Bus Stop
written by:
Discovering_Angel

Bus Stop

Riding the Bus in Seoul can sometimes get very interesting.

I boarded the bus around 9 pm on my way back to my little apartment in Yeokchon-dong. Each time the bus stopped more passengers got on and few got off. The bus was reaching full capacity now as the working masses headed home after having dinner and soju with colleagues at the local restaurants. I had chosen a spot near the back, as I was one of the first to get on, and was crammed into the corner on the side with no seats, gripping my hand strap in a vain effort to stay on my feet.

The person behind me had been standing quietly, and I had not fully realized it was a man until the bus lurched forward and I stumbled backward into his hard, muscled chest. It was like a moment suspended in time as I heard him suck in his breath. I felt a surge of electricity ignite the blood rushing through my body and I squeezed my eyes closed waiting for that shock wave to pass me by. The other passengers in front of me had shifted as well, and I was unable to move away from him. I tensed every muscle and kept my eyes closed tightly, waiting for the next stop, and hopefully some breathing room. I realized I had lost my grip on the hand strap. The only thing holding me on my feet was the close proximity of his body and his hand loosely holding my upper arm, helping me remain steady, keeping me from stumbling against him each time the bus hit a bump in the road.

We were now on the open road and there would be about 20 minutes before we stopped again. I felt trapped and edgy. The poor guy behind me was just staring over my head, clutching his hand strap for dear life. I knew he was trying to concentrate on anything but my body against his, because I was doing the same. He was pressed against the back wall of the bus, and could not move away. I let out a little sigh through my nostrils and tried not to shake from nervousness. Then, the bus hit a significant bump. I lost my footing slightly and instinctively thrust my hips back to maintain my balance. The man's hand moved down to my waist in an effort to steady me. That was when I felt it. I was surprised a bit, but it wasn't like he could help it with my tight, round ass pressed against his crotch. I could not move. I had nowhere left to go. We were packed in like sardines.

Since I had no other option at this point, I decided to enjoy my predicament. I arched my back slightly and pressed into his hardness. I felt my pelvic floor tighten with the tilt of my hips and a surge of desire pulsed through my body, following the route of the blood searing my veins. His hand was resting gently on my waist. He could not move a muscle without disturbing the passenger next to him. I tilted my hips back slightly again and I felt his breath blowing my hair as he forced it out. I began to imagine what he might be thinking. "Surely, she's not doing that on purpose! Dear God, make her stop!"

I had to suppress a mischievous little giggle as I felt his erection growing rapidly. My poor victim, his body was betraying him. Was it against his will? I would have to find out. I began pressing myself against him in a rhythmic manner, ever so slightly. He probably could not determine whether I was doing this intentionally, as my movements were so slight, it could just be the swaying of the bus as it made its way toward our destination. I decided it was time to make my intentions clear. I took a tiny, miniscule step to my right and began turning my body. Slowly, step, turn, step, turn, slowly, slowly, until I was facing him. I had managed to make this transition without any of the people around me noticing. They were all facing forward, concentrating on breathing in the limited space and air.

His palm was now flat against my stomach, and he continued to stare straight ahead. His other arm was raised above my head with a death grip on the hand strap. He did not move, and continued to stare over my head, struggling against any type of reaction. Then, I touched him. With my hand flat against the rough denim of his jeans, I covered him and felt a slight twitch. I enjoyed the feeling of his hardness, nestling into my hand, seeking my warmth. As I began to move my hand over him, gently cupping his growing bulge, he continued to show no reaction. I reached up with my other hand, and slid the tips of my fingers inside his waistband, running my thumb over the metal button holding it closed. He tensed ever so slightly, but still made no sounds or evasive movements. I felt a sense of satisfaction, like he was consenting to my will.

I glanced up at his face. He was incredibly handsome. His eyes were beautiful, like liquid dark chocolate under long black lashes. His hair was jet black, cut in a stylish way and fanned out against the back window of the bus where his head was pressed against it. He was about a head taller than I. If I were wearing a pair of 2" heels, he would still be about 4" taller. Nice. I will never get over the sight of him at that moment, helpless against me, almost fragile and breathtaking. Still watching his eyes and face for any sign of reaction, I gently undid the button. His hand gripped my forearm, but he did not pull me away as I slowly unzipped his fly.

Pulling the elastic of his boxer briefs away from his hard stomach, I ran my thumb around the tip of his penis gently spreading a drop of pre-cum around the soft, sensitive slit of the head. I moved my hand down the shaft. He was uncircumcised, and the foreskin pulled away from his erection, exposing the sensitive skin beneath to the warmth of my other hand. His eyes rolled back just a bit as I began moving the foreskin up and down the shaft. I imagined the pleasure he was feeling and my breath began to come in shorter gasps, my breasts heaving slightly. I felt my nipples growing hard with desire, pressing against the lace of my bra, my vaginal muscles pulsing, my eyes closing against the wave of heat building in my lower abdomen. I quietly let out my breath in a deep sigh.

I wanted to go down on him right there, but there was no room, and obviously, no privacy. As we were, bodies pressed together, no one could see what I was doing with my hands. I continued to jack him off, slowly. Then, I had an idea. I was wearing a long, billowy white skirt. It was the beginning of summer, and I had paired it with some colorful layered tanks and a light, crochet sweater. I had nothing on under the skirt but a pair of lacey boy shorts. I began gathering the front of the skirt up between us. The back of the skirt stayed long, shielding us from any eyes that might wander. When I had the skirt bunched in my hand in front of my stomach, I lifted my knee slowly and placed my foot on the floor rail behind him, about 2" off the ground. My right leg and thigh were completely exposed to him in the front. I placed my hand on his hard bicep, gently encouraging him to let go of the hand strap. We were packed so tightly, it really wasn't necessary for him to hold on.

I took his left hand, now free, and placed it gently on my inner thigh, guiding him to the edge of my lace panties. He gripped my thigh gently, his fingers seeking the warm flesh beneath the sheer fabric. My hand over his, I guided him to slip his fingers under the panties. He moved in on his own, and I switched the hand holding my skirt. I put my right hand back inside his pants resuming the hand job I was giving him. My head went back slightly, and I sucked in a breath as he gathered moisture from my slit and began to run his finger over my swollen clit. I was so hot for him I knew I would have an orgasm before he was even close. He went down to get more, and slipped two of his fingers inside me. I almost groaned as pleasure raced through me. I managed to only let out a slight "Uh," under my breath. He began to move inside me, thrusting with two fingers, thumb resting on my clit and stroking me with the movement of his hand. It was all I could do not to scream as my first orgasm rocked through me.

His right hand moved up my back, and he pushed me up against him pressing my cheek into his chest. I panted there and recovered as he continued thrusting his fingers inside me. I had stopped working him for a moment, but now continued moving his foreskin up and down his shaft in the same rhythm as his movements inside me. After my first orgasm, my g spot was engaged, and his fingers moving against it were building me to another. I felt as if a lightening bolt had hit me when that second one came and tensed against him holding my breath, tears squeezing from the corners of my eyes. I could feel his breath becoming ragged and rapid in his chest. I continued to work him with my right hand pumping the shaft, my thumb stimulating the head with gentle pressure.

My vaginal muscles were pulsing around his probing fingers causing me to come over and over again. I wanted to throw my head back and scream with pleasure. Instead I gripped the fabric of my skirt tightly biting my lower lip and pressing my ear to his sternum. From the pace of his breathing, I could tell he was almost there. Then, I heard him suck in a breath and hold it. I glanced up at his face again. His eyes were closed and I could see the tendons in his neck straining. He was about to come hard. I doubled the rhythm of my hand, foreskin moving up and over the head with each pump. His fingers had stopped their movement inside my body, and he pulled them out slowly. He gripped my hip beneath my skirt as his orgasm built to critical mass. The fingers of the hand on my back moved up to my neck, twining through my curls.

I began the countdown from ten in my head, yeol.... sa, sam, duhl, il. His hips thrust forward and he clutched the hair at the back of my neck as he exploded in my hand. I continued to move his foreskin gently up and down, pumping it out of him. He released his breath and sagged against me. After a few seconds, he pulled his hand out from under my skirt and tugged at the fabric I was holding between us. I took the hem, and used the bottom of the skirt to wipe away some of his cum. Using the inside of the white material, I cleaned him up the best I could. I let the skirt fall back down to my ankles and gently closed up his pants. He was resting his hand on the small of my back, and I could feel his chin bumping the top of my head as the bus ambled down the road. His arm moved above my head as he renewed his grip on the hand strap.

We rode this way for a few more minutes then, the bus stopped and people began piling off. I got off at the third stop and walked slowly home. My partner in crime had gotten off at the stop ahead of mine. I wondered if I would see him again, a smirk playing around the corners of my mouth as I thought of his face, eyes closed tightly, teeth gritting with passion. I thought back to when I first touched him, and remembered the slightest widening of his eyes in surprise. I smiled with satisfaction. This evening's ride had been truly fun. I opened the front door of my apartment. As I was pulling the key out of the lock, a man grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the front hall.

His foot kicked the door closed behind me, and I was drawn into a full embrace accompanied by a passionate kiss. His hands cupped my face and he looked into my eyes with deep appreciation. I kissed him back and hooked my leg around his thigh. He lifted me and pushed me up against the door. He kissed me again, and looked at me with an accusing expression. "Do you make it a habit to seduce and assault innocent men on the bus?"

"Mmmm," I responded and winked at him. He kissed me deeply then, pressed me harder up against the door. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he carried me toward our bedroom.

"You are an amazing woman," he whispered in my ear. "I am the luckiest boyfriend on the planet."

This would be a stay in takeout weekend for sure.