Fate/Board/Bus/Hidden
From Create Your Own Story
You look around and decide you are sneaky enough to make this happen.
You press a finger to your lips and whisper a quiet "shh", then press the finger against his. In turn, he then sucks it into his mouth, covering it in saliva. You smirk, take it out and slowly let it descend to your exposed pussy. It feels electric as you brush your moist finger against your dripping, neglected sex. You try to squeeze your finger in, but despite the daintiness of your finger and the wetness of your slit, it is still a tight fit. You feel the tiny bump of every segment of your finger as it slides in, and although it is difficult, it gives you a feeling of nothing but bliss as you eventually feel your knuckle touch your lips. As you do so you let out a long held in breath and realize Mr. Johnson has been watching you the whole time, his dick now inflated so much that the veins are bulging out.
You remove your finger and press it once again to his lips and give a fatigued "shh". This time he only licks it lightly, still stuck with awe at what must have been a hell of a show.
You place a knee on the other side of his legs so you are straddling him. You gently grab his penis and feel how puffed up it is, it is a miracle he didn't cum right there and then. gently you lower your body so it is impaled by him. You feel the head brushing against your entrance. You want to keep it there for a while but the bus hits a pot hole and you are suddenly thrust about an inch around his shaft. There is a sharp burst of pain quickly followed by a slow soak in pleasure, washing it away. You dare not look down, but from the looks of things, the man you are impaled on either did and saw the abyss that swallows all things, or is struggling against thousands of years of evolution not to cum right there and then. You help him by proceeding slowly, trying to keep your moans down as you slide slowly, bit by glorious bit down his shaft until you eventually are sitting on his lap, as if you decided his legs would make a better seat that the ones the bus provides.
You watch as the man slowly collects himself, fighting back the urge to cum in you. You begin to rock against him slowly, allowing him to get used to the pace before you speed up a little, letting the pleasure build in you, then a little more, and eventually you start making tiny little bounces off his cock, hoping it just looks like you are particularly affected by the roughness of the bus ride, but totally unable to know because your eyes are welded shut by pleasure building inside you, your lip jammed between your teeth in an effort not to scream "oh god, I can't believe how good this feels" at the top of your lungs. His cock is sliding in and out of you at quite a pace now, rubbing against the inner walls, making them shake and tremble and vibrate as it does so.
The pleasure is relentless and unyielding, forcing you to go faster and faster. From your thrill deafened ears you hear Mr. Johnson gently moan, "Please... slow... do- I... can't...", well whatever it is that he can't is just going to have to wait until you finish surfing this wave of pleasure unlike any you have ever felt before. It's not as if you haven't masturbated before, but this pleasure was different, more internal, more all encompassing.
Suddenly the pleasure reaches a peak and you feel every muscle in your body turning on and off rapidly, vibrating. His dick expands inside you simultaneously. It wasn't your fault you yelled a mighty groan, an earth shattering, or at least bus shaking "YEEEEEEEAAAA", you just lost all control with all the feelings you were trying to keep track of. But you don't open your eyes yet, not until the wave has passed. You wait and wait, by the time you look on the cold hard light of the morning bus route the boy's penis is already getting soft, letting tiny little drips of both of your cum onto his lap. His eyes are still scrunched up when you open yours, you look around the bus and see that, to your surprise, nobody is looking at you, you hope that is how it was all the way through your massive orgasm, but strongly suspect otherwise.
You silently dismount your boy and slide yourself between him and the window. You put your legs up against the seat in front so that not too much cum drips out, you take a cursory look for your carelessly discarded panties but fail to see them in any kind of accessible location, and so just lean back and bask in the post orgasm bliss, occasionally flicking some juices from between your legs for a taste.
At some point the two of you stopped and rested as time passes by with a kind of blissful unawareness until the bus finally arrived. You decide to get off once the coast is clear, so you could have a quick look for your panties, but find nothing. Mr. Johnson must have taken them.
Oh well, you think, you were going for the slutty look anyway, might as well be slutty, pantiless and dripping. Maybe I'll start a trend.
Do you:
