Crazy Bus

As the bus came to a screeching halt, everyone tumbled forward in their own demise. Even I, whom was already standing in the corner reserved for wheelchairs, against one of those tall cushions, wasn’t spared when a girl came slamming into my chest. For such an accident, I wouldn’t think in the direction of ‘Ooo! Boobs!’ It was just a pitiful sight to see folks dishing cuss words as they recovered their balance.

But not only was the girl unable to stand upright from the crowd pushing behind her, her groin was pinned against one of my protruding knees. My bag, which I had initially stood over, had slid just forward enough to get stuck under that very cushion, without space for me to pry it free.

As more passengers boarded that bus full of weirdly angst people, she tucked her elbows into my chest to maintain a respectable distance.

‘Sorry’, she whispered while looking down, fully aware of how awkward it would be if she looked at me. I mean, we would be close enough to kiss. The movements of the overcrowded bus made things more embarrassing as it jerked and jutted, likely to the inexperience AND frustrated mood of the driver. He is after all, still getting a dressing down from those standing right outside his ‘safe space’.

‘Sorry sorry’, I heard two more of those words before hands slid down my thigh (that her pussy was grinding on), clearly wanting to create some space between us. Unruly passengers finally tore the last straw when her face squished into my chest, almost hugging me at the waist.

It was then I felt my knee getting very warm, even though she wore a long dress. A few minor adjustments on her end spread her feet wider to properly plant her warm groin on me, while people alighted and boarded without helping us feel better.

Suddenly, she moved an elbow up and down, at the same time I felt a rubbing motion on my groin. This sweet smelling girl was actually masturbating me? I put a hand on her forearm to check and was immediately redirected to her hip, where I warily slid over her ass.

No one else could look down, let alone spot us. She had slowly picked her chin up to let me take a good look – at a pair of mesmerised eyes. Dreamy, I would call them, as she soaked in the autonomous tiptoeing-knee-raising act that went between her legs.

Her arms went around my butt and sleight my phone out, for me to unlock, so she could punch her number in. A few more minutes of grinding later, the atmosphere in the bus relaxed and she found footing.

She proceeded to front-sling her backpack, before turning around to lean her back on me. One of her hands was still stroking me, but the other had wrapped my free hand around her belly. I took a leap of faith and reached further along her pantyline, till I located the centre of her womanhood, to keep massaging that spot till she pressed the bell.

‘Text me’, she breathed on her way to the exit, leaving me with a smile as she watched my bus continue on the journey. Well, we met after work and managed to steal a moment to hook up, at the stairwell of her office that was empty by then.

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