You know that always ecstatic moment when the hardness enters the hot, wetness of the expectant vulva?

It's just another day. I'm on my way to work. Riding the bus as usual, I get on early. I always have a long ride. I glance around as I come up the steps. Not too many people today. Friday, and lots of people calling in sick, I suppose. The driver and one lady up front. In the back is one man sitting with a newspaper raised up in front of his face.

It's casual Friday, but I'm not wearing slacks or jeans. I'm wearing a short skirt made of a cotton blend. Also a retro peasant blouse with lots of color. My shoes are sneakers, that I'll replace with high heels when I arrive at work. I'm feeling rather pretty today. My red hair is long, and not too frizzy, because the weather has been dry for the last week. My make up is perfect, and I love the new shade of lipstick on my lips. I'm also wearing a thong today, along with a soft, cotton bra. I feel good and I know I look good.

I walk back about half way back, and take a seat to the side. I hold onto a metal pole while riding the shifting bus so I won't get tossed around. The man in back lowers his paper, grins, and then begins reading again. He's cute. Not my type, normally. I usually go for the suits, you know? I always dream of marrying a professional man, and he'll take care of me. I hate working. That's what I dream of as I'm filing papers all day long.

This fellow today is more of a bad boy, if you know what I mean. He has about three days growth of beard. He's wearing black jeans and a tee-shirt, with boots on his feet. But he is reading a paper, so not a total loser, you know?

At our next stop the lady gets off. Just me, the driver, and the bearded man now. I stand up and hold onto the shiny metal pole, keeping myself steady. I turn to face the driver. I peek over my shoulder, see "beard" getting up, and turn back around. I can't hear anything over the roar of the bus, but I feel him. I feel him coming up behind me. Then I feel his warm breath on my neck.

I shiver, but I keep facing forward. I know I'm tempting him. I want to tempt him. I'm so tired of being the lady, and being all proper. I want something wild today. I feel pretty, dammit!

My soft skirt is lifted up slowly and I feel a rough hand caressing my ass cheeks. I begin to get moist and I start soaking my thong.

I can feel hardening nipples pressing against my bra. I lick my lips and taste my lipstick, thinking of a man's lips doing that. The thong is being pulled aside.

The bus has stopped for a moment at a bus stop, but no one gets on. I hear the sound of a zipper being pulled. It must be "beard" getting ready to take out his stuff. I can still feel him breathing on my neck, but now he's panting faster, and I now feel something touching my pussy lips from behind. It's warm and hard, and I want it in me. I want it so badly that I bend over, trying to get him to hurry.

But he's taking his time. It's slowly entering my wet slit. As that's happening an arm and hand are inserted up my blouse. My left breast is gently squeezed, and then he begins to maul it more forcefully, as his whole prick begins filling my pussy. This is so fucking hot! I want it completely now.

He suddenly thrusts the entire length into my wet pussy, and I almost scream. I look up to the driver's rearview mirror and he's looking back at us. I see only his eyes, but they're crinkled, as if he's grinning. Then he looks forward and continues driving, as "beard" drives his cock deep inside me.

He starts humping, as one hand's fingers are pinching my breasts. The other hand is holding me steady for his fucking. Oh, jesus! Fuck me, fuck me. I say nothing, but in my mind I'm screaming for more. God, it's hot, and my pussy is so fucking wet, and he keeps fucking me, and I want more and more.

Ahhhhh! Shit, here it comes. He's coming and I'm coming. I feel his milky seed filling my pussy. I know I will be dripping down my legs, and I don't give a fuck. It's so good, and so very, very naughty. I'm such a slut. I want to be a slut for once in my damned life. He keeps fucking until he uses up all his milk in me, and then he pulls out, slowly and gently. His hands move away from my breasts.

I keep facing forward. I feel a piece of fabric touching my hand, hanging by my side. It's a handkerchief. I quickly use it to wipe up as much of the juices that I can, which are running down my legs, and still dripping from my tender pussy. I get a lot of it. He then takes the handkerchief, and I feel him leaving.

Sitting down, I glance back. He's sitting again, reading his paper. But he's sniffing a handkerchief as he does that. I smile gently. This is a pretty good Friday.