Oz Beach Boy Molested By Muslim Woman

NOTES: This is a Christmas-themed CFNM story with very mild humiliation and some male/female sexual activity, but no intercourse. Though this story is not intended to offend, some of its cultural depictions may be troubling to sensitive readers. All of the characters featured and mentioned in the story are over the age of eighteen. This is a work of complete fiction. Happy Holidays!

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It was a cloudy, disappointingly grey summer's morning in Sydney, Australia. I was sitting on a public bus looking at a pic of a big breasted, dark haired, bikini-clad woman posing seductively on a crowded beach.

I'd Google image-searched the words "Busty Israeli Girls" on my phone, and the results were very hot indeed.

It was a few weeks out from Christmas, and I was on my way to a large shopping centre to pick up some gifts.

The shops were so busy at this time of year that I decided to leave my car at home because it was so difficult to find a parking space. The urgency and fevered desperation of Christmas drivers also put me on edge.

I always got bored on the rare occasions when I travelled by bus, and being a sex-obsessed 25-year-old Aussie male, I usually passed the time by sneakily looking at images of naked women on my phone.

I'd seen two very sexy, young, presumably Israeli girls -- one of them with enormous, heavily swinging breasts gloriously on display in a tight t-shirt -- on my walk up to the bus stop, which had prompted my in-transit Google search.

I swiped excitedly through the other images that came up on my phone, and it was nothing short of a cavalcade of beautiful, big breasted, sexily alluring Jewishness.

I loved women of all religions, nationalities, ages, shapes, colours, sizes, dispositions, socio-economic backgrounds and political persuasions, but right now, Israeli girls were really getting my dick twitching.

The bus was fairly quiet, with only a few other people on board, all of whom were sitting up the front.

I was up the back, which meant that I could check out the sexy images on my phone without fear of being caught.

I heard the gears of the bus shift and grind, and the big vehicle quickly pulled over to a bus stop.

I looked up and saw a Muslim woman getting on board. She was dressed from head to toe in black robes, which covered her body completely.

Covering her head was a hijab, while a niqab veil wholly covered the woman's face and left only her eyes visible, which peered out from the dark fabric. Her other features were totally obscured.

The Muslim woman carried a small shopping bag, and efficiently tapped on with her Opal card before moving onto the bus.

She looked around, and her eyes settled on me for a moment. She headed up the aisle of the bus, easily navigating her way as it pulled away from the curb.

The woman looked at me, and her deep brown eyes literally sparkled from out of her veil.

Her eyes carried a look of true mischief, and what little I could see of her skin was rich and caramel in colour.

The near-all-covering robes, hijab and niqab gave me no idea of the woman's body shape or age, though she was fairly short and rounded in stature.

A few faint wrinkles around her eyes suggested that she was likely in her mid-thirties.

Despite the fact that there were empty seats all around us, the woman gave me what looked like a slight smile, and then sat down right next to me. I quickly slipped my phone into my pocket.

The woman then slid her body further toward me on the seat, and I instantly felt her warmth pressing against my side.

She was much, much closer to me than she needed to be, and I thoroughly enjoyed the sensation.

The Muslim woman's option to sit next to me on a near-empty bus totally breached unofficial public transport etiquette in Sydney.

You only sit next to another passenger on the bus if you absolutely have to, so I was quietly surprised by this very curious move. I was also intrigued.

Being a constantly horny, sexed up exhibitionist who loves slyly getting his gear off for groups of women in public, I'm always on the lookout for potential naughty fun.

I'm in great shape, and very, very well hung, so interesting opportunities often present themselves.

Most of my sexy fun happens around Sydney's secluded bays and beaches, and I never imagined that a Christmas bus trip could turn into something raunchy.

I cheekily hoped that this woman might invite me back to her place for some cross-cultural between-the-sheets action. Sitting right next to me certainly suggested that she was up to something.

I'd never had sex with a devout Muslim woman before, and the thought of peeling off the layers of my fellow passenger's elaborate robes started to get me hot.

Would she be curvy? Would she have big breasts? Whether it was true or not, I'd heard that devout Muslim women didn't wax or shave, so I imagined a big, black, furry bush between the woman's coffee-coloured thighs.

I shivered pleasurably at the thought. This Muslim woman was really getting my juices flowing.

I'd been jerked off by an eighteen-year-old Lebanese schoolgirl a few weeks prior to my bus trip, and I'd had a sensational one-afternoon-stand with a beautiful Iranian woman that I'd met in a supermarket, but outside of that, my sexual dalliances with ladies of the Middle East had been disappointingly limited.

I hoped that this mysteriously enshrouded woman might help with my inexperience when it came to the sensual delights of the Arabic world.

I also giggled internally at the irony of the fact that only a few moments before her arrival, I'd been gazing longingly at images that represented her polar opposite: busty, near-naked Israeli girls in bikinis.

As the bus moved around bends and forged onward through Sydney's suburban streets, the robed woman leaned heavily into me, pushing her body against mine suggestively.

At one point, I even felt what I was certain was the soft sponginess of her breasts pressing into my rib cage.

The woman looked across at me and her deep brown eyes radiated beautifully from her niqab, literally alive with knowing naughtiness and mischief.

I had no real idea due to her hijab and face veil, but I fancifully sensed that this woman was likely gorgeous.

Then, out of nowhere, I felt her left hand suddenly resting on my leg, her olive-skinned fingers spread alluringly across my right thigh.

A surge of electricity pulsed through my body at her surprising, illicit touch. I shivered gently with delight.

I couldn't believe that she'd made such a brazen move. I looked across subtly at the woman, and I again saw her eyes sparkle naughtily at me.

She then rubbed my thigh over my fitted denim shorts, which reached down nearly to my knees. I shivered again with pleasure.

I then watched in shock as her hand wandered up from my thigh and then languidly made its way up to my waist. I didn't know what to do.

Her touch drove me wild, but I remained slightly uncomfortable about her being so forward with me.

As my mind raced with a heady mix of confusion and sexual arousal, the woman slipped her hand up under my t-shirt.

She didn't look at me, but instead focused her gaze on the front of the bus to avoid any suspicion from the driver or the other passengers.

I felt the woman's fingers rub my stomach, and then her short, trimmed nails traced over my rock-hard abdominal muscles, working their way across the stony ridges of my midsection.

Her touch on my leg had been electric, but her hand on my stomach sent off a series of sexual explosions through my body.

"Oooohhh," the woman cooed quietly in a deep, throaty purr, still looking directly ahead. "I can feel that you have a very muscular, manly body."

"What are you doing?" I whispered incredulously. "You can't just touch me like that!"

"What are you going to do?" the woman responded in an eloquent but thick Arabic accent. "Complain to the bus driver that you are being molested by a small devout Muslim woman? Nobody will believe you. You will be laughed at."

Her left hand moved further up my torso. She luridly rubbed my steely pectoral muscles, feeling the tight, waxed skin of my chest before naughtily tweaking my nipples with her warm, sweaty fingers. She was obviously hot under her robes and hijab.

"Oh my god," I said breathlessly, quivering at her touch. "You can't do this to me on a bus."

"I can do whatever I like," the woman responded with a sly giggle and pinched my nipple again. "Nobody will believe you...you will be the one that gets in trouble if you say anything. You men of the west are obsessed with all things sexual. Nobody will believe you."

The woman continued to rub my chest for a few moments, and then traced her fingers back down over my abdominal muscles, again feeling their marbled rigidity.

The woman then dropped her left hand right into my crotch, and started to rub my cock over my shorts with her adventurous fingers.

"Oh no, no...you can't do that," I said feebly while guiltily enjoying every minute of it. "We're on a bus. Someone might see us. You can't touch me there."

"Yes, I can," the woman said sternly, and rubbed my stiffening cock even more vigorously. "I can do what I like to you. Nobody can see us. Men of the west are all perverts...you are probably enjoying this...I can actually feel that you are enjoying this. I can feel your manhood swelling at my touch."

Her fingers then moved up from the enormous bulge of my crotch to the waistband of my shorts. She started fishing around.

When her fingers got to the button of my shorts, they stopped. She then reached over with her right hand and pulled at the button with both hands, awkwardly pulling it free and opening the top of my shorts.

"What are you doing?" I again pleaded weakly, illicitly overjoyed at what she was doing to me. "You can't undo my pants on the bus! Why are you doing this? You have to stop this!"

"No, I don't...I am going to take your pants down on this bus," the woman said firmly, "and there is nothing that you can do to stop me! I am doing this because it gives me pleasure to dominate you and embarrass you."

When she said this, the Muslim woman looked at me sharply and sternly for emphasis.

"You cannot stop me," she continued. "If anyone sees us, you will look like a pervert exposing your private parts to a devout woman. Your pants are coming down."

"Oh my god, I can't believe this," I muttered, and the woman wrenched down the zipper of my shorts, exposing my underwear. "God, I hope nobody gets on the bus..."

Though I was an exhibitionist and I liked being naked in public, I preferred to be in control of the situation.

I only stripped for women when I was confident that there was no chance that I would be caught. This was different. I was powerless.

"Now lift yourself up off the seat, so I can take your pants down," the woman said, while still looking toward the front of the bus. "If you don't, I will call out and say that you are harassing me."

I dutifully and ridiculously lifted my butt up off the seat. The woman then grabbed the waistbands of my shorts and underwear together with both her hands and ripped them down my thighs with one deft movement.

My huge cock and hefty balls flopped up and down absurdly as my shorts passed over them.

With my pants and underwear now stretched across my knees, I was totally exposed.

This small, supposedly modest Muslim woman had pantsed me on a public bus and there was nothing that I could do about it.

She was enjoying it. I wondered if she'd actually done this to other men, and if she was some kind of serial bus molester. Or was I her first victim?

I was trapped. If I'd gotten up and ran, the woman could have easily yelled out and claimed that I was a pervert.

If I'd complained or called out for help, the absurdity of my protests would have been plainly obvious.

I was utterly exposed and completely at the will of this unpredictable and very mischievous Muslim woman, and I secretly enjoyed every minute of it.

I was terrified about getting caught and possibly arrested, but the whole situation was a true turn-on.

I loved being mildly humiliated by women, and I was amazed by what was happening to me on the bus.

I sat back down on the seat, and the plastic stuck to my bare, sweaty butt. The woman looked across at me naughtily.

Her eyes widened comically from her niqab as she looked down at my increasingly tumescent dick and heavily dangling balls.

My cock is 23cm flaccid and 31cm hard, and this woman took in every inch of it with her lively, deep brown eyes.

They ran up and down my dick's impressive length, and then she looked directly at me.

"My goodness," she giggled. "Your manhood is most impressive."

The woman looked quickly back toward the front of the bus, obviously to make sure that nobody was looking at us.

She then quickly wrenched up my t-shirt to get a better look at my body. When she pulled it up over my pecs, the woman made a clicking sound with her teeth.

"You are a strong, powerful man," she cooed, "but you are at my mercy."

The woman let my t-shirt drop back down over my bare torso. She continued to look me up and down, while also darting her eyes back toward the front of the bus. She made the unusual clicking sound with her teeth again.

"Turn around so I can see your buttocks," the woman said flatly.

"What?" I gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am serious," she replied. "Turn around so I can see your buttocks."

Again, I dutifully did what I was told. I ridiculously lifted my butt up off the seat, and then turned to face the window, giving her a full view of my backside. Luckily, there were no cars near the bus window and nobody saw me.

I waited for a few moments with my hips up off the seat, and let her drink in the sight of my bare arse.

I flexed my glutes to give her the best show possible. I knew that I had a good butt. She clicked her teeth again.

"Very, very nice," the woman purred. "Your body is so smooth and hairless...you western men are just as vain and immodest as your women. Sit back down."

I turned and sat back down, my member flopping against my thighs. The woman then shockingly reached for my cock with her left hand. I gasped.

She fondled it gently, rolling it around her fingers, and feeling its soft, tightening skin. She cooed quietly.

With surprising speed, the woman released my cock, and then darted her left hand up under her niqab.

I heard a spitting sound, and her saliva-covered hand then grabbed at my cock again, my member stiffening further at her touch.

"I am going to make you release your manly essence right here on this bus," the woman purred. "You Australian pervert...you sick man."

"You can't do this," I lamely pleaded. "You can't touch my penis like this! You have to stop this now."

"Until I get off this bus," the woman hissed, "your penis is mine! I will do what I like with it."

The woman laughed and gripped my cock even tighter. She slid her fist up and down, and the saliva all over her hand made for an easier glide.

The mysterious Muslim looked down at me and her eyes sparkled as she pumped away. She clearly loved this too.

This unassuming Muslim woman really knew what she was doing, and I could easily tell that she was no novice when it came to wrist work. Could she have actually been a married woman?

A married, devout Muslim woman that roamed Sydney's bus system pantsing and molesting young men? These erotically taboo thoughts made the experience even sexier and more illicit.

I quietly moaned, and then looked around the bus nervously, desperately hoping that nobody could see us.

"You don't want me to stop fondling you," the woman sneered. "Even on a public bus, you can't restrain yourself."

"No, I can't," I croaked. "I love it. Don't stop. Make me come...please. Keep going. Please make me come."

"You simpering pervert," the woman said. "You have no control over your basest instincts."

The Muslim woman worked my shaft up and down. She expertly found the right rhythm, and quickly sent me on my way to an orgasm.

She cranked my cock harder. My breathing quickened. I was nearly there. My body tensed up, and waves of pleasure flooded through me.

I tried desperately to hold off the orgasm. I had a very unfortunate habit of orgasming quickly when I was extremely aroused, and the woman had only been jerking me off for two minutes. I was nearly there already.

I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop myself. I groaned. I moaned. I licked my lips. I bucked my hips against the woman's pounding hand, and I heard her laugh knowingly at my enthusiasm.

Just as a wet, sticky stream of jizz blasted out of my cock, the woman slapped my tool up against my stomach, forcing me to blow all over my t-shirt.

My cock erupted again, sending another pearly rope of cum all over my t-shirt. Then another stream dribbled out, and I was done.

I'd clearly embarrassed myself by ejaculating so soon. I felt that all-too-familiar wave of humiliation wash over me as I was once again exposed as a premature ejaculator. I sighed with resignation.

"I pity your sexual partner," the woman said plainly. "You have a very large phallus, but it obviously provides only the briefest of pleasures."

This woman really knew how to stick it in. I slumped back against the bus seat, still shocked and humiliated at what had just happened.

My softening cock dangled back over the edge of the seat, slowly dripping cum onto the floor. I quickly grabbed at my shorts and underwear to cover myself.

The woman casually pressed the stop button, and then wiped her hand back and forth on my shorts, cleaning off the saliva and traces of semen that stuck to her palm and fingers.

She looked at me and her eyes sparkled again with mischief.

"You are a disgusting animal," she said with the hint of a giggle, clearly aware of her obvious hypocrisy. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Meditate on your filthy behaviour while you enjoy your infidel's Christmas celebrations."

With that, the woman grabbed her bag, stood up, and then walked casually to the front of the bus.

She made no eye contact with anybody, and when the bus pulled up to the curb, she calmly walked off. She stood on the footpath and waited for the bus to drive off.

I looked back at the mysterious Muslim woman as the bus pulled away from the curb. She stood enigmatically immobile.

Her black robes billowed in the breeze, and the woman looked directly and fearlessly at me.

Her chocolate-coloured eyes glistened in the cloudy haze outside. Their familiar dazzling sense of mischief sent a pulse of excitement racing through my slack, embarrassingly semen-stained body.

This devout Muslim woman had taken complete control of me on a public bus. She had humiliated me by pantsing me, jerking me off to an early orgasm, and then leaving me covered in jizz with my mouth agape in shock. She had totally owned me.

As the bus continued its journey to the shopping centre, I sucked in a few deep breaths, and replayed what had just happened in my mind.

I'd had many strange and very hot sexual experiences recently, but this was a true stand-alone.

I'd enjoyed every minute of this cross-denominational Christmas treat: I was an Anglo-Aussie guy who started the bus trip by looking at pics of busty Israeli girls and ended it by getting molested and jerked off by a devout Muslim woman.

That's what I call multicultural Christmas spirit.

I also realised that despite the old adage, sometimes it is actually better to receive -- at least in the case of an illicit, perfectly delivered, bus ride hand-job - than it is to give...