The night bus

I look up when she gets on board and my gaze follow her making her way through the almost full night bus. When she meets my eyes and smile I feel… something, like a miniature flash in my tummy, and when she askes if the seat beside me is free I just nod silently. I pretend to check something on my Iphone, but really I am watching her out of the corner of my eye while she is placing her bag on the floor and shrugging out of the jeans jacket. Even though we both sit squarely in our seats our hips and thighs touch, and especially now when she wiggles about in order to get comfortable. I’m looking out the window, not really seeing a lot. It’s funny how quickly the evenings have gone darker, even though it still is summertime. If I lean back against the backrest the window becomes a mirror and I watch her. 

She pushes a strand of of hair behind her ear and seemingly absentminded trails her fingers down the side of her throat and along the spaghetti straps of her top, skimming the top of her boobs. When she sinks down further in the seat the hem of her skirt reveals more of her tanned legs. I’m feeling a bit guilty for peeking like this, but it’s really hard not to. Still apparently not quite happy with how she sits, still wiggling her butt on the seat and thus rubbing against my leg - which causes her skirt to ride even further up. I’ve turned my gaze away from the window and I’m looking at her sideways, to my defence I really try not to be too obvious, but that skirt of hers isn’t very long and I’m thinking to myself that I’ll see the colour of her panties any second now. She inhales deeply and reaches out to hang her jeans jacket on the hanger on the seat in front of us and by doing that she creates a make-shift curtain to the passengers closest to us on the bus. These days everyone is busy with their smartphones, updating their social media with what happened during the evening, putting up their cutest selfies and pretty pics of drinks - so honestly, I don’t think anyone notices anything going on around them anyway. 

Her hand lands on the outside of her own thigh and therefore, she’s touching my leg and the hand I rest on my jeans clad thigh. Purely by reflex I yank my hand away and look apologetic to her. She’s not looking sorry at all. On the contrary, she’s got a funny smile on her face and then she winks at me. Her hand now rests on my thigh and with three fingers she reaches out for my hand. Her hand is warm and dry. I look at it as if it was some kind of strange animal and then turn to face her. She’s pulling my hand towards her leg and instead of my jeans I’ve now got smooth skin under the palm. A little more and my fingers are resting on the inside of her thigh. I look around, but just like I noticed before - everyone seems busy fiddling about with their smartphones. She’s still steering my hand and I now know why I won’t see the colour of her panties no matter how high her skirt rides up. She’s not wearing any. 

My fingers are now resting gently against her pussy, I feel her pubic hair under the palm of my hand as I run my fingers up and down her pussy lips. They are soft and very moist… no, actually - they are wet. My middle finger is pushing a bit harder, separating her lips and sinking into her. I hear her exhaling quietly at the same time she pushes her genitals against my hand. I can feel the muscles in her thighs tense and relax, tense and relax as she grinds her cunt against my hand and my fingers. My ring finger too slides into her and she’s making small, rather discreet circular movements with her hips. I’m leaning a tiny bit against her shoulder and I can hear her breathing getting heavier. She slides her hand down on top of mine, pressing my palm and my fingers harder against her, deeper into her and there’s a shiver running through her and her pussy is squeezing my fingers as she comes. Gradually her body relaxes under my hand - and then she reaches for the Stop button and presses it. The digital sign lights up at the front of the bus. She reaches for her bag, rummages around in it as she gets up from the seat and steps out in the middle of the bus. Just before she turns to get off she seems to find what she’s looking for and hands me a crumpled piece of paper with some numbers written on it. 

”Send me a message if you want a re-match.” she says - and then she’s gone.