Synopsis: Working stiff gets on the bus every day and fantasizes about a woman on the bus. Eventually she seduces him right there in the back of the bus. She turns out to be she-male.
Every day I looked forward to getting on the bus because I knew she'd be on it. Since the first time I took this bus, and saw her, I changed my schedule so that I could see her.
She always sat near the front of the bus. I'd get on, give my fare to the driver, turn, and there she was. Always two rows back, on the right. I was always startled, even though I knew she'd be there. Her beauty knocked the wind out of me. Our eyes would always meet, I'd smile, then move on, and sit a few rows behind her.
I wanted to sit next to her. To feel her long hair brush against my arm as I studied her long legs, or made polite conversation. But the bus was always practically empty. It would be presumptuous to sit next to her.
She was tall. With beautiful auburn hair that flowed down to her buttocks in thick soft waves that played with the light. Her soft European features, with high cheekbones, full lips and blue eyes were always stunning. She tended to dress in a conservative business suit, not too racy, but incredibly sexy, with high heels and understated jewelry. Every time I walked past her, I could catch a whiff of her perfume. So delicate. Light.
One day, as I waited for the bus, I was thinking about her. Actually, I thought about her every day. But, just the day before, she and I exchanged a knowing glance. You know, the kind of look that says "Oh. Hi. You again.
Nice to see you." All in a look. Not a word was said. But the glance said it all. On this day, I wanted to say hi to her. To get more familiar.
Then, maybe I could actually, one day, presume to sit next to her.
But, I probably should have mentioned this, I was married. It was all just a flirtatious game for me. I knew nothing could ever happen. I couldn't cheat on my wife. I loved her. But, then again, I could definitely flirt, and imagine I was having sex with this gorgeous woman. It was safe and harmless.
As the bus arrived, I got out my fare, climbed aboard, handed the fare to the driver and turned around. I was stunned by her again... as always. She was wearing a white suit, with a soft white silk blouse underneath, accented with pearl necklace and earrings. Her hair was pulled around in front, flowing over her bosom and into her lap. I looked her in the eye, smiled and said "Oh. Hey" trying to sound casual and pleasantly surprised to see her again.
Damn! That sounded so trite. Couldn't I think of something interesting to say? What a doof!
She smiled at me, and raised her eyebrows in recognition. "Hi Ho."
"Yeah." I laughed. "Off to work we go." And I walked past her and took the seat directly behind her.
I was relieved to see that my attempt at familiarity wasn't a total loss. In fact, I thought it went rather well. I rode to work, as usual, trying to read the paper, but was constantly distracted by the smell of her intoxicating perfume. I'd look up and see her hair, or the side of her face through the seats. When we got to her stop, she got up turned to me and said "See you tomorrow," offering me a genuine smile.
I instantly melted inside. "Don't work too hard!" I offered in return, continuing my barrage of hideously lame comments. But she smiled anyway, and walked off the bus. I had done it. She and I were becoming friends.
This went on through the rest of the week. We'd smile, and offer banalities when we saw each other. But I loved every second of it. Her voice was sweet music to my ears. I longed to savor every syllable, to taste her words.
When the weekend came around, I found myself thinking about her. Thinking about how it would feel to walk down the street with my arm around her -- to feel her hair falling against the inside of my arm. To smile at her, kiss her. To be the envy of every man around. To be the one who captured the tall gorgeous woman.
On Monday, as I got on the bus, and turned to see her, she wasn't there. I wondered, "she can't be gone!" Maybe she just missed the bus. But then I saw her, in the back row of the bus. She was peeking around the large bus seat, looking down the aisle at me and smiling.
I was momentarily confused, our morning ritual had been broken. I'm sure she saw it on my face, and I headed to the back of the bus, still carrying a curious look on my face. As I got back there, she moved her bag, indicating that I should sit next to her. I complied and asked "Hey. What's the deal?
You aren't in your regular seat."
For the first time, we were sitting side by side, talking. I was taking it all in. Inhaling everything about her. "Bad girls have to sit at the back of the bus." She winked and gave a wry smile. She looked so sexy right then, that I began to get a hard on immediately.
"What have you done that was so 'bad'?" I asked.
"It isn't anything I've done." She answered, with her head playfully lowered, looking up at me like a sad puppy. "It's what I'm about to do."
I started to respond with "What do y..." when she reached down with her hand and began to rake her painted nails across my crotch. "Uhh. Mmmm. What..."
And with her other hand placed a finger on my lips shushing me.
I didn't know how to respond. I hadn't been touched by a woman in years... unless you counted my wife. But you can't count that, because that's always so familiar. This was different. Exciting. A mysterious woman -- I didn't even know her name -- touching me for the first time. I was unable to object. I think men are never able to object to the attentions of a beautiful woman.
I just looked around to see if anybody could see. I didn't want to get caught, or to have my wife find out. I made a feeble attempt to stop her.
This was so unexpected. I didn't know her. I wanted her, but that was fantasy. This was supposed to be reality. It was like my two worlds were colliding, my fantasies invading treacherously into the real world, into the bus on my way to work. My attempt to stop her was unsucessful. I couldn't stop my fantasy from coming true.
She leaned over and placed a kiss on my neck and grabbed my growing dick firmly through my pants, sending shivers down my spine. Her hair was resting its weight on my shoulder and I filled my lungs with her scent. Her breath was warming my neck and I grew increasingly uncomfortable – what if somebody noticed – and squirmed in my seat.
"Mmm, you feel so good." She moaned quietly into my ear, her lips brushing against my sensitive lobes. She pulled my cock out of my pants, releasing it from it's increasingly restrictive environment, and began to tickle it with her long painted fingernails.
Every nerve in my body was hyper sensitive and my mind was racing. Here was this woman. The woman I wanted so badly. Or, the woman I thought I wanted, in my juvenile fantasies. She was getting it on with me right here on the bus. My mind was racing. I wanted her. I wanted this. But I didn't! I couldn't! Not here on the bus!
She ran her finger down from my lips, followed by a kiss, then onto my chest, again followed by a kiss, and then down to my cock. As her beautiful head bent down to take my dick in her mouth, I peeked down the aisle of the bus to see if anybody was noticing. Nope. Then, her warm wet mouth surrounded my dick and took it all the way down the shaft! Ohhhh yes! My wife never took my dick in her mouth anymore. I wanted this so badly.
I stroked her hair with my hand. This beautiful long hair that I had coveted for the last several weeks was now in my fingers. Long dark curls slipped through my fingers as I ran my hand down the length of her spine. In and out, she began to stroke my dick with her tongue, and her shimmering hair bounced up and down.
"Oh baby. Yes. Come in my mouth. I want you come." She practically begged for it.
I was glad she wanted it because I was ready to explode. The thrill of the encounter reached a climax as the bus came to its next stop, letting several more passengers on board. Just as I was ready to come in her mouth, I could see some passengers coming down the aisle toward the back of the bus.
I exploded! I was frantic to get it all out. Huge bursts of my semen exited my cock as the passengers approached. I was going to get caught with my dick in her mouth, and she wasn't getting up! She continued to moan and sigh appreciatively as she swallowed my load. She was sucking hard, pulling every drop out of my cock as I was involuntarily thrusting my dick into her. It had to stop now!
Then, in one motion, she pulled her head off my cock and pulled my shirt over my dick, then leaned back in her chair, calm as can be. Just then, a passenger came into the back row and took one off the seats opposite us. He didn't notice a thing as he sat down. We were just two more passengers on the bus to him. I couldn't believe how close that was! I didn't think she even knew how close we were to getting caught when she pulled up.
I turned to give her a teasing look that said "Geez that was close!" and she just smiled casually and grabbed my hand in hers. My first reaction was that she was holding my hand as a sweet gesture, but I quickly realized that she had more in mind as she took my hand to her crotch and started rubbing herself with my hand.
She was crazy, I thought. We weren't alone anymore, but she still wanted to get it on anyway. This was a thrill seeker! Then she left my hand in her lap, and I continued to rub without further prompting from her. She made some swift movements with her hands, and before I realized what was happening, she had her undies down at her ankles. She swooped them up with her foot, took them in her hand, and swiftly placed them in my shirt pocket.
Their musty smell filled my nostrils. I was beginning to enjoy her game immensely as I casually looked over to see if our fellow passenger noticed anything.
I decided to take the lead by moving my hand under the hem of her skirt, working my way up her leg to her pussy. Her legs were so smooth and soft as I watched my hand disappear up her skirt. Then I felt something in my way.
Something that shouldn't be there. She had something under her skirt. As I felt it up, I realized it must be a dildoe. I thought that this gal was amazing, getting on a bus with a dildoe up her skirt. Then, as I worked around it, I came to another conclusion.
It wasn't a dildoe. It was a cock. Her cock. I had been feeling up her cock! I froze. This wasn't possible. She was too beautiful. I didn't just have sex with a guy. I knew that much! I sat stunned for what seemed an eternity, trying to come to any other logical conclusion.
She interrupted my thoughts "How do you like my pussy?" And she began directing my hand again, rubbing her crotch into my motionless hand.
I looked at her face, trying to reconcile the discrepancy. There was no doubt about it. She was still the gorgeous woman I had fantasized about.
Her smile was still just as mesmerizing. Her figure was still breathtaking.
And she smiled at me, a smile that I couldn't resist – warm and sexual – as she thrust her pelvis forward sexually into my hand.
I wanted her. I was repulsed, yet turned on by the depravity of it. Nobody would know. I wanted to get this woman off. That's all I thought about.
And I took her cock into my hand and stroked it. I was exploring another person's cock for the first time, watching her face for what pleased her. I watched as her skirt pushed up with her cock growing more erect. With each thrust of her hips, her skirt protruded more, and I began to work into a rhythm with her, working with her motions. She was closing her eyes, licking her lips and groaning with pleasure. I thought for sure the guy next to us would hear, but he didn't seem to notice.
She was really getting into it, thrashing about the seat, thrusting her hips and making lusty moans and groans. Her cock head was wet and I felt it lubricate my hand. She was sliding in and out of my hand. I wanted to see it. It felt so big and hard, and I couldn't believe it wasn't some kind of trick. I continued to stroke her and watched her skirt bouncing up and down.
I stopped for a moment and pulled her skirt up further, just so that I could see her pole. There it was. Dark and hard under her skirt. I wrapped my hand around it again and watched as her cock slid into my palm. It was beautiful. It seeemed so natural. Without thinking, I bent over and kissed her on the lips, tender and loving. She smiled, knowing that she was irresistable to me now and said "Take my cock baby. Stroke it until I come in your hand."
Such forceful and masculine words coming from this tender beauty... I began to stroke her furiously and whisper obscenities in her ear. My own cock got hard again in the process. It was so dangerous, so forbidden, this kinky sexual act on the bus, in broad daylight. We were both bursting with sexual energy as her length slid through my hand repeatedly. My hand was a pussy and she was pounding it, in and out, repeatedly.
"I'm going to come. I'm ready. Here it is." She was whispering to me. She was staring me straight in the eyes. She looked so different just then.
Needy. Like she was relying on me desperately, pleading me to let her come in my hand. She was at my mercy. I think I fell in love with her right there.
Then it happened. Her cum sprayed all over her skirt as she closed her eyes, lost in the feeling. I had done it. I had masturbated another cock for the first time. I had semen on my hands. Her semen. She took my hand in hers and brought my fingers to her mouth and licked the cum off. Slowly, she inserted each finger between her lips and sucked it off. She sat there sucking my fingers, and her cock was proudly displayed under her skirt.
"That was good" she purred. Then she stood up, straightened her skirt over her cock. I could see the tell-tale bump revealing the strange beauty of this creature under her skirt. She gave me a wink, then got off the bus.
Without another word, she was gone.
It took the rest of day to regain my composure. I just couldn't get over the fact that I had had sex on the bus, and with a she-male! I didn't get any work done that day.
I never saw her again. For the following month, I continued to look hopefully down the bus at the passengers, needing to see her face again. But I never did. I've spent many sleepless nights wondering what happened to her. Sometimes I even wonder if it was all a dream -- it seemed so unreal -- but I know I felt her in my hand. I know I smelled her soft hair. I can still feel her lips on my cock. Perhaps, for the rest of my life, I will dream of her, the "girl" on the bus.