The bus was so crowded that I was sure that I could get away with having just one teensy orgasm without anyone noticing. I sat in the very back row next to the window. I had a long ride ahead of me.
The man sitting beside me had his black attaché case in his lap, and he was reading a magazine he’d propped up on his case. He was staring at a woman who wore nothing but a long string of black pearls and red high heeled sandals. Her legs were wide open, a bright red fingernail pointing to the right spot. Her other hand clutched her breast (a perfect handful). Her head was thrown back as though she was having—or would soon have—a great big O.
He wasn’t turning the page so I guess he liked the way she looked. And he wasn’t paying any attention to me, which was funny considering how much I wanted to come too. If he took even slightest notice of me, he’d see my hard nipples showing through my white sweater. (I wore it even though it wasn’t modest. On days when I feel like this, I don’t care who knows that I want to get laid.)
I woke up so horny this morning that I had to masturbate before I left for work. It was easy to come. I thought about how much fun I had licking Marla clean last night after Brick came on her beautiful breasts.
I’d been right about her wanting more, too—and Brick had me get on my hands and knees so that I could French kiss Marla while he fucked her. She played with my nipples the whole time, driving me crazy. But when Brick finished with her, he was all used up, and Marla was pretty tired too. I hoped she’d at least fuck me with a glass dildo that she keeps by her bedside and that she uses on me—or has me use while she watches. But that didn’t happen.
When I got home from their party, I was too tired to take care of myself, and too horny to sleep well. Coming once this morning wasn’t enough. One orgasm is never enough for me, and I didn’t want to go through a whole day feeling horny and not able to concentrate at work. I’d bet productivity would go up if instead of a coffee break they gave us a masturbation break.
Anyway, I thought it would be fun to tuck my remote control vibrator between the lips of my pussy, nestling against my clit, put the control in the pocket, find a good seat on the bus, sit back, slip my hand in my pocket and POW! Or maybe I’d tease myself. One buzz at a time.
I didn’t know I’d be sitting next to a guy who also had sex on his mind. I looked at the blonde in his lap—and thought about how he probably had a good hard cock under that briefcase, and that his hard-on was going to waste.
If I sat on his lap, I could rub around a little, and his cock would get a buzz from my vibrator at the same time I was getting off. I buzzed myself into a sweet orgasm. Two or three more would do it for me—and by then I’d have to get off the bus for work.
I sat there looking at the blonde’s wet pussy comparing it to mine. My clit was even more swollen than hers. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it. I pretended to fix my hair and used my arm to brush against my aroused right nipple. I wanted to squeeze my nipples while the vibrator was buzzing away.
Every time the bus stopped, we were jostled, and most likely the attaché case moved around on his hard cock. I wondered if he had any underwear on and if, when he got up, I’d see a nice wet spot on the front of his trousers. I was wet, that was for sure. I was glad I was a girl so that I could almost hide how horny I felt.
That’s what I thought. When we were getting near my stop I reached up to signal for a stop. I expected him to get up to make room for me to get by—but he didn’t. Instead he closed his magazine and handed it to me. “I see you like this as much as I do,” he said.
I opened and closed my mouth, at a loss for words. Then he winked at me, and that was easy. I winked back—and looked at his crotch. I thought about just sitting down for one little moment, but I was afraid that one moment would lead to another and I couldn’t afford to be late to work.
I got off the bus and he followed me. I slowed down, and he walked right by me. I was disappointed. When I got to my office building, I saw him walking through the door ahead of me, and then I didn’t see him in the crowded lobby.
I tucked the magazine in my desk. I’d put it in an envelope and take it home with me. I knew I’d come a few times just with that woman—and there’d be other things to look at. But that would have to wait.
First business. That morning we had a presentation for a client. I was nervous because I wanted to do a good job. I walked into the conference room and saw a black attaché case on the floor. I felt a rush of heat, and my cunt was wet, and I wanted to buzz myself again, just once, but I didn’t dare, not with the meeting starting so soon.
“I’m sure we’ll work well together,” was what he said to my boss.
Then he handed me a file folder with materials from our meeting, and said, “Study everything I gave you. You can reach me on my cell. I’m eager to hear your thoughts.” And I suppose my boss wasn’t looking because when we shook hands, he winked at me again.
My boss said he was proud of me, and as far as he was concerned, this was my client and I should handle him as I saw fit. And that’s what I plan to do.
Somehow I concentrated on work all day long, but once I was on the bus I let myself remember how horny I’d been in the morning, and how I’d buzzed myself into a few orgasms. Hooray for technology!
At home I took out the magazine Mr. G. (which is what I call him) had been reading, and paged through to see if I could tell what, or who, besides the blondie turned him on. I found a story that had the page turned down, and, of course, I read it.
It reminded me of a movie Marla showed me before she was my mistress. I think she showed me the movie to let me know what we could do together if I let myself go.
When we watched she told me it was OK with her if I wanted to touch myself, just as long as I asked her permission first. She said that my nipples were hard and asked me if I wanted to touch them. She said it was all right with her, but if I started to play with them, I’d also have to ask her permission to stop. I didn’t know what I was getting into. After a few minutes, I wanted to stop because it was frustrating. The more I pinched and twisted, the more aroused I was getting, but I couldn’t come like that.
Meanwhile, the video we were watching had a woman going down on another woman, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to feel Marla’s tongue on my clit.
On screen, a blonde woman was lying on a bed, spread eagle, with a pillow under her hips, and a brunette was going down on her. I don’t know how they managed to film it, but you could see how big the blonde’s clit was and how puffy her pussy lips were, and how wet—and then we watched the brunette’s tongue flicking the blonde’s clit so it was even bigger.
When I watched that, I twisted my nipples hard, but I still didn’t come. My clit was hard now, too, and I wondered what Marla, who smelled like jasmine, would taste like.
In the movie, the women were in a room that opened onto a courtyard and a swimming pool. While they were in bed, the sliding door opened and a young man stood watching the two. He stripped and stroked his huge cock. I’d never seen a cock that giant before. Since then, yes.
“What do you think he’s going to do with that?” Marla asked me.
I guessed he was going to fuck the brunette. He did slide his cock into the brunette’s pussy, and he slapped her ass, too. First one cheek and then the other, hard. When he slapped her, his face twisted like he was coming, but he wasn’t.
Then the blonde took a bottle from her nightstand and held it out for him. It must have been some sort of lube, because he poured it into the cleft of the brunette’s ass, and used his finger to spread it around. Then he poured more into the palm of his hand. While he rested a hand on the brunette’s hip, he stroked his cock until the whole thing glistened. His cock was way bigger than his hand, and he held his cock tight while he tugged at it.
Then he poured more lube right onto the brunette’s asshole. He reached underneath the brunette, and rubbed her clit—we could watch. Right when she started to come, he put the head of his cock on her asshole and pushed. It went in—and the film showed his shaft of his cock going into her.
Right when he was fucking her ass, Marla put her hand on my pussy and asked if I wanted to come. I said some thing like “more than” which didn’t make sense, but I’m not articulate when all I can think about is my wet pussy. Anyhow, she gave me permission to come. But the bitch took her hand away. I bucked my hips, trying to make contact with her hand.
She said I was a good girl, and that if I kept moving like that she would let me come. I was fucking air, and I twisted my nipples and pinched them using my nails. But finally she was true to her word—she put her hand on my cunt and fucked me with two fingers until I came. She asked if I had enough, and I told her the truth. That I needed to come again, that once was never enough for me.
She asked how much I wanted it, and I told her with moans instead of words that I wanted more. She said I could rub my clit now as long as liked to, and I wouldn’t have to ask permission to stop. Then she said she wanted to come, too, and asked what suggestion I had. I told her I wanted to go down on her like the girl in the movie. And I did.
I spread her pussy lips apart and licked at her clit. Then I sucked it, hard. But while I was sucking on her clit, I was rubbing mine. I don’t remember ever being that slick with my own juices before then. Finally I collapsed, satisfied and exhausted.
The movie we saw that day was like the story Mr. G had marked.
I had Mr. G’s cell number. I wouldn’t call him right away, but I’d phone in the early evening after dinner. With luck he’d call me back at bed time.