It has been a long day and I am standing alone, waiting at the bus stop in a warm light summer rainstorm. I hear you approach from behind me, soft footsteps plodding on wet concrete. As you pass I catch a faint hint of your perfume or deodorant, I’m not sure but it’s mixed with the smell of rain and of the grime of the bus stop.
You stand across from me, leaning against the opposite wall of the small covered bus stop bench. Obviously, you just came from the gym. The attire gives it away, white socks white and pink sneakers, red shorts with a white stripe down the side and an inseam just long enough to cover the curve of toned tight glutes and a dark grey t-shirt. A small black backpack sling over one shoulder. The one leg slightly bent, the opposite straight, hip slightly cocked out to the side. Glancing over your shoulder at me, you give a slight smile, it’s as if you are pointing your hip at me. I smile back and you look off down the street away from looking for the bus. Your clothes wet, but not drenched cling to the accents of the curves of your body. Your t-shirt clings to the tips and sides of your perky breasts and I can see clearly your cold hard nipples poking out, pressing on the fabric. The wet fabric also hugs and accentuates the flat muscles of your stomach and clings to the hip bone thrust towards me. I watch a tiny bead of water slowly glide down from the hem of your shorts, down the back of your leg to your ankle sock. An image of tracing that path with my tongue courses through my mind. You chance another glance over your shoulder, this time checking me out. I watch your eyes move over me from head to toe. Your subtly bite your lip and look away again, searching for a sign of the bus. The rain picks up in intensity with a slight chilling wind. I see goosebumps instantly cover your partially dried/partially glistening skin. I ask if you are cold. You shake your head no. But I can see you now start to shiver. I take off my light over my light jacket and walk toward you. At first you look back at me with a startled look. Before you can respond, I drape it over your shoulders and I catch a hint of that sweet fragrance. “Thanks,” you say and before I step away you step back into me. “You’re warm. Stand there for a second, I’m freezing,” you say with a quick sharpness of someone chilled to the bone.
Your tight toned body pressed into mine, my arms seem to move on their own, slowly confidently wrapping themselves around you. I feel you wobble a bit and you press back into me, sinking into my warmth. My hands naturally tighten their grip on you. A small sigh escapes your mouth. Your scent is overwhelming, the sweet musk of sweat, perfume and rain permeates my senses….intoxicating me. My head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, just behind and below your ear I breath deep. You writhe in my arms, slithering against me. Unbeknownst to me my hands have begun exploring your body as in was mesmerized by the aromas. Sliding up and down your sides, I feel the ripe perkiness of your breast and the defined bump of your hip bones. We are grinding against each other at this point. I gently kissing your neck. You are reaching behind and pulling me closer. One hand rests on your breast and the other slides down inside your red shorts, cupping you. Pressing against your sex. Your dripping wet with lustful anticipation, soaking through your panties, you put a hand on mine and start rubbing yourself with it. Your other hand begins to unfasten my belt and unzip my pants. The throbbing head of my rock hard cock pushing out of the top of underwear is a surprise to your eager hand and you deftly pull it out, squeezing it you barely audibly beg “put it in me, fuck my little hole baby.” I swiftly pull the gym shorts and panties down in one motion. You turn, placing both hands on the plexiglass walls of the bus stop and chance a glance back at me, gently biting your bottom lip, eyes half opened blinded by the greedy lustfull primal need to be filled and fucked like the wild animal you are. I run the head of my dick up and down the slit of pussy gently teasing the head into your hole and pressing it against your clit. Covering my tip with the juices slowly leaking out of your pussy, I slide it inside. You moan. I grunt as the tight folds of your flesh caress the bulging head of my cock. You arch your back and my dick presses along the walls of that tight little hole. Slowly, rhythmically I start sliding in and out. Each time a little deeper, a little harder. My hands are wandering. Tracing patterns across your back, to your hips across your ass up to your shoulders. One hand slides around and cups a breast and holds it tightly stopping in from bouncing from the thrusts of my cock. My other hand grabs the back of your neck. I increase the intensity of my thrusts. You hands are having trouble supporting you, my thrusts are so strong you almost lose balance and fall over but you seemed suspended between my cock and my strong arms holding you up. Fucking you…part man part woman part primal vortex of sexual energy…you and I flow into state of wanton passion and sex. There is no you or me just this act of fucking and being fucked. There is no bus, no bus stop, no street just an eternal spiral of motion…Building in intensity like a train about to exit a tunnel…there is light, an energy, far off rapidly approaching, the intensity of it causes vibrations to ripple the very fabric of this existence until finally it bursts through the exit in a glorious explosion of light and sound… “FUCK!!” we cry out in an orgasmic chorus. From the corner of our eyes we notice the bus driving by splashing water from the puddles in the street as it passes. Passengers mostly oblivious but a few lonely faces pressed against the window watching as we slump, sliding against each other into a clump conjoined flesh on the wet sidewalk.
Those lonely faces continue to stare out their window into the worsening storm, wondering if what they saw when they past the last stop was real or just a projection of then fantasies they harbor in their own minds.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jmcclg/mf_the_bus_stop