I am sixteen years old and ride the bus home every evening from dance practice. I am really too young for this long bus ride so late at night with all these strangers. I know my parents would think so, so I lie to them and let them think I get a ride home from a friend every night.
Most of the faces on the bus have remained unfamiliar, but I first noticed you about a week ago. You are always on the same bus with me and look like a man going home after a hard day at work. I can tell that you are some kind of businessman because you always wear a suit and tie. I've seen you staring at me. You try to be subtle, but I catch you out of the corner of my eye. You always look a little guilty since you know that you are probably at least twice my age or more, but your guilt doesn't stop you from leering at my young body. The way you look at me makes me feel all tingly. I can tell that you desire me in such a raw, animalistic way. It makes me feel dirty and slutty, and I love the feeling.
The bus is always crowded and dark except for the light coming from the street lights as the bus moves down the road. You are always conveniently in a place where I am at least partially in view. I've started fantasizing about you, wondering if you go home every night to a wife and a family. I wonder if your wife is pretty, and I envision what you look like fucking her. If you have her, why are you looking at me? Is she not dirty enough? Does she not do all the things you want? Does she suck your cock? Does she lick your ass? I shudder as I imagine everything a man like you would demand and deserve from a girl like me. I think to myself that I would do all of it without any limits.
I've had sex with some of the boys from my school, but it's always been awkward and mediocre. I know it must get much better than that, and I figure the best way to find out how much better it can be is to try it with an older man. I think if I told an older man all of the things that I would let him do to me and all of the things I would do to him, I could get him to fuck me.
I wasn't thinking about someone as old as you. But then you started staring at me on the bus. Now I get wet every time I think about you looking at me. I fantasize about being your fuck-toy. How would you use me? Would you dress me up like a slut? Would you make me do a strip show for you? Would you tie me up?
Then yesterday, you did something different. It was so crowded, and I didn't see you on the bus, so I felt disappointed. But after a few moments, I realized someone was standing close behind me. I knew it was you because I could smell your cologne. I didn't even know until that moment that I knew what it smelled like. But I did; it was a musky scent, combined with your sweat, that smelled like sex to me. I could feel the heat coming off of you. I sensed that you were standing as close to me as possible without touching me. I kept waiting for you to make a move, to initiate that first physical contact, but agonizingly, it never happened. As I stood there, hoping your body would make contact with mine, I was suddenly aware of how I was dressed; I had on tights and a leotard with a thin sweatshirt over them. My pussy was getting very wet, and I was worried that someone would see the damp spot forming on the front of my tights.
I felt myself flushing, the heat moving up and down my body. The bus hit a bump in the road, and without thinking, I allowed myself to fall back against you. Your cock was hard as a rock. For a brief moment, it was pressed up against my ass through the thin material of your suit pants and the thin layer of my tights. You caught me and held me against you just for an instant. But I felt what you did. You shoved yourself against my ass - just one quick thrust. And then you pretended to be helping me to regain my balance. When I felt your ram yourself against my ass, my pussy gushed and soaked my tights even more. My heart was beating so fast, and I was almost panting. I looked back up at you and smiled nervously, thanking you for helping me. You smiled back, both of us pretending like nothing had happened. But I saw your eyes staring between my legs at the wet spot on my tights.
I was still squirmy and wet when I went to bed that night. I couldn't get to sleep. I got up and found the tights I had worn that day on the bus. I laid back down, wadded up the tights, and pressed the wet spot against my face. I could almost smell your cologne mixed up with the smell of my girl-cum. I continued to hold the tights against my face while I masturbated, urgently rubbing my clit under the covers, trying desperately to keep quiet so no one would hear what I was doing. I thought about how it had felt to have your hard cock pressed up against me on the bus, and I made myself cum three times before I was finally able to fall asleep.
Tonight, I will see how far you are willing to go. How far we are both willing to go. I have a short, black clingy skirt that I bought at one of those stores that sells slutty clubbing clothes. I keep it in a secret place in my room so my parents won't find it. I've never had the courage to wear it anywhere, but sometimes at night, I put it on to make myself feel like a whore, and I make myself cum.