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He shook his head. "Don't be sorry and don't stop." This time, it came out like a command, and he still had my hand tight in his grasp. "You don't want to stop," he added, as if I weren't humiliated enough.
Like a trapped animal with nowhere to run, I pressed my hot cheek against the glass of the window. The cool of the glass was a welcome relief to the heat of my face. It was as if I was burning up with fever. I squeezed my eyes shut as if that could make all of this go away.
"Leave me alone," I murmured again.
That's when he threw my coat off me and grabbed for my other hand—the one trapped in my panties. Without the cover of my coat, there was no hiding what I was doing now. My jeans were undone, and the panties beneath them seeming to glow white in the darkness.
He had both my arms in his grasp, but I didn't scream. I'll never know why.
I think it's because as afraid as I was, I was too aroused by him to struggle. Besides, he was so strong it wouldn't have mattered. He stared at me for a moment as if steeling his nerve then let my hand go and whispered, "Don't stop. And don't make me tell you again."
My mind reeled with various emotions. The nerve of him! Who the hell was he to tell me what to do, and to make it sound as if there were consequences to my not doing it? Was he a criminal? I was so frightened I couldn't obey him if I wanted to.
And some part of me, impossibly, did want to obey him. Wanted to do everything he said. Wanted to masturbate for a complete stranger on a bus, just because I could. The streetlights we passed would light up his intense and handsome face every so often, but I was in stasis, like a snake to a snake charmer, just staring at him in my abased condition.
"Do it," he urged. "Rub your pussy. Finger yourself. I want to watch you bring yourself off."
I felt more exposed than if I were naked before this stranger and I wanted to get away, but his voice was so enticing, his excitement was doubling my own. My mouth went dry. Then I could feel it. The lump forming in my throat. I was going to cry. I couldn't help it. "I can't," I whispered back, a tear flowing off the side of my cheek. I was barely able to force the words out over the lump of shame in my throat. "Someone will see!"
It was a bit too late for that, and he didn't accept my refusal. Instead, he pushed my hand back onto my stomach and then down, following my fingers into my panties. I felt his warm, urgent whisper rumble by my ear. "I won't let anyone else see you do it, but you have to do it for me," he said, and shifted in his seat so that his broad back blocked the aisle. "You want to put on a show for me, don't you, baby? Fuck yourself."
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
