On the City Bus

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For several years I used to take the bus to get to work. It’s kind of my contribution to the environment. It may seem insignificant, but I still believe that if everyone does their bit, we will be able to solve a host of problems.

I admit, however, that it was not simply out of pure “altruism” towards mother nature that I made this gesture. I like public transport. Whether it’s the metro or the bus. I consider it to be a kind of laboratory where you can observe people’s behavior as you please. It’s not that I regard my fellow human beings as lab rats. Not at all. But it is nonetheless a place where a colorful “fauna” crosses paths.

Some time ago, I was sitting at the very back of the bus. Like I do most of the time anyway. We see everyone or almost get on board and walk around. And then, the youngest will generally take place at the very back rather than staying at the front where we find more elderly or disabled people. In this bus in particular, the benches are all arranged facing forward, a bit like in an intercity bus, and you cannot see either yalova escort the hands or the thighs of the passengers other than the one who sits in our sides.

At some point, a few stops past where I boarded, a guy in his mid-40s (or maybe a little older) boarded. He walked slowly down the aisle. Our eyes met as he walked away and, as if I had given him an invitation in my thoughts, he came and took his place on the bench, right next to me. Weird! I was just saying to myself when I saw him coming, how handsome he was. In fact, he was not necessarily very handsome, but nevertheless exuded a certain sensuality, an indescribable charisma, almost magnetism if I may say so.

He greeted me with a polite nod, then I replied with a faint, barely audible hello. I don’t chat with anyone on the bus. I observe. When someone greets me, I respond. But not more. So we didn’t discuss either. And I understood that the discussion would probably have prevented us from living what was to follow…

We had been driving for about three or four minutes when I felt him pressing yalova escort bayan his thigh against mine with a little more insistence than you would expect from a famous stranger. His boldness got me so excited that I responded by doing the same. For a few minutes we pressed our legs together like this, my left against his right, and so we concluded that we were both open for more games.

He then put his hand on my knee and started stroking me gently. I had never done anything like this before. I mean, not with a stranger. I had had no homosexual experiences in my youth, and certainly never with a stranger. The situation made me swell quickly. Him too, as I could see by the bulge in his pants. I guessed under the folds of fabric he had a lovely of good size. I would have liked at this precise moment to take it in my mouth and drink his seed. But this was neither the place nor the time. We had to content ourselves with caresses.

Within moments, my basest sexual instincts came to the surface. I was no longer a man, I was a sex object. I felt like escort yalova a beast. A sex-starved beast. His audacity disturbed me and without even having said a single word I knew he was very dominant, probably even more dominant at times. I was like a dominated little dog, totally at the mercy of her beloved master.

I parted my thighs and gave him all the space he wanted. He put his bag on his lap so as to prevent the neighbors in the other seat from seeing his movements, then he began to massage my thigh while going up to my crotch. When he finally put the palm of his hand against my fork and began to rub against my erect penis, I thought for a moment that I was going to let out a moan of pleasure as the excitement was great. He began to masturbate through my jeans. As soon as I stretched out my arm to return his caress, he gave me a light pat on the fingers so that I would step back and understand that he was the boss. A spasm of excitement ran through my cock.

He masturbated me like this for about the last ten minutes that separated us from his stop. He had a knack for stopping at just the right time every time before I passed the point of no return and dropped a gush in my pants. Sadly, he pulled the rope to ask to get off at the next stop. That’s how our game ended.

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