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Oh, god. Had I agreed to this? Somehow I felt as if I had, but I didn't remember saying yes. Still, my whole body was screaming yes. It's not cheating, I told myself. Not to let someone watch. Not a stranger. I'll never see him again; no one will have to know.
In spite of everything, I was more excited now than before. And there the stranger was, watching, coaxing me with his hand over mine. If I just closed my eyes, it might get easier, and so I did. Then my fingers disappeared into the warm folds of my pussy and immediately found the throbbing nub of my clit. It felt so good to touch it now that I sucked in air through my teeth. I was going to come right away.
The stranger's voice came coaxingly from the dark. "Yes. That's it, you sweet little slut."
Slut. I couldn't deny it. I was masturbating on a bus for a stranger. He was watching me get myself off. I was turning him on, and I liked it. I liked it a lot. And though he must have known how embarrassing it was, he liked it, too. Maybe he liked it because he knew it was embarrassing me.
I rubbed small circles with my fingers and it made me crazy. My hips started to rock. And at the very moment I was too enraptured to stop, he took my free hand and put it on his cock. He was so rigid underneath his slacks that I couldn't help but grip it. I shouldn't have gripped it, but I did. I was too close. The extra arousal that having a hard cock in my hand made me buck my hips. Stroking a stranger's shaft in one hand and my own cunt with the other, the orgasm broke over me. My eyes rolled back. My hips jerked up three times. His cock jumped in my hand in tandem with my own jerking. I saw stars behind my eyelids as I strained to keep quiet, but I know my face scrunched with the effort, and I nearly drew blood biting my lip to hold back the scream.
That's when he leaned over and started kissing me. I knew it was wrong. I knew all of this was wrong. But that kiss kept me from screaming. And, it was also electric. He kissed differently than any guy I'd ever kissed before. His lips were firm and demanding and completely assured. And I knew I should stop him; I had a boyfriend. I shouldn't be kissing anyone, much less a stranger. But considering that I'd already stroked his cock and let him watch me masturbate, it seemed like a pointless technicality now...
In any case I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. He didn't let me. I was recovering from a mind-blowing orgasm and this man was devouring me in his kiss. His hands went up under my shirt, and I didn't stop him. I didn't even stop him when his fingers slipped under my bra and his thumbs flicked at my nipples. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and when he finally broke apart for a breath, I was shaking all over. I was letting this stranger kiss me and touch me, and I couldn't stop...
"God that was so fucking hot," he said, nipping at my earlobe. "You're fucking hot. You're beautiful."
I was shy and soft now as I was never shy and soft.
"You liked doing that for me didn't you?" he whispered.
I nodded dumbly, and could not disagree.
"But you want more," he said. "You want to do more for me."
I shook my head no, but he didn't believe me. "Yes you do. You don't want to say so, but you do, and that's okay. I don't need you to say it. All you have to do is nod and I'll make you do more. Much more."
And as if I was dreaming, I nodded.
~~~
I wanted more kissing, more touching, more coming. And the fact that he was a stranger only made me want it more. When I nodded, admitting it, he exhaled so sharply it was as if I had struck him. "Then do what I tell you," he whispered, his fingers now tugging at my nipples. "Keep rubbing your pussy. I want you to come again, only this time I'm going to help you."
Oh god, I couldn't let him do that. I didn't mean to let him kiss me or feel my breasts. That had just kind of happened.
But I couldn't let him play with my pussy, so I heard myself let out a little sob. "No."
He stifled my protest by kissing me again—hard. I felt trapped and overwhelmed, and I couldn't hear myself think due to the heartbeat crashing in my ears. His hand slipped under my jeans into my panties where he found me soaking wet. He groaned, as if startled by it, even though he'd just seen me masturbate. I tried to pull my wet fingers out from beneath his, but he wouldn't let me, this time pushing down with all his strength and guiding my hand in an awkward rhythm. I was oversensitive, having just climaxed. The sensations were too intense to be pleasurable. But it was too naughty. It was too hot. I moaned into his kisses, and I realized that our movements were growing more careless.
We were being too loud. We might be overheard.
"You're going to come for me again," he whispered, working my nipples and grinding his hardness against my thigh. "Come for me," he said, over and over into my ear, our fingers grinding together over my clit and making me feel helpless. I mentally fought back the orgasm that was coming. But I didn't know who I was fighting.
I think I was fighting myself.
My hair was matting at my temples from the effort, until finally I started pumping my hips against his hand and mine. His voice was a sweet whisper of encouragement in the darkness, and it pulled from me every emotion. When I came, this time, I let out a cry, which he stifled by putting his hand over my mouth.
I screamed into the stranger's hand. He smiled and kissed my forehead as I started to calm down. Panting, sweaty, and overwroug
ht, I went limp in his arms. He lifted my wet fingers to my lips and tried to push them into my mouth. I didn't want that, and shook my head, but he whispered, "I want to see you do it. I want to see you suck the juices off of your fingers."
For some reason that I couldn't explain, I wanted what he wanted.
So I sucked them clean, letting the salty taste roll over my tongue.
He seemed pleased. In fact, his pleasure rippled through me so powerfully that I couldn't resist when he took my hand and brought it again to his pants. He was so hard.
He started using my hand to rub himself the way he'd forced me to rub my own clit. I didn't struggle this time. I didn't struggle when he tangled his hand in my hair and brought my mouth to his either. The way he kissed made my knees weak, so I didn't struggle when he started pulling my head down to his neck either, and then to his chest.
But when I realized he was forcing my head into his lap, I did struggle. It was one thing to hide naughty fingers under a coat. It was quite another to give a blow job in a semi-public place. I didn't even know him. But then it hadn't mattered how well I'd known him when I was crying out into his hand moments ago...
