself, then quickly yanked my skirt down and took my seat.

Of all the days for this to happen. Yesterday was laundry day, but I had slacked off, opting for a nap and a Netflix binge instead. Thus all I had left to wear was a sexy, practically transparent hot pink lacy thong that I saved for special occasions. I cursed my Sunday afternoon laziness, then squeezed my eyes shut hoping to fend off the humiliation of having my lady bits and ass in public view. I desperately hoped that no one had noticed, yet realized the odds were slim. Miraculously, when I opened my eyes, nobody seemed to be paying me the slightest bit of attention.

I blinked in disbelief, looking around me. Had the most embarrassing moment of the year passed unnoticed? I saw no reactions. No faces gazing judgmentally or lustfully at me. Nothing at all.

Strangely, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed by this. The news headline played in my head: “Unadventurous Office Worker Titillated By The Idea That Someone Saw Her Panties on the Bus, Disappointed by Actual Reality.”

A passenger shifting in the aisle in front of me caught my attention, and something unexpected came into my field of vision: a pair of intense blue eyes. They bored into me, unblinking and fixed on me like I was the only thing worth looking at in the entire universe.

Those eyes. Cobalt blue, and alive with excitement and lust. The owner of the blue eyes sat across the aisle from me. He was around my age, early thirties, and looked every bit the normal office drone. He was good-looking in an unassuming way; and the longer I looked, the more I noticed the angular cut of his jaw, and how the sexy stubble on his face highlighted those angles. His legs were clad in khaki pants, and a button-up collared shirt completed the look. I couldn’t look away. Something about him held my attention hostage. Was it the way his shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms with a dusting of light brown hair? Or the way his legs were spread apart just enough to reveal powerful thigh muscles beneath his pants? He ran a hand through his short but thick brown hair, and I was momentarily lost, wondering how he could make such a normal gesture look so sexy. Mostly, though, it was the intensity with which he was staring at me that made my heart beat faster.

His stare slowly and almost imperceptibly evolved into a lusty smirk. The corner of his sexy mouth curled up and he regarded me with an expression that couldn’t be interpreted as anything other than deviant.

My breath caught in my throat and I gripped the plastic seat underneath me. His gaze lowered from mine, leisurely taking in my white blouse under my open coat, and my nipples, which were pert and aroused from the thorough eye fucking he was giving me. His eyes traveled a leisurely path down my body, roving over my legs, and I fidgeted, nervously pulling my skirt down again, even though it was no longer an inch out of place. I was embarrassed by the attention, and I felt vulnerable knowing that he’d seen a part of my body I normally saved for my lovers. However, the moment I touched my skirt his eyes flew back up to mine, and he quickly shook his head.

“No,” he mouthed. He continued to shake his head in a measured way. Heat radiated from his gaze, and I imagined him behind me, his hot breath tickling my ear as he whispered the word “no.” Somehow he had power over me, over my pleasure and my response, even though he hadn’t even spoken to or touched me.

What he did next made me blush a thousand shades of pink.

He slid his hands to his thighs and mimicked hiking something up. I blinked, unwilling to believe what I just saw him do, and the implication behind it. He wanted me to pull my skirt up so he could see me. So he could imagine whatever sensual things he wanted to do to me, and with me, starting with what I was keeping hidden under my modest business attire. His stare was a challenge, a dare. He licked his lips, giving me an unambiguous preview of his scorching hot thoughts.

I was aghast. Had he forgotten that we were on a public bus? He smirked harder when he saw my expression.

“Look around,” he motioned with his hands, his body language conveying everything he wanted to say. He gestured to the people standing in the aisle and sitting next to me. Everyone was absorbed on the phones, or trying to catch a few minutes of rest with their eyes closed. Most people were wearing headphones. No one was paying us the slightest bit of attention.

His hands moved back to his thighs and his expression grew more intense. He curled his fingers against his thighs, and I could see his body tighten in anticipation, the muscles of his chest growing taut. He was smoldering. The force of the desire radiating out from him sent a shiver up my spine and I parted my lips, beginning to pant silently. What was he doing to me? He again mimicked pulling up some clothing.

What else could I do in the face of this anonymous stranger’s blisteringly sexual request? I complied.

I slowly slid my hands down my thighs until my fingertips rested at the edge of my skirt, then curled them underneath the soft fabric, sliding it up an inch, then two, then a few more. Not so high that I was indecent, but short enough that I would certainly elicit judgmental stares from Doris, the boss’s secretary, if I wore something of that length to work.

He leaned back against his seat and exhaled. His eyes were hungry as they ran over me, lingering first on my calves and then slowly moving up to my thighs, traveling further north to my tight nipples and coming back gaze into my eyes. That blue, that ocean of blue. I watched him breathe and saw that his breaths were growing shorter. He was intoxicating. I felt myself growing even wetter when I realized that I was what intoxicated him.

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the existential suffering of another boring Monday morning, like all of those before it, or the fact that this random stranger had gotten me more aroused in five minutes than I’d been in months. Or maybe it was the power I suddenly felt, that this stranger had given me. The power to take my own vulnerability and launch it back at him like a living, breathing thing.

I spread my legs, and slowly moved my fingers over one of my breasts, brushing over my erect nipple. Once again, I glanced around us, and no one was paying the slightest bit of attention. No one, that is, except the sexy, now desperately horny stranger across from me. He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled deeply, then resumed staring at me. His eyes tracked from my soft inner thighs up to where my thumb and forefinger were now pinching my nipple.

I squeezed my legs together, trying to stem the aching I felt as he slid his hand over his pants. He curled his fingers, causing the muscles of his forearms to ripple and flex. As he pressed down on the fabric of his pants he revealed the outline of an extremely hard, thick cock. I could see the head clearly, and a bulge that looked like a very full set of balls. He looked up at me, blue eyes blazing, in what was clearly an invitation for me to gaze at him as he had gazed at me

I gasped. I couldn’t help it. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to launch myself at him, across the aisle of the C24 bus, and get on my knees in front of him. I imagined unzipping his pants and wrapping my fingers around his warm, thick dick, and licking the drops of pre-cum off his fat, mushroom head. I could almost feel him shuddering under my touch, and becoming putty in my hands as I caressed him with my tongue and hands, drawing out moan after moan.

Somehow, I understood that he knew exactly what I was thinking, because the heat of his gaze turned from smoldering into raging inferno.

And that’s when I heard it. The bus driver was announcing my stop.

I looked at him, panicked and crestfallen that our interaction was about to be over. As I stood up he startled as if from a daze. He didn’t have time to react as I walked towards the open bus door. I glanced back at him briefly before descending the steps, and I could feel the heat of his gaze burning into me.

I don’t think I caught my breath until several hours later. Obviously I couldn’t concentrate on work. All I could think about was Blue Eyes and how a ten-minute interaction with a stranger had tipped my world on its axis.

When I got home from work that evening, I barely managed to get my heels off before flinging myself on my bed and desperately bringing myself to a climax. My fingers became his and I moaned, writhing with need for him. I came again and again, until I was spent. But the orgasms barely made a dent in what I wanted, and didn’t have.

My mind spiraled into a thousand scenarios. What if he was on the bus tomorrow? What if I had grabbed his hand and dragged him off the bus with me? Would I have the courage to do something like that? Something so bold and out of character? Was he even single? I was not about to become someone’s side chick. Exactly how fast could I remove his pants and just how hard would I come when he pushed me up against a wall and fucked my brains out?

I fell into a restless sleep, unsure about what the future would bring. But of one thing, I was absolutely certain: somehow, out of the blue, everything had changed.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/dsyfkd/mr_blue_eyes_mf_public_tease