A camelride on the bus (Tales from Frivarld 1) [mf] [exh] [voy] [cfnm] [grinding] [yoga pants]

This story takes place in a universe boringly similar to ours, with the sole exception that social norms are a bit more libertine and casual sex is seen as a legitimate way of interaction between strangers.

There still were some minuets left until my bus would halt at the bus stop at which I had just arrived. It would bring me home from a day at university which had left my head feeling like a useless globe of lead and the words of our lecturer still echoed in his monotonous voice in my head when the yellow vehicle finally pulled up in front of me. As expected, by the time the bus had arrived at my bus stop, which was situated halfway down its route, all viable seats had already been occupied and the only option left for me would as usual be to stand on the square platform located in the middle of the bus where the door was. It was designed for buggies, actually, but was normally populated by commuters like me who had been unsuccessful in the run for seats.

When we rolled away, I felt how Prof. Grafenberg's words slowly faded away and instead gave place for the distant promise of a cold beer I knew I had left in the fridge. Like a mantra, I imagined in every detail the steps from me approaching the fridge up to the first sip from my beloved dark ale, which soon would be followed by several greedy gulps. It was somewhere down that line of thought the bus yet again came to a stop and people ran in and out of it and I couldn't help to think they probably were fuelled by the same promise of something to let them rinse away the adversities of the day, maybe even a beer, that made them rush.

Then I noticed her: standing in front of me on the other side of the platform, was a girl in her late teens or early twenties with hair as black as obsidian and with luscious, red lips which she bit while she briefly shut her eyes and slightly rocked her head to a beat as if to emphasize the awesomeness of the passage in the song only she could hear in her headphones. She clearly had been out running before she entered the bus, as the area around her collarbones was shining and if one looked closely enough, one could see small pearls of sweat decorating the area above her cleavage. Judging from her figure, running wasn't something she was new to. She was wearing a greyish tank top that was just a little too big for her to fit properly and one strap was on the verge of sliding down er left arm, revealing a glimpse of the black sports bra underneath.

She had been standing near the door, facing in my direction and holding on to one of the stanchions, but seemed too engaged in her music to notice my eyes wandering over every part of her body. When she had realised there was more than enough space around her -in fact we were the only two left on the platform- she decided to instead lean sideways against one of the grab rails which surrounded us. Her new posture stressed even more the part of her body that had caught my focus the most: she was wearing a pair of black yoga pants that only went to her upper thighs and maybe more correctly should be called hot pants. The incredible tightness of the pant's elastic material didn't allow for any wrinkles and for a moment I got the impression that what I saw wasn't flesh covered in textile, but a masterfully sculptured piece of marble that had been formed along the lines of a young women's fertile hips, depicting her beautiful, small but oh so spherical butt that was separated from her hamstrings by two sharp round lines that in the middle unified to form her butt cleavage. In the front, the insertions of her quads into her pelvis formed a little hill, from which it went straight downhill towards her crotch that the artist had worked out with the deepest passion for detail, clearly depicting the parts of her vulva and mons pubis. I could distinct the two labia majora, that in direction of her navel forged into a bulk that must have contained her clitoris. Further down though, there was a long slit, whose deepness even the fabric didn't dare to explore fully.

Standing there, myself leaning on the grab rails on the other side of the square, I could feel how my jeans grew painfully tighter for every moment I inspected the reflections cast by the material covering her butt and I decided to walk up to her. In fact it wasn't so much me who decided it. For a short moment a primeval beast inside me, hungering for lust and relief, had broke free from my subconsciousness and ordered me to seize the opportunity, to seize her. As she saw me approaching her in her peripheral vision, she turned her head towards me and I could see her leaf-green eyes looking right into mine when I heard myself simply say, “Nice ass.”

She opened her eyes further and raised her eyebrows and for an instant I thought I might have been too direct on the subject, but then realised she hadn't heard me when she raised her hand and unplugged one of her in-ear headphones and again briefly raised her eyebrows as if to ask “Sorry, what did you say?”. I cleared my throat and then elaborated, “I have to compliment you on your fabulous arse. You surely must have put a lot of work into it. Would you mind if I touched it?” This time she replied with a smile and added, “Oh thank you. Yes sure, be my guest”, and sniggered as she turned around, facing in driving direction, slightly leaning over the grab rail and protruding her behind in an inviting way that shrunk my jeans even more. My right hand hovered over her right butt cheek first, and then lowered itself to caressed her firm butt. It soon was accompanied by my left hand. The passengers on the seats behind us in the rear of the bus had a good view on our activities from their slightly elevated position, or at least those how cared to watch did. Some preferred to continue to read the newspaper or do whatever they did on their smart phones.

My hands felt the contours of her precious bottom. At first with a more delicate touch, then with an increasingly firm grip until I even spread them a bit apart, as if to test if they still were properly attached to the rest of her body, massaging her deep gluteal muscles with my thumbs. I moved my hips closer to hers while doing so and it wasn't for long before the black-haired women turned around her head for a moment to see what the warm thing was she had felt touching her where my left hand had been before. The latter had moved on to explore her flat belly under the tank top, inspired by the scent of womanhood her sweaty body oozed, which I felt grow even stronger as I leaned forward to reach around her.

Some of the passengers in the front rows had in the meanwhile turned around to watch us as well and approvingly saw how my left hand moved down. With my index finger following the middle line of her abdominal muscles, I went past her navel and then, by turning my left wrist, I ventured even further down with all my fingers towards her masterpiece, first cupping her mons with my flat hand, then resting all of it over her vulva. She gave me a receipt of approval for this action in form of a soft moan. An uncontrollable urge made me begin to move my hips against her left butt cheek now as I said to her, “I really do appreciate that you let me do this, it truly feels amazing to touch your soft and yet lean body.” She intended to answer something, but was then interrupted by the sensation of my left hand that started to draw wide circles over the area where I expected her clitoris to be. The only sound leaving her blood-red lips now was another quiet, but this time more intense, moan. As she regained control of her breath again, she replied, “I really -ah- am glad to hear -mmh- that.”

The lust-ridden beast in me now commanded me to free me from the intolerable pain my jeans had induced to my cock long enough now and I happily obeyed, opened my leather belt one-handed and then pulled down my pants to my knees. The last step to freedom, my underwear, only was a formality now and I soon stood behind the girl in yoga pants with my throbbing erection in my right hand and its head was shining from all the precum I had exuded. I laid my member on her butt, pulling her hips towards me with my right hand and relentlessly drew my circles around her privates with my left as I rubbed my own genitalia up and down the fabric covering her ass in a few strokes that felt mind-blowing despite -or because of- the slight burning sensation the friction caused. When she understood what I was doing she turned her head around again and said half-mockingly, half-seriously, “Wait, you said touching, not grinding your dick on my-”, but then her piercing green eyes fell upon my penis, and I could see how she contemplated something for a moment and then said, “Well, if we are going to be kinky, we might as well do it properly.”

She retook her position leaning over the grab rail, reached back with both her hands and gripped her precum-stained yoga pants and slowly pulled them down while she wiggled her ass to assist the cumbersome clothes to slide down her firm legs to her knees. I could see a thin thread of grool that went from her peachy, red-swollen pussy all the way down to her shorts. It was sparkling in the sunlight that penetrated through the windows and when the bus driver took a more serious turn to the right, which took us somewhat by surprise, the thread swung to the left and formed a line along her left inner thigh. As expected from the view her sports outfit had provided, she neither had any panties nor was there any pubic hair to be seen: her pussy was smooth as silk and when she separated her legs a bit more to get a better stance, her inner labia spread a tiny bit more and revealed the entrance to her vagina.

Looking around, I noted that our little play now had caught the attention of even more of the passengers, as it turned out to be more interesting than some of them at first had hoped. Some even seemed to participate in their own way, as I could see that they made conspicuous rhythmic movements behind their seats with a facial expression that was even more revealing than their movements. With my left hand I grabbed the hips of the stranger with black hair that was standing in front of me with spread legs, her ass up in the air and her pussy wide open, leaking from lust and in a single, slow but steady thrust I entered her all the way. My right hand cupped her mons and began to roughly move up and down, as the state of excitement I was in now didn't allow the more delicate circular movements my hand had performed before any more. The beast took full control of me now, my mind went completely numb and the only things there were now was the sensation of her wet warmth surrounding my cock, the odour that had formed and saturated the vehicle as our bodies merged, the “FOPP” sound every time when I eagerly pounded her again and again and the occasional sound of gear change from the diesel engine. For a moment I didn't know who I was, when I was, I had never known the person I was inside and hadn't the speakers announced that we soon would arrive at “Aarau”, I wouldn't have known where I was neither.

I felt an electrifying, burning sensation building up deep inside my belly that slowly moved forward to the head of my cock. As the stranger's pussy suddenly began to rhythmically contract, accompanied not so much by passionate moans any more, but by a primordial outcry of utter relief, I couldn't have hold back any more even if I had tried to and with my last desperate pumping motions I spurted several huge volleys of my hot cum into her. For a moment my knees almost gave way, dizziness surrounding my head. Had the driver decided to do a sudden change of course at that critical moment, I probably would have keeled over, lying on the floor on my back, sprinkling my cum all over the roof and the passengers, but luckily, he didn't. For a moment I allowed myself to collapse and lay my head on her back, while still resting inside her and supporting myself with one hand gripping a stanchion.

When I slid out of her with my penis, which had gone limb out of exhaustion, she cupped one of her hands around her vulva and swirled her head around in a questioning manner and eventually seemed to have found what she was looking for when one of the passengers nearest to us offered her a paper tissue she could clean up the sticky, glue-ish seed with that had now slowly found its way out between her fingers. While we put back on our clothes, I could hear that some of the passengers that had participated and taken a bit longer finally cummed as well. As the bus began to slow down for the stream of people that would enter and exit in Aarau at any moment -to the latter I belonged myself- the girl with the obsidian hair and the ridiculously fertile-looking pelvis and I shook hands, thanked each other for the pleasure we had provided to each other -as it was the custom- and formally said good-bye to each other.

When I left the bus and headed home, I once again remembered the distant promise of a dark ale, waiting for me in the fridge at my apartment.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/33z914/a_camelride_on_the_bus_tales_from_frivarld_1_mf