Bus ride

In the eighties of the last century, public transport in our city was in a very bad state, especially during rush hours. The buses were always overcrowded and had to be stormed. It was then that the incident occurred, which for several years added variety and, as they say now, "adrenaline" to my masturbation hobby.

That day, I was going somewhere. To my right stood a girl of about seventeen in a little dress, nothing special about her face. At the next stop, a lot of people crammed into the bus, and naturally, everyone squeezed together. Under the pressure of the crowd, this girl lost her spot and the ability to hold onto anything, and in this

way ended up between me and the back of the seat I was holding onto.

Being a true gentleman, I gave up my spot to her and grabbed the overhead handrail. After all these forced maneuvers, her neat little bottom was inadvertently pressed against my cock. I could even feel through my pants the firmness and warmth of that curve and... oh my god... my cock started to swell, what a shame... she'll feel something poking her now, or the passengers will see. I tried to move away somehow, but I only managed it for a short time. After another pothole in the road, my cock was pressed against that beautiful ass again, and I stopped trying to move away.

I liked this position, especially since the girl didn't react at all,

"Doesn't she feel anything?" I thought.

I had to restrain myself with all my might to avoid coming in my pants, I was so aroused. I looked down; my pants were bulging so much that I got scared someone might see. I looked around, calmed down—no one cared about me. I had to get off soon, but I didn't want to; it felt so nice standing pressed against the girl's ass...

The incident didn't leave my head for the rest of the day. Coming home in the evening and starting to jerk off in bed, I imagined that we were together on the bus, and I was lifting the hem of her dress and rubbing my cock against her ass. Then I pull down her panties and shove my cock, ready to explode, into her pussy. And I erupt like a volcano, though only onto my own stomach and face. Ah... what a pity it's only a fantasy.

On my next trip, I specifically looked for a female companion to press against like that, but it was all in vain, I couldn't manage it. But I didn't lose hope; I was already addicted to this new sensation and started devising plans on how to arrange it all.

I began spending all my free time riding public transport. It was good that back then you could buy a monthly pass, if my memory serves me right, for one ruble eighty and ride as much as you wanted. Otherwise, with the number of trips I was taking, even at the ticket price of six kopecks, you could go broke.

I came to the conclusion fairly quickly that it was best to scout for a "victim" at stops where a lot of people usually gathered, typically in the city center and near large stores and the like. You'd spot a pretty girl and watch her; as soon as her bus approached, you'd try to position yourself close to her. It was scary—what if she figured it all out and, God forbid, shamed me in front of the whole bus—but precisely this fear excited me even more.

I immediately decided that the main thing was not to be pushy. If she moved away or showed any unease, then under no circumstances should I try to continue my pressure. Generally, it was best to arrange it so that she ended up in front of you as if by herself, like in the case I described at the beginning. Then it sort of seems like it's not your fault; she pressed against you herself, and I'm not to blame.

All these actions still ended in failure more often than not. The reasons varied: either she wasn't going far, and you'd just get positioned against her little ass when she'd suddenly get off; or similarly, while you were positioning yourself, the bus would become less crowded; or, on the contrary, it would be so packed you couldn't push through to her. And, well, not every girl was suitable for my hobby. First, because of height—short ones weren't suitable because their butts were below my cock; you're not going to squat on the bus to press against her.

Second, because of the physiological build of the figure. Even if a girl had, well, just a wonderful figure, but with a flat butt, then that was it—such a girl wasn't suitable for me; it was hard to press against her. For me, those with, so to speak, a curvy build were more suitable, i.e., the butt stuck out backward; I called such girls "ass-girls."

And if everything worked out successfully, then, mmm... how pleasant it was to press my rod against such a lovely little ass. I often didn't even wear underwear under my pants for better sensitivity, and I always carried a plastic bag with some magazine to cover the bulging pants from prying eyes if necessary. It's just a shame that you constantly had to balance on the edge, so to speak, the point of no return, to avoid coming. specially for e t a l e s . o r g Then later at home in bed, you give free rein to your hands, and nothing can stop you anymore.

However, after some time, I reached the stage where I didn't care anymore, and I decided to try to actually come right in my pants on the spot. I imagined how dangerous it was, how the "ass-girl" would behave—after all, it's completely different from just when something is poking you; here she would also feel the thrusts. And it would be quite unpleasant for me afterward when it was done—damp, sticky, brrr... I had such an experience back in school in the eighth grade.

But desire overpowered me, and on my next "hunt," I went out with the goal of coming on the bus.

After one unsuccessful attempt, I spotted a girl of about sixteen at a stop in a short, light skirt and started observing her. She seemed to fit all the parameters for my plan, and I especially liked that the skirt was made of some light, thin fabric, so you could even see the outline of her panties through it. My cock was already starting to swell, and I had to distract myself with something else. As I understood after a while, her bus was taking quite a long time, meaning when it arrived, it would already be full.

That's exactly what I needed. I chose a position so that when we stormed the bus, I would end up right behind her. Finally, her bus approaches; by the number, I determine she's going far, otherwise she could have taken another one. This suits me perfectly—more time to enjoy if everything goes well. Letting the exiting passengers out, we begin the assault; the bus is already packed to the brim, and at our stop, there are also many wanting to ride this bus. So far, so good; I'm moving right behind this charming girl, the crowd behind us is pushing, and I end up slightly to the right and sort of turned sideways to the girl.

After some attempts, I manage to turn, but some woman is in the way, preventing me from pressing right up against her; only my left hand is pressed against her, and I feel the warmth and firmness of this beautiful young ass. My cock is already trying to break free; my pants are bulging in the fly area, and I cover it with the bag, though in such a crush, it's unlikely anyone would notice anything. After one stop, the woman moved closer to the doors—probably getting off soon—and I quickly take her place, positioning myself right behind the girl.

Oooh... mmm... what a thrill. My cock, trying to straighten out, is pressing right into the very bottom of the groove between the two buttocks. The girl was quite tall, and if it weren't for the barrier of my pants and her skirt with panties, if I bent my knees just a little, my cock would be rubbing right against her pussy. From that thought, I was ready to explode right then, but it was too early; I had to hold out as long as possible. I looked down, mmm... how great, how beautifully the skirt hugs those two halves of the ass and the groove between them. From time to time, as possible, I moved slightly away from her to reduce the pressure of my cock and prolong the pleasure.

And what about her? Why isn't she taking any action? Doesn't she feel anything? Unlikely. Or maybe she likes it herself. I understand that not every girl, especially such a young one, can react out loud to such actions; after all, it would be some kind of publicity and drawing attention to herself. But to move away, turn around, or otherwise avoid it—even in such a crush, it's possible. So, only one conclusion remains...

So we ride like that for probably about twenty minutes now. I pray to God that the crush in the bus lasts as long as possible. With my hips, I feel how hot and firm her little ass is, aaaa... mmm... how wonderful, what a thrill. That's it, I need to come, or else the situation might change, I decided and stopped controlling myself. Literally within a minute, I was no longer able to hold back, and my cock began shooting streams of semen in thrusts. Finally, the girl showed some unease and tried to move away, but at that moment, the bus was turning, and I was pressed even harder against her, so I managed to come fully.

I stood there, afraid to move because it was wet and unpleasant in my pants; I felt the semen running down my leg. I slowly started pushing toward the doors. Getting off the bus, I looked at my pants; slightly visible wet spots. So what? It's unlikely strangers would pay attention; wet spots on pants could be from anything—maybe I was drinking water and splashed some, I reassured myself. It was just uncomfortable to walk, but as they say, you have to pay for pleasure, and it didn't last long; soon everything dried, after all, it's summer outside.

Summer, ah summer, short skirts, shorts, light dresses, slender legs, and lovely asses. It all passed so quickly; autumn began, and the girls changed their wardrobe, and consequently, the sensations from touch were no longer the same. All that remained was to fantasize, remembering all this, and jerk off, jerk off, and impatiently wait for winter to end and summer to come again.

So for several years, I engaged in this kind of masturbation, even after getting married at thirty, I still, with pleasure and when possible, continued this shameful activity. It all ended only by the mid-nineties when public transport became much easier, and buses became much less crowded.

By the way, in all that time, I never once encountered anyone who tried to shame me or make a scene for the whole bus.