Altavie Brown Takes a Trip Downtown

here I sit at my computer, not working, again. Instead I'm taking pictures of a bottle I have shoved up my cunt, at the direction of an anonymous man on the internet. He has also instructed me to shave my pubic hair, and write the words, "This slutty cunt belongs to M" across my bare mound in permanent marker, then to take a picture with the marker stuck up my hole. I did that yesterday, and in today's picture you can still see the words, albeit faded a little--I guess it's not a very permanent marker. I'll have to look for something more durable.

We are just getting started, and he's the first person I've done this kind of thing with; I'm curious to see what else he will come up with for me to do. He has assured me that I will do whatever he asks; I'm thinking that over. I do get excited when I open the emails from him, though, no denying that. My little pussy starts to throb, imagining something depraved--so far, what I have imagined has been far worse than what he's asked for, but I haven't said that to him.

I'm hoping he will ask me to meet him at a theater, wearing nothing under my winter coat, having never seen his face (nor him mine), and that he will sit next to me and put his fist in my pussy. And maybe have someone else sit on the other side of me, and put things in my ass. Maybe I could sit on his lap, his cock in my ass, while the other gentleman puts things in my pussy. I get wet thinking about this. It seems like there is not enough in the world to fill my pussy; she is voracious.

I want to lie on a floor somewhere, blindfolded, and have men pinch my nipples, hard. Put things in me, cocks and solid things that hurt a little. Maybe a baseball bat in my pussy--I'm pretty sure she can take it. She likes to stretch. My ass is stretchy, too, just not as much--yet. M says he will make my holes gape, when he finally meets me--I don't think he imagines that he won't get to, but I'm pretty sure I won't meet him. He's not exactly what I want.

Then I wonder if I even really know what I want. What I really need. M thinks he has me all figured out, from a few days of emails and some phone calls. But he doesn't know the things I imagine aren't the scenarios he's laying out. I think I'm going to have to take this into my own hands.

I decide to try something. I plan to go downtown on the bus, during the morning commute. I work for myself, so I can do things like that. I dress up, like I belong with the rest of them, but I sleep in my makeup the night before and just add eyeliner on top of the smudged stuff. I finger-comb my long hair. I smear pussy juices everywhere I can; in my hair, on my face, my pulse points, all over my thighs. I tear a hole in my stocking, right up near the edge of my skirt, and wear a short coat so it will show. I don't put on a blouse at all--just a tight but business-like skirt, and my coat, stockings, and work heels. I will sit next to men, riding the bus all over, to downtown and then up and down its streets.

The first guy is young, mid to late 20s, dressed very well. Nice looking. Not someone who would normally give me more than a glance, being that I'm mid-40s and usually wearing boring jeans and a hoodie. I do have large breasts, 36DDD, so that gets me looks no matter what I wear. I sit next to him, unbuttoning my coat until it starts to be apparent that I don't have anything else on under there. I see him looking, wondering, saying to himself, "It must just be a low-cut blouse..." I pretend not to notice, and keep unbuttoning until he can clearly see my breasts, but the way we're sitting, I doubt anyone else can.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him look up from my chest to my face, surely taking in the messy eye makeup and bedhead, but he surely also notices that my coat is expensive, as are my shoes and bag, and I have on single pearl earrings and a thin gold chain around my neck, with a tiny medallion on it. Is it my imagination, or are his nostrils flaring as he takes in the scent of my pussy juice and my pussy itself, growing wetter under his scrutiny? I recross my legs so the hole in my stocking is easy to see; I start playing with it, as if unconsciously, worrying it with my fingers, sliding them in and out. It's a long bus ride, so I have time to let things play out, if they're going to.

I see that he is watching, so I put my legs down, open them, and hitch my skirt up a bit so he can see the edge of my stockings. I finally turn and look at him for the first time, giving him a neutrally friendly smile, and lean back in my seat. My skirt rides up a little more, and I start to play with the garter button, undoing and redoing it. He clears his throat, and crosses his legs, but I spy what he's trying to conceal--a growing bulge in his very nice pants.

I flap the edges of my open coat, as if I'm too warm, and in fact, I am--I'm getting very hot. I want him to reach down and put his hand in my pussy, which has started to make my plastic bus seat feel slippery. I lick my lips, and look at him again. His eyes are trained fully on my hand, which has been sliding under my skirt, visiting my wet puss. I see his eyes follow my hand as I bring my glistening fingers up and slide them in my mouth, and finally he lets out a soft moan. I look meaningfully at his hands, and back into his eyes, then spread my legs wider in invitation.

He doesn't even look at me, he just places his hand on my thigh and waits to see what I'll do. I tilt my pelvis up, so he can feel that shift and understand my intentions, and quickly he slides his hand down into my waiting snatch. I shave down past my clit, but above I leave it full; my hairs are drenched into soft waves, and I feel him stop to run his fingers up one slick curl. His hands are warm, and his finger feels callused as he slides it in; he must play the guitar.

I finally look up to see if anyone has noticed us; at this hour, almost everyone looks half-asleep, and the bus is quiet. His second finger goes in, and I have to suck in a breath; his fingers are large, and just two are filling my capacious pussy. I imagine that his cock is magnificent. I lean over to whisper in his ear, "I bet you have a magnificent cock", and am rewarded by seeing it twitch; yes, it looks thick and long, and he dresses right.

He's worked up a good rhythm in my pussy, and I am feeling fine. So fine that I am forced to bite my lips to stifle some moans that would like to come out. My tits are heaving inside my open coat, and he decides to be daring, reaching his other hand over and cupping a heavy breast. I look at him, silently urging him to go further, and he does, leaning over and quickly suckling a nipple, leaving a cold, wet strip on my breast that makes me shiver.

I'm so close, about to cum, and I want to touch him. I reach over and put my hand on his bulge, and he opens his zipper in a one-handed maneuver. I slide into his briefs, realizing at this point if anyone looks over or walks down the aisle, it will be absolutely no secret as to what we're doing. I know this route, and figure we have about 5 more minutes before the first downtown stop; I'm pretty sure that will be more than enough time for both of us.

Oh, my--he really is lovely. I want my mouth on him, but can't think how that wouldn't attract attention, so I lick my palm and rub him for all I'm worth, but stop first to collect that bead of pre-cum and bring it to my mouth, as a small taste of what I'm missing.

His face starts to flush as he nears orgasm; I've never seen a man do that, but have had comments about my own face and neck doing it. This is all I need to tip over the edge into my own delicious orgasm; it's difficult not to make noise, and I have to cough a few times to cover my gasps and moans. That does cause a few heads to raise, but I can't stop and neither can he; he is about to cum, and I'm on my second wave.

A thought goes through my mind, "He's going to cum on his nice pants", when I see that he has untucked his shirt and is spurting into the tail, which also serves to cover a bit his open pants; I see the person next to me on the aisle glance over, and apparently not notice anything amiss, although I can't understand how she doesn't see my hand, clearly in his pants.

We're both done, and I've retracted my hand, closed my coat and pulled my skirt down; I look over, and he is leaning his flushed face against the cold glass of the window. He sees me looking, and offers a small smile--"thanks, that was fun." I smile back, and say, "It was, have a good day."

Just then, the bus makes its first stop, and I decide to get off. I had thought I would get on another bus and do the whole thing over again, but am realizing that I want more--I want someone inside me. I have a moment of regret about getting off the bus; who knows, maybe he would have let me enjoy some more of that fabulous cock.

I decide there are lots of men, lots of opportunities; I want to go home and call M, to tell him about my adventure, and I plan to head back downtown around 5, to take another bus away towards the suburbs. Maybe there will be someone on that bus who will take me to his car, in the park and ride, and fuck me senseless, then drive home to his suburban life. As for me, I've just begun this journey of exploration; who knows what I will dream up for myself.