International Relations, Overnight

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shaunreagh
shaunreagh
1,243 Followers

His fingers roam her pretty middle ... upper legs ... lightly opened thighs. The girl does nothing, just holds still. Her hands are now conjoined beneath her chin. Her face is once again composed, as if asleep. She has clearly left the details to her neighbour. Who shows no sign of not knowing precisely what he wants. And most of that, is her. Her pretty body, light-raised sighs, little squirms and occasional kick of the thighs, pulsing her pudenda into the path of his eagerly exploring fingers and hands.

Her shoulders are turned away. Her head and hands are too. But her lower regions are his, to do with as he pleases. It is as if she has surrendered the naked bits below, but intends to hold on to what is higher up. But soon he mounts attacks on that as well. As he forces an arch from her back, and a kicking thrust from her front – perhaps by a toying with her clit, or maybe a finger lightly run inside her – his mouth goes to her neck and his other hand slips beneath the sweater, yet again. Soon he has a bare breast in his hand beneath the sweater, and the lobe of her ear between his teeth, and pretty soon the student's face is twisted with concern. A twist like a sour fruit might give, but tempered with a sudden gasp, or groan, or even look to heaven as the feelings that are in her overflow.

I watch as the combat develops, as the hands of the man more thoroughly cover the parts of the girl you'd expect him to want to excite and arouse. They clearly are having effect. And her half hearted-resistance, flagging now quite clearly, apparently does nought to him, other than inspire, drive him on, applaud and encourage... one might even believe. Her plump young breasts, one now openly exposed, are treated to visits from his hands, his fingers, his lips, and tongue. His teeth have even visited a nipple – twice, in fact, a brief toothy nibble each time – the second of which snapped the student's backbone, ramrod straight.

When the changed fortunes came about, it is difficult to say. He was causing the girl to coil and writhe, and curl and gasp, at whim. He could make her legs flay wide and next snap tight, at will. He could soften the line of her backbone then have it arch and cause her to groan by simply changing the way he worked on her breasts, or simply caressed her shapely ass. He'd been trying to kiss her for minutes, at least, but always her head turned away. And then, all of a sudden, just after I'd notice her biting her lip, she let his lips on hers. She opened his mouth under his. She let his tongue explore her, bulging first one cheek out, then down around teeth, then easing the other cheek out – as if she had a lollipop, large and far and round, urgently working in her mouth.

He took her jumper off, and then her bra. He had her naked, tight in his embrace, all except a single pink ankle sock. Left foot. Sometimes braced against the back of my seat, once even stuck along the window sill next to where I was, once even stuck up in the air. The came together, after a bout of the youngster disappearing between the big man's legs, and giving him what looked to be pretty workmanlike head. Did they teach them how to do it at her college or University in Japan, I found myself wondering, admiring the way she moved her slender hand around his balls. She took the scrotum in her pretty mouth, as well. Sucked them tenderly, as if they were something highly appetising, but possibly rare. Watching her do it pretty nearly made me come.

He lifted her astride his broad hips, his own trousers and pants down around his knees and she faced me, gorgeously naked, him by now slid in the corner seat. The look on her face was the kicker, as the head of his prick – a large, hard, agricultural affair, that would not have looked out of place on a healthy horse! – eased into the opening in her wide-open thighs. Her face screwed up, her eyes hard closed, the tip disappearing below ... then as it eased in: the eyes springing open, the look of astonishment writ on her pretty face, then the languid bewilderment that slowly took over her features as his erection slipped further and further into her below until – at about the time he was easing the last hard inch home, the cute youngster's irises disappeared entirely into the top of her head, and she gave a most audible groan.

I flashed my attention to the rest of the bus. How could they not have heard that.

It was louder than the damn bus's horn, for Christ sake!

But nobody had, it appeared. No-one around us had stirred.

So I turn back. His hand is over her mouth. Her tongue is out, playing amongst his broad peasant fingers. Her face is a mask of shock. Her eyes are as wide as they go. Her irises drift into dream-like view, then shoot back skullwise with a gasp that he catches with considerable skill. Her pelvis is rhythmically moving on his, easing him forwards and backwards, easing herself up and down, pressing herself as she wanted to be pressed in the big thing that probed her deep innards. The look on her face, and way that she angled her hips, and way that the muscles on her lithe stomach eased the two together, then apart, was poetry in arousal. I wished I was there. I wished I was there in his shoes. In his pants. In his prick, in her. Kissing her neck as he was, fondling her breast as he was, having her lick and kiss his hand, as she was. I wanted to be in his shoes.

I wondered, maybe, if he went for a walk in the aisle, I might change places with him. I wondered if I could offer him something, (some money perhaps,) to change places with me. I wanted to be where he was now. Could I ask to climb over when she'd finished. Climb over here to my seat, come astride me, let me ease my thing into her?

She came with a sudden violent urgency that almost knocked my head off the back rest of my seat. I thought she would waken my neighbour. Her cry was part muffled by the hand across her mouth, part muffled by the mouth that quickly took over from the hand. Her head was bent back, like a swan's, her lips clamped hard on his, and her spine was twisted like a pretzel ... but Man! How her pelvis was pumping now. Clearly at the peak of an orgasm, minutely past, she was equally certainly headed for another one, equally huge. She shuddered and cried, arched once, then pulsed, then drove on some more. She looked to be in a series of violent implosions, one following rapidly after the next, each causing all sort of things from her back, and her throat, and her chest, legs and eyes. A short-circuit, of sorts, that broke the stream and flashed the lights ... then started up again.

I lost count of how many times the big guy made her come, but it seemed to be a lot. Then he came at the end, like the pro he clearly was, and had her backing uncontrollably some more. She was a rag-doll in his hands. He let her be. Remained, impaled. I wondered if he was one of these guys who reduced to the size of a pinkie, or merely deflated, just a tad.

It seemed he was one of the latter. Fifteen minutes passed, she was fast asleep, he'd put her parka over both of them. But then there was awakening of sorts. And all it took, it seemed, was a little more movement from him, and whatever state of himself he had left inside her at the end of round one, by the time of the start of round two – no hands went to insert the thing again – it merely grew where he had left it ... with the same result. She came back to life with a vague, sleepy, growl ... and then it was arousal chaos all over again.

I turned back around. I could feel the back of my seat, buffeted and battered by the action of the two, but it merely made me sick, now. There was nothing exciting about it. He had seduced her thoroughly. She was now his as he, it appeared, was now hers, to do with as they pleased. And they pleased a lot! Now that the ice had been broken, as it were, they would go on doing it until they were totally and utterly sated, totally and utterly exhausted, or something broke. And they both looked healthy enough, the third looked highly unlikely.

I fell asleep some time around four a.m., I guess. The bus started coming to life around seven. At eight we were getting ready to arrive, all the students getting their rucksacks off the overhead shelf. I glanced behind. Both fully dressed. She with a paperback in her hand, either reading or staring at the pages. The big guy got up to go. She didn't even look at him. He took a bag over his shoulder and started to make his way to the front of the bus – beating the crush, perhaps. Maybe he'd a meeting to go to. I looked back at the student. She was facing the back of the bus, smoothing out her parka on the seat. As she turned, bringing it over her shoulder, starting to put it on, my eye caught hers. She gave a sweet smile.

"Have a good trip?" I asked, slipping across my seat to the aisle.

She nodded. "It was fine," she said, a little sleepily, but pretty good English.

"These trips can be pretty boring," I said, now in the aisle seat, she in the aisle. "You didn't get bored?"

"Nope," was all she said. "It was fine. Excuse me, I have to get my bag."

She reached above me to the overhead shelf. I felt her stomach's gentle pressure on my shoulder. What made me do it I don't know – the after affects of the night, perhaps – but before I could stop myself I had reached a hand between her legs: the denim of her jeans, the tight fit, the sweet student inside. She closed her thighs around my hand but nothing else. She didn't say a word, or do a thing. She stood like that, stretched to the shelf above, my hand between her legs, cupping her pudenda. I felt her there, wishing I could get inside her jeans, but there wasn't time, everyone else was moving down the aisle. I closed my fingers on the heat, imagined there was dampness, wasn't sure, felt her pulse then thrust, then she was pressing herself into my hand. She didn't bring her bag down til I'd finished.

We were the last two down the aisle. I couldn't resist cupping her buttocks when we neared the door, the driver at the bottom of the steps, the rest of her party outside. When I did, she stopped, to let me feel her. We were the last two on the bus, there wasn't time for this. I inwardly goraned then let her alone. She had waited until I'd finished once again, before moving on. As we hit the snow I called to her, "It was lovely meeting you."

"Lovely meeting you," she said, and smiled her lovely smile, again, before heading off to join her party.

shaunreagh
shaunreagh
1,243 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 2 years ago

your stories are seriously amazing. plz keep them up

AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago
Amazing!

Had me coming by the end. The foreplay was more arousing than the actual sex part, though.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago
nice

good read, please keep writing!

shaunreaghshaunreaghabout 11 years agoAuthor
To Jimewest, Not as sexy, sorry

I guess it's like that, sometimes they're better, sometimes they're not. I'm active now in qatsu.com, so if you'd like to tell me where this falls down ...

jimewestjimewestabout 11 years ago
Not up to your usual standards.....

Not as sexy.

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