Its 7.00am, and I’m still half asleep as I sit on the wooden plank seat, wearing my white vest top and pink skirt, my rucksack on the seat beside me. I’m the only person who gets on the bus at this stop because no one else in the area goes to the same college.
A couple of minutes after I sit down, I hear the sound of a vehicle coming down the lonely lane. I look through the small window in the side of the shelter and see an old red car driving towards me. To my surprise, rather than drive past, it slows and pulls into the small lay-by just before the bus shelter. I watch a man get out of the battered old car. He has grey hair, I guess he’s in his mid to late fifties. He’s tall and wearing a tweed jacket, blue shirt and gold corduroy trousers, with brown shoes.
He locks the car door and walks to the small bus shelter and, stepping inside, gives me a smile.
“Good morning,” he says. “A lovely one, isn’t it?”
He sits down on the seat. He is well spoken, an upper class accent.
“Hello. Yes, it’s nice,” I reply.
I’m slightly puzzled. In all the time I’ve been going to college, I have never seen anyone else at the bus stop at this time of the morning. We sit it silence for a few moments.
“Are you off to school,” he suddenly asks, looking at my rucksack.
“Well, yes… college, actually.”
He nods.
“Ah yes, of course. College. I’m waiting for the number 38 to Dorchester. It’s cheaper to catch the bus than drive in and pay for parking the car all day.”
Another silence, and I look out of the side window, feeling a bit uncomfortable, hoping the bus will arrive soon. It was often late.
“My niece was at university in Manchester,” he says. I nod in response.
“In fact, you look a lot like her. How old are you?”
I give him a nervous look. “Well… I’m nineteen.”
He smiles.
“Yes, she had the same colour hair as you. Maybe a bit shorter than yours. And dark brown eyes like yours, too. She was a pretty girl.”
I shift in my seat, feeling a bit anxious. He seems like a nice man but, at the same time there, is something a little strange about him.
“Oh… I see,” I say, trying not to encourage him. I look out down the lane but there is no sign of the bus yet. Please hurry up!
We sit in silence again. I stare out of the window but I am aware of him moving about on the seat. When I glance around, I discover, to my horror, that he is sitting with his legs stretched out. His penis and testicles are exposed, poking out through the open zip of his corduroy trousers. He is slowly rubbing his growing shaft with one hand, pulling back his foreskin to reveal a glistening, wet head. He doesn’t say anything, or even look at me, but simply sits and plays with himself in silence, almost in a world of his own.
I gasp in shock, and stare in stunned silence, hardly able to move or breathe, as he fondles himself in front of me. I’ve never seen a man’s private parts for real before and suddenly I am confronted with this tall, well-dressed stranger, massaging his cock as it grows in size. I look away and feel my heart jump in terror, realising that I am alone and vulnerable in this remote bus shelter, as this weird stranger masturbates in front of me.
I can’t speak or move. I am frozen to the seat with panic. All I can do is stare out of the window, dreading what he will do next. The silence is broken only by the sound of his hand rubbing up and down his penis and the wetness of his foreskin pulling back and forth over the bulge of his lubricated, red head. My brain finally begins to function.
What should I do? Sit and ignore him? Make a run for it? Scream?
To my relief, I hear the sound of an engine, and the college bus appears down the lane. He, too, hears it and, as I turn round, I see him pushing his now fully-erect penis back inside his trousers. He zips up his flies as I stand, my legs weak with fear. Neither of us speaks and I step out of the shelter, my heart racing.
The bus pulls up and I climb aboard. I’ve never been so relieved to get on the bus before. I show my pass to the driver as the doors close behind me. As I walk along the aisle, I look out of the bus window. In the shelter, he is sitting, staring at the ground. He seems sad and lonely somehow.
Several days go by. I didn’t told anyone about what happened in the bus shelter. I don’t know why…. maybe I should have called the local police station. But it all seems so surreal now, as though I imagined the whole thing. I am beginning to doubt it ever happened at all.
A few days later, I am in the bus shelter when I notice something odd. On the wall of the shelter, the bus timetable is displayed. As I stare at it, I suddenly realise that there is no number 38 bus shown on this route at all. In fact, none of the routes go to Dorchester from here.
I am still thinking about this when I hear the sound of a vehicle approaching. The old red car pulls into the lay-by, and the man gets out, locks the door and comes into the shelter. My heart is beating. So, I didn’t imagine it after all.
He steps inside, smiling. “Good morning,” he says, airily, and sits on the seat.
“Hello.” I can hear a tremble in my voice.
“Another lovely day ahead, I think,” he says, looking up at the sky.
I nod, but don’t say anything. I am wearing a pink t-shirt and white mini skirt, with sandals on my feet, and realise that he is looking at me.
“You do so remind me of my niece,” he says, suddenly, almost in a whisper.
I look out of the window, and try to ignore him.
“She was tall and slim, just like you. She had a very similar figure.”
I feel him stand up. I close my eyes, dreading what is going to happen.
I hear him unzip his trousers and pull out his penis. He begins to rub himself. Despite myself, I turn and take a guilty look at him. To my horror, he is standing with one hand around his throbbing penis, rubbing with a regular, slow rhythm. He gazes at me as I watch his large, hairless testicles bounce up and down with each stroke, and see a drop of clear fluid ooze out from the little hole in his wet penis head.
I am frozen to the seat, strangely transfixed by what I am seeing. Every cell in my brain is telling me to get out of there now. But something deep inside has a hold on my body, preventing me from getting to my feet and escaping. I find myself staring at his penis in fascination, watching a man masturbating.
Nothing is said. As I sit in silence watching, I can feel a tingling sensation in my nipples, and my cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. His actions gradually increase in speed, as he looks down at this shy, 19 year old girl, who is staring at his throbbing cock in fascinated silence. His breathing becomes heavy and his hand works faster.
He takes a step closer, standing only a metre away. I see a dribble of creamy white fluid appear from his penis hole, and then he gasps. Ejaculating several times, his semen pumps out over his hand, down his fingers and then drips all over the gravel floor of the shelter, some drops landing on his trousers and shoes.
I’ve never seen a man ejaculate for real before. My only experience has been looking at video clips on Lush. Suddenly, it’s happening right in front of me. This complete stranger has masturbated and ejaculated only a few feet from me.
I gaze at his twitching penis as it drips with his cum. Breathing heavily, he puts his left hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out some tissues. He wipes his cum covered hand clean, as I watch his penis head still leaking with semen, dripping onto the ground. He wipes it dry then pushes it back into his trousers and sits down again beside me on the seat.
I look out of the window, ashamed of myself for watching him, but aroused by what I have just witnessed. We sit in silence for a few minutes.
He coughs, then speaks in a quiet voice. “I do hope I haven’t offended you.”
I continue to look out the window. I don’t speak. But, despite myself, I shake my head.
“Oh good. I wouldn’t wish to,” he says softly.
The bus is coming up the lane. I stand up and pick up my rucksack.
“My niece used to enjoy watching me,” he adds, almost to himself.
I get on the bus. As it leaves, I see him again sitting there looking at the ground. Sad. Lonely.
A week goes by.
I’m waiting for the bus and I’m wearing a blue blouse and black mini skirt. He arrives in his car, gets out and locks the door. He enters the small shelter and smiles.
“Good morning. Not so nice today, though.”
“No. A bit cloudy,” I reply.
He sits beside me, and we sit in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the early morning birds singing in the trees.
After a pause, he stands up, and I hear him pull his penis out. Without a word, he starts to masturbate. I turn and watch him. He is standing closer this time, right in front of me, his legs almost astride my knees. I gaze at his throbbing, glistening penis, only centimetres from my face. He begins to pound it, looking down at me as I watch him.
He clearly likes the way this shy, pretty college student gazes at his cock, her eyes taking in his every detail. It must brings back memories for him.
As his climax approaches, he gasps and leans forward. A long white string of semen erupts from his pulsating cock, squirting out forcefully and spraying my face and blouse. Then another ejaculation hits my face, his hot cream running down my blushing cheeks, over my closed lips and down my neck. My eyes are closed as I feel more semen hit my forehead.
He finishes and steps back. I open my eyes, my face dripping with his warm cum, as he looks down at me. Then, he takes out some tissues from his pocket and wipes his hand and penis clean, before putting himself away, and sitting down again.
We sit in silence.
“My niece liked me doing that to her,” he says quietly. “She enjoyed tasting it.”
I gaze out of the window, and feel his semen on my face and neck, warm and creamy. Cautiously, I open my mouth, and lick my lips, tasting his warm cum as I swallow. My first experience of semen is slightly salty and his aroma fills my senses. I open my rucksack and take out some tissues, wiping my face and neck dry, before cleaning off his cum from my blue blouse. It is a sticky mess and his semen stains will show all through the day at college.
He watches me clean off his semen in silence.
“I do hope you didn’t mind,” he says.
I don’t really know how I feel. Ashamed of myself for not getting out of there? Disgusted with what he has done to me? Guilty that I have let him do it? Like a dirty slut?
I shake my head. “No, I dont mind,” I say, almost whispering.
The bus arrives and I get on. As I climb up the step, I feel the unmistakeable sensation of wetness between my legs, as my pussy betrays my arousal.
He sits alone. Sad.
Days go by. I don’t see him. I think about him all the time now. Who is he? Where is he from?
Another week. It is nearly the end of June. And then one morning he appears. Still wearing the same tweed jacket and corduroy trousers.
“Good morning. A lovely one,” he smiles.
“Yes, very,” I reply, my heart beating at his arrival.
He sits down and silence descends.
Without saying anything, I turn in the seat to face him and lift up my left foot, placing it on the wooden seat. As I do, my short white mini skirt rises up my thighs. Nervously, I pull the hem up to my waist and my light blue lacy panties are revealed, my smooth pussy outlined against the thin material. As the cool morning air reaches my private parts, I can feel my wetness making my panties damp. My cheeks begin to grow hot with embarrassment… or is it arousal?
He looks at me, and I give him a shy smile.
“Are you sure?” he asks quietly.
After a slight pause, I nod. “Yes, I think so.”
He reaches down, and I feel his hand gently rub against my puffy lips. I let out an involuntary moan at his touch, as he traces the outline of my slit with his finger through the lace. He rubs my pussy for a few moments, and I close my eyes, my head leaning back against the wall of the bus shelter. My wetness shows through, turning the light blue into a darker shade.
I open my eyes and see that he is smiling at me. Without a word, I reach down, and carefully pull my panties to one side, exposing my naked pussy to him. My heart thumps in my chest, scared but excited. He is the first person to see my private parts.
“You are shaved,” he says, slight surprise in his voice. “Just like my niece.”
I stare at him, questioningly.
“She used to let me shave her pussy for her.”
His fingers touch the smooth nakedness of my swollen outer labia, and he massages me for a few moments, his thumb rubbing against my growing clitoris, causing me to moan quietly. I look at his craggy face as he gazes intensely at my intimate parts, taking in every detail, every fold of my lips, every contour. Then, he reaches down with his other hand, and I feel him gently open my outer lips apart. As he does so, a trickle of fluid escapes from within me, and runs down into my bottom.
“You seem to be very aroused.”
I nod, shyly.
I feel embarrassed about having my intimate parts exposed to him but, at the same time, my inner urges are helping me to overcome my intense shyness.
Carefully, he slips his middle finger between the pink folds of skin, his progress made easy be my natural lubrication, and I gasp as I feel him enter my tight vagina. My muscles contract involuntarily around his finger, with a tight grip.
“Relax,” he whispers, soothingly.
I lean my head back against the shelter wall again, and close my eyes, as the stranger fingers a nineteen year old student’s wet pussy. Slowly he pushes in deeper and I find my hips rising up to meet him, his curious finger exploring the inner walls of my tight vaginal canal. He pulls back out slightly, and then plunges in again, deeper this time. I groan, and push against him. The sounds and aroma of wet teenage pussy begin to fill the space inside the bus shelter as he pulls out again, causing another trickle of my pussy fluid to run down into my bottom.
Then, with another thrust, his finger reaches inside ever further, and I feel it push against the resistance of my hymen. The slight pain causes me to gasp and I open my eyes, shocked.
At the same moment, the sound of the college bus approaching breaks the spell.
I reach down and grab his hand, pulling his finger out of my vagina and then stand, putting my panties in place, and pulling my mini skirt back down. He sits and watches me as I get up and stand waiting. When the bus pulls up outside the shelter, he speaks quietly behind me.
“My niece was still a virgin when she was nineteen, just like you.”
I get onto the bus.
He sits and gazes at me through the windows as the bus pulls away.
The days go by. I want to see him again. Who is he?
I sit watching as his car pulls up. He gets out, locks the door and walks to the shelter.
“Good morning, “ he says and sits.
“Hello.”
I gaze down the lane.
“There is no number 38, is there?” I say quietly, not looking at him.
There is a pause.
“No, no… I’m afraid there isn’t,” he says, eventually.
I stare out of the window.
“I think I’m ready,” I whisper.
“Yes, I think you are.”
I stand and face him. He sits and watches as I unbutton my white blouse and remove it. Then, I unclip my pink skirt, unzip it, and take it off, placing it on the seat. I smile shyly at him. He reaches up and unclips the front of my bra, exposing my small, firm breasts to the cool air. My nipples are already hard, slightly upturned and puffy with arousal. He removes my bra, then cups my breasts in his warm hands, gently squeezing them and caressing my nipples with his fingers. They tingle at his touch, sending shocks of arousal straight to my pussy.
I reach down and begin to slip my white cotton panties down. As my bare, smooth pussy is revealed, he takes over, leaning forward to pull my panties down to my ankles. I step out of them.
I stand before him, completely naked in the bus shelter, except for a pair of sandals on my feet, and he gazes at my nubile, slender body, revealed fully to him for the first time. My heart is pounding because he is the first man to ever see me naked. In the silence, his hands pass over my body, gently caressing me as I stand in front of him.
“You are just like her… every part of you reminds me of her,” he says, quietly, his hand making its way up my inner thigh until it reaches my smooth, shaven lips. As I stand there, he rubs them, and then slides a finger along my slit.
“Turn around,” he says, softly.
I turn and stand facing the open entrance to the shelter, looking out into the lane, and behind me I hear him get to his feet, and take his trousers down.
“Bend over.”
I bend forward, holding the sides of the wooden entrance, my head outside the shelter. I feel his hand slide between my legs and gently push them wider apart, then up to my exposed, protruding pussy. His fingers slip between my lips and I gasp as he enters my dripping folds.
“She was so wet, just like you are now, the day I took her virginity,” he whispers.
Then I feel the wet head of his penis sliding between my upper thighs, rubbing against my outer lips, back and forth. I moan with pleasure, and bend over further, looking down between my legs to see his erection slipping back and forth against my swollen pussy.
Without a word, he slides it into my vagina. I gasp, taken by surprise at how big it feels inside my virgin pussy. I feel his hands take hold of my hips and pull me against him, pushing his cock in deeper, immediately reaching my natural barrier. I feel the pressure of him against it, and then he pulls back out.
“Please, be careful,” I gasp, holding on tightly to the wooden doorway.
In response, he pushes hard, and forces his penis in deeper. I feel a sudden intense pain deep inside and let out an involuntary cry, as I realise that he has torn me. As the resistance gives way, so his penis travels deeper inside, filling my vagina with his thick shaft, until he is completely within my tight hole.
He pulls back out, and as he does so I feel a trickle of fluid run out from between my lips and down my inner thigh. Looking down between my legs, I see a red line of blood making its way down my inner thigh. He pushes again and this time, without resistance, his cock rams hard into me, his testicles hitting my bottom with a slap. His grip is tight around my hips now and he pushes and pulls me, back and forth, building up a rhythm, each time penetrating deeper into my tight, newly-opened vagina.
I grip the doorway tightly as his actions become more powerful, almost forcing me out of the shelter and into the lane. With each thrust, I gasp for breath, his pounding cock ripping me apart. Then I feel him lean over and his hands reach down around me, taking hold of my small, firm breasts. He squeezes them tightly, whilst continuing to thrust his cock deep and long. His breathing is heavier, and his rhythm slows, but each thrust becomes harder and deeper still.
Suddenly, he lets out a groan of pleasure, and his cock jumps inside me as he releases his semen with a gush. I feel the force of his ejaculation deep inside, followed by another. With each release, he rams his cock into me, his testicles slapping against my bottom. I am gasping now, as I feel my legs beginning to tremble, and I know I am close to cumming. As his penis pushes in again and squirts inside me, my vaginal muscles quiver and contract around his shaft.
I let out a moan of pleasure as another wave rushes through me, causing my hips to buck and writhe. He pulls out, then pushes in again, his hands tightly squeezing my breasts as he struggles to hold me still now. My orgasm takes over, my pussy tightening around him, and my whole body shakes and shudders. I try to cling onto the door frame, but lose my grip, and fall forward, out of the doorway. As I do, his penis comes out of my tight, quivering pussy, and a flood of semen and blood runs out down my legs.
I fall onto my hands and knees on the ground just outside the bus shelter, my hips still quivering as the waves continue through me. I try to get to my feet, but my legs are weak and trembling. He takes me by my waist from behind, and gently lifts me to my feet. As he does so, I feel his semen running down my legs. He pulls me back inside the shelter, and I sit down on the wooden seat, gasping and shuddering as the orgasm continues.
He is pulling his pants and trousers back up. I notice that his semi erect penis is coated with his semen and my blood.
He sits down and I lean back, still naked, against the shelter wall, trying to recover my breath. Every few moments another wave runs through me, and I shudder and gasp. Beneath me, I feel his semen leaking out of my sore, aching pussy and onto the seat.
I stare out of the window.
“How old was she when you took her virginity,” I ask.
There is a pause.
“She was nineteen. Just like you.”
After another pause, I ask, “When did you do it?”
“A year ago. A year ago today,” he replies, quietly.
I turn and look at him.
“She’s dead, isn’t she?”
He nods and stands up.
“Yes, she died a year ago today.”
I stare at him, trying to take in what he has just said.
“Thank you, Sarah. Thank you for helping me remember my Sarah.”
How does he know my name?
He leaves the shelter and returns to his car. I get up and stand outside the shelter in the lane, still naked except for the sandals on my feet, his semen and my blood running down my legs.
I watch as he drives away. He doesn’t look at me. He is crying.
As the sound of his car fades into the distance, it is replaced by another sound from the other direction.
I turn to see the college bus pull up. The doors open and the driver and passengers stare in amazement at the naked, dripping teenage student standing at the bus stop.
