Coming home

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Coming homeIt was a typically dreary overcast Friday in London. Brooding grey skies stifling the verve from the shoppers, workers and loafers populating the city centre. I left work early, making my excuses, promises to finish irrelevancies that will be long forgotten by Monday, were enough to secure my release.I sat on the overcrowded bus, a sea of warm sweaty flesh struggling to breathe beneath a variety of raincoats and winter wear. The air was palpably moist, barely enough oxygen within to feed the lungs of all its disgruntled occupants. The older, posher woman perched next to me fidgeted and flinched every time our bodies came near each other. Her repulsion caused me to fantasize on how he she might have fallen from grace to end up on this lowly bus surrounded by us commoners. I shuffled away from her, focusing on the hundreds of people milling endlessly around the tarmac, shoppers, workers, loafers, who could tell, simply human traffic cascading into each other over and over again. The bus slowed to a crawl, bumper to bumper, inching forward a car length at a time. I stared intently into the windows of the cafes, bars, shops and gyms looking for any kind of distraction from this daily torture. We pulled alongside a yoga class, lycra covered ladies of leisure straining their already immaculate bodies into incredulous positions. They looked like human statues, all frozen in time by some hidden force, the only clue they were living, the occasional quivering leg on a lady less versed in Vinyasa. I smiled brazenly to myself, remembering the last time my own leg had quivered like that. I too had been frozen momentarily like a statue, but had been writhing, grinding, riding rhythmically for a good half hour previously. I was just as sweaty too! Hmmm! I bit down on my lip, I shouldn’t think about things like that on the bus, with my sexual metabolism as high and unstoppable a force that it is, thoughts of that nature undoubtedly lead to an urgent desire to be satisfied. Maybe the torment of prolonging the inevitable orgasm that would be required to satiate my pangs of lust, til the end of my commute might actually make it all the more pleasurable? Ahh damn you fate, the old hippy yoga teacher was now positioning himself behind the lady of the quivering leg and gently placing his hands on her hips, subtly forcing her body into the correct pose. That’s what I must look like when a man gets into the correct position behind me I thought, suddenly unable a giggle, spluttering my laughter into my hand. I pretended to read something lol hilarious on my phone, my fear of public faux pas’ very much getting the better of me.The bus jerked forward again, goodbye gropey yogi, you did make me chuckle and even blush a little. I undid my coat a little to air out of my overheating body, somehow irking my upper class neighbour in the process. Ugh, back to the window. I glanced out again, a woman at the bust stop was checking herself out in her make up mirror. You look fine girl, I thought to myself, go get em! Whoever it is you’re meeting is gonna be more than happy with the effort you’ve made today. Apparently her standards were higher than mine, she reached for her lipstick, deliberately circling her mouth with the pink stick over and over again. Good god, I think I have a one track mind, a mind that was now flashbacking relentlessly bornova escort to the first time I’d let a man really fuck my mouth. He’d spent a fair amount of time circling my mouth his long pink stick, smearing my lips and cheek with his sticky white precum. I laughed out loud again, this time not caring about my stroppy neighbour or anyone else on the bus for that matter. We left the bus stop with yet more passengers sardined into the wheeled tin, the temperature rising again, the sweat almost becoming dense enough to be visible. I slid my jacket of my shoulders, I didn’t really want to expose my silk shirt to these conditions but the heat was becoming unbearable. We were outside a pub now, stopped at a traffic lights, I peered in past the curtains. Two men took it in turns to approach the pool table, widening their stances and bending over the green felt. Stroking their long slender wooden cues between their fingers before taking aim and slamming their sticks forcefully forward, screams of delight following when the entrances of the table were breached, the mouths of the pockets penetrated swiftly and expertly. Jesus I think I have a problem, a pool game can drive my desire into the red, why does everything look so sexual today?I loosened the top 2 buttons on my blouse, a desperate attempt to let some air find its way to my body and cool the spiraling lava that was erupting inside me and bursting through the pores on my face turning it blood red. I wished I’d worn stockings today, my flesh coloured tights were thin but didn’t offer the chance of a gentle breeze tickling the insides of my thighs and whistling between my legs. I tried to open my legs a little hoping for a little respite from the hornyness gripping my mind and working its way up and down my body. This seemed to be the final straw for the aristocrat next to me, she “hmphed” her disgust and got up. Shielded by the passengers blocking the aisles I seized my opportunity and did my best to surreptitiously remove my tights. I stood up slightly, hovering my bum a few inches above my seat and in one smooth movement grabbed my skirt at the middle of my thighs with each hand, yanking it up just enough to slip my hands under and rip my tights downwards in one fell swoop. So far so good but my tights had only made it as far as my knees. I sat back down on my seat and slipped my shoes off my feet one at a time. I grabbed the top of my tights that were still embarrassingly hanging around my knees, the gusset chaining my legs together in an awkward pose. A large backside landed on the seat next to me with a thud that knocked me off balance. Noticing his clumsiness the rotund man turned to me apologising profusely, followed by a gawping stare at the tights now stuck betwixt my legs thanks to his jolt. I smiled back and mutter that’s ok, as I reached down and slid the tights off my feet and scooped them into my bag. I tried to discretely climb back into my shoes but didn’t quite make it, forcing me to reach down again and horn my heels into my pumps, while my new neighbour gleefully scanned my legs up and down blissfully unaware of the fact that I could see his eyes feasting on me.I wondered if he could tell that I was quite dramatically turned on at this point? I wondered if that was why he had forced himself passed the other commuters to take his seat next escort bornova to me? I tried not to think about it and turned back to the window looking for an unsexy distraction to calm my racing pulse. No such luck. We were stopped outside a laundrette, the machines were spinning and rumbling away jolting my mind back to my first fumblings at masturbation as a tween, I’d often sat atop the machine at home faithfully waiting for a magic orgasm to be produced! I tried again to push the sexy thoughts from my mind but the bus jerked into motion again and suddenly the vibrations of the engine seemed harder, felt heavier and were rattling the window pane and coursing through my seat. I began to squirm, knowing that it was inevitable that the vibrations would now set of a chain reaction inside me, I would feel the familiar trickle of juice coat the inside of my pussy, then dribble from my lips and saturate my panties, leaving me damp for the rest of my journey home. That would be followed by the inevitable compulsion to play with myself to conclusion once I was safely behind closed doors.That was a still a good half hour away and I now felt even more trapped and squished into the bus by this large lecherous man sat next to me. I say lecherous because as I was looking out the window I had felt him lean over to look as well, his face coming so close to mine I could feel his heavy breathing on my neck and cheek. I turned back from the window and saw that of course he wasn’t looking at the scenes of London street life, he was firmly fixed on staring between the buttons on my blouse. I felt further exposed by this, I felt that he must know by now that I was feeling intoxicated by my building lust, at least that I was squirming uncomfortably. I focused on the window again, desperate for a pretense to leave, or any kind of disgusting distraction to deflate my dirty mood. The heavens opened at that point and simultaneously men and women up and down the street reached into their bags for all kinds of phallic shaped umbrellas, big black ones, small pink ones, short ones, fat ones. I felt the blood rush to my face again, my body stiffening as I prayed nobody was noticing the change in me.The man had, or he had definitely realised that I was not stopping his ever increasing advances towards me, pressing his soft squishy skin against my arm, his big round thighs tight against my little legs. He seemed to be engineering a chance for his forearm to “accidentally” brush against my breast, and I seemed ever more powerless to stop him. The moisture dribbling onto my panties was being mimicked by an ever so ticklish bead of sweat running from behind my ear, over my collarbone and freefalling towards my bra.I gasped as I pondered whether it was even my sweat or not. I slapped my hand to my chest like I was swatting a fly and felt the moisture collect in my hand. This was unbearable, I searched the window again, refusing to make eye contact with the man. A mechanical digger was pounding into the tarmac, hammering away like a jackhammer, pushing my mind to another flashback fantasy of being taken pneumatically in doggystyle. The vibrations tore through the bus, visibly moving the seats. How much longer can I last, how much more stimulus would the city throw at me? I promised myself if I saw one more tantalising thing I would jump bornova escort bayan off the bus and walk the rest of the way home. We passed by a corner shop with fresh fruit outside, god don’t look at the bananas I screamed at myself silently in my mind. Then a doughnut shop, why is that even sexy I thought, struggle to maintain control. Finally we pulled into a bus stop aside a fancy French restaurant, I watched intently as a waiter sliced the top off a bottle of champagne. Oh no. That was it, too much for me to take, I had to get out of there, get of that bus and find somewhere to pleasure myself immediately or I was going to come in the middle of all these people I have to see everyday. I sprang to my feet and asked to be excused by my large neighbour. He took his time to get up and rather unchivarously stood next to his seat, groin forward, forcing me to squeeze myself past him while he got to feel the entirety of my body, my leg, thigh and bum pressing passed his outstretched groin and belly. I felt his hand grip the side of my thigh and arse as he he said sorry and helped me passed. By the time I reached the door the bus had pulled off again, a few more seconds I thought and I’m out of here. Standing up intensified the vibrations, the jolts, the jerks, the bumps, every motion hitting me harder and harder than before. So close just hold on and I won’t be reduced to wailing and writhing in pleasure on packed commuter bus.Finally the bus roughly halted at the next stop, I rudely pushed my way past the people trying to board and tottered of into the distance, anywhere away from that bus would do. The rain was pouring down hard now and my silk blouse was not only ruined but plainly see through by now, my hard nipples and areola exposed to the dim light of the grey afternoon. I sprinted round a corner and into an alleyway, propped myself against the wall behind a wheelie bin and lifted my skirt. The shock of the cool air and heavy rain against my knickers drove me beyond the edge, my hand dived inside my panties but I was barely able to touch my aching pussy before my orgasm boiled over and my lungs burst into song. I screamed in delight for a second, then felt my leg quiver exactly like the yoga girl’s had a the beginning of my journey. I blissfully ground myself against my fingers, finally free to let the unbridaled sexual energy course through my veins and out into the afternoon air. I must’ve been fixed in place by the sheer ecstasy for more than a minute. Regaining my senses slowly as waves of joy still swelled inside me, I giggles and sighed out loud, following it with a fuck yes, thank god for that. I was drenched through, from my hair to my blouse, to my little panties, beads of moisture pouring down my bare legs. I leaned back against the wall and let all the sensations rush through me, over me, out of me, revelling in the freedom of the street and thankful to be out of the constraints of that bus. I laughed and smiled to myself, thinking how wild my life can be, how lucky I am to get away with this kind of thing, my secret sex life, my privacy always somehow remaining intact. As my my mind finally cleared, I fixed my skirt back downwards, pulled my coat closed and slipped a wooly beanie onto my head to cover my soaking legs. Perfectly satisfied, physically and also satisfied with my crazy self, I confidently strode out of the alleyway. I turned back onto the main road and caught a glimpse of the big man from the bus, he was scouting down the side streets and alleyways, was he looking for me? Thank god I’d got away from him and had my pleasure in piece!

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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