The notebook of a married woman on the bus [Complete Collection]

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

Since I "hooked" a super hot young woman last December, I hadn't "hooked" anyone else until February 12th of the new year. It
wasn't that I hadn't taken the bus, but the bus and time were just not right.
Also , even though I was in the south and dressed lightly, I still didn't feel good, so sometimes
I'd give up. I'm the kind of person who'd rather have nothing than something bad; I have strict requirements for the quality of "hooks." I
only managed a few pleasant butt-touching moments, which I can't even remember now.

Time flew by, and the new year arrived quickly. People say a new year brings new beginnings, and our "bus service" should also have a good
start , so on February 12th, I decided to go out and try again, hoping for a great start. Later, it
turned out that my decision was right, and it strengthened my resolve for the new year. It happened to be Saturday. I'd checked
the weather forecast beforehand; the high on the 12th would reach 28 degrees Celsius, which was good news for me. Such weather
meant I'd encounter many girls wearing skirts. In the afternoon, I showered, changed, and specifically wore bus shorts
—a pair of loose-fitting, thin pants. Full of anticipation, I set off.

At 5:45, a fully packed bus arrived. I didn't rush to get on; I observed the situation, mainly to gauge
the crowd size and the quality of the girls. As usual, I chose my target from the crowd about to board. A
young woman in a brown skirt caught my eye. The front door was already packed and wouldn't open; everyone was entering through the back door.
(Here I want to share some personal experience. When boarding from the back door, never be the first to board unless you see a good target
already . But if you're the first, you'll quickly be pushed to the center of the bus by the crowd that boards later.
Everyone knows that the middle is the most spacious part of the bus with the best view, so it's generally not easy to get in smoothly.
Nor should you board last, because on such a crowded bus, if you board last, you're likely to be the
one with your face pressed against the rear door window. Unless you have a suitable target next to you, even if you see other targets, you can only
sigh and regret it. The best thing to do is board in the middle of the crowd. If the opportunity is good, you can board close to your target and
follow where they stop. But you must stay close, otherwise you'll easily be pushed aside by others. Even if you don't encounter such a good opportunity,
you'll have room to choose and can choose from those in front, behind, left, and right.)

I used a lateral movement technique. When I saw my target boarding, I suddenly cut in from the side of the line,
and in the instant before the door opened, I was right behind her. There were more people inside than I expected. After boarding through the back door
, she pushed towards the front of the bus. I pushed her waist tightly, pressing myself against her as I moved forward. Unfortunately, there were too many people in front, and I
stopped just past the back door's pole at a row of seats. There were too many people in front; it was impossible to get through.
This was better; at least people getting on and off wouldn't affect us.

After a moment, we stopped and looked around. To our left was a young man, to our right a couple embracing
by the pole, and behind and to my right a girl. The people behind me and to my left were facing away from me, holding onto the handrails.
The environment was quite ideal. My only concern was that the young man on my left might
see me touching him, but I had a way to deal with that.

I was secretly pleased the moment I boarded, and now I was ecstatic. Just thinking about it made me excited.
But hold on a second, let me observe the woman in front of me first. She had a bag slung over her right shoulder, her right hand resting on
the seat back, and her left hand gripping the handrail. She wasn't very tall; gripping the handrail made her waist lean slightly forward
, her hips slightly protruding. She wore a pink silk fitted t-shirt and a black knee-length tulle skirt. Her hair was
wavy From behind, I could not only smell the delicate fragrance of her bra, but also see
the marks on her back and a thin gold necklace around her fair neck. Judging by my assessment, she was between 30 and 35 years old. While
slightly curves were still alluring, her skin was still smooth and fair, and her attire was so appropriate. She must
be a woman who has time and pays attention to skincare. It's a blessing to have met such a woman so soon after opening my business.

Before I knew it, the car had driven a hundred meters. This route is like this—lots of cars and many traffic lights,
but that suited me perfectly. I held onto the handrail with my left hand and had my right hand in my pocket, waiting for the right moment. Just as the car stopped at a red light,
I used the braking inertia to press my lower body against the raised part of the penis. A warm, soft sensation
came from below. (Before getting on the bus, I had already taken my penis out of my ripped underwear. These homemade
underwear have a hole in the front. When you encounter someone taller who wants to stick their penis up and press it against their buttocks
, the underwear can provide support without having to adjust it with your hands. When you encounter someone of similar height, you can easily push and rub it up, down,
left right. When you encounter someone shorter, you can press your penis down so that it can be squeezed against their buttocks. The person I met today
was just the right height, so the second method was suitable.)

After the car came to a stop, I tentatively didn't move my lower body. I quickly glanced around to make sure
no one was paying attention, then focused my gaze on the side of the woman's face where she might turn back.
While the car remained stationary, my lower body pressed firmly against her buttocks, pushing forward with force.
I wasn't sure exactly where my penis was against her buttocks, as I didn't look down, but the force I exerted was very real. I wanted her to know that
the force pushing her buttocks forward wasn't from the car's movement, but from the
man —me.

She didn't turn around, not even to the side, neither pushing back nor moving forward, completely yielding to my
force. At that moment, I judged two possibilities: one, she knew there was a man behind her, but she
couldn't be sure if it was intentional or due to being pushed passively, so she didn't react; two, because my
attention wasn't focused and my penis wasn't fully erect, she was slow to warm up and wasn't in a hurry to react. So she was quite
clever and experienced, able to adapt to any situation. But for me, one thing was certain: it was
safe. I could confidently push her without causing strong resistance. As for whether she would cooperate, that would have to wait and see
.

The car started moving again. At this moment, I tentatively moved my lower body away a little, while also looking down at
the position of her buttocks to see what position I should take. But my hand was still in my pocket, not in a hurry
to take it out. Sure enough, when we made a right turn, her buttocks, along with her fragrant back, pressed tightly against
my chest. Looking at her fair neck, smelling her fragrance, and with her buttocks pressing against me, my penis instantly became erect. Only with an erect penis
could I fully feel the soft, warm buttocks under the young woman's thin gauze skirt. My toes, penis,
and inner thighs were completely fused with her full, round buttocks, as if enveloping her.

Soon, the car straightened up, and I felt that her butt hadn't moved. At this point, I felt it was okay. I slowly adjusted
the position of my penis against her butt, and soon I could feel the shape of her cleft. Her butt
was very prominent in this kind of clothing. The curves of her waist, the curves of her buttocks, the cleft of her buttocks, and the curves and shapes of her thighs were all
so obvious. Through the thin pants, my penis seemed to be pushing hard inside, while my two testicles were
pressed tightly against her buttocks. With the swaying of the car, I could feel the friction between our bodies. A warm
feeling kept hitting my brain. I was still in a hurry not to take my hand out. I wanted to feel this feeling a little longer. I was afraid that
my eagerness would make her worry and pull away.

Everything continued. She still didn't turn around, but suddenly
started —it turned out they were together. I hadn't noticed for so long on the bus that the couple embracing
were with her. Watching others being affectionate, the young woman in front of me started to show a
hint of . I felt her lean back a little, though very faint, but it was real, and
she would sway from time to time. The effect of her actions on me was that my swollen glans
felt engorged with blood under such friction, and even a little painful. I thought that squeezing too tightly might not be good either, as it would leave no room for
maneuver , so I moved back a little, but not as tightly as she did.

A short while later, I noticed her high-heeled legs moving. At first, I thought she was going to
stomp on my foot, so I cautiously moved my feet to keep within a safe range. Then I realized she was just spreading
her legs slightly apart, her legs seemingly forming an "O" shape as she lifted her buttocks. I was scared. I hadn't expected her pleasure
to be so intense and so urgent. When I sensed this movement, I let go.
When I clearly felt her lifting her buttocks again, I spread my legs and pressed them against her thighs. My
hand my hard penis, and through her pants, I used the back of my hand to find the exact spot in her buttock cleft and started poking it. She
must have felt it.

Later, I found that this was too troublesome and the pleasure was limited to the head, so I pressed my penis down,
first letting the cleavage clamp it, then forcefully lifting it upwards, freeing my hand. I later found that this method, which I often used
, brought me much better pleasure. As soon as my right hand was freed
, I went straight to the point without any probing. I first placed my hand on the junction of her buttocks and waist. The feel of this place was really good, plump and soft.

She turned her handbag to the front, probably worried that I was stealing something, but she didn't react much else. To dispel her
concerns, I slowly moved my hand down, using half of my palm, that is, the base of my thumb and part of
my fingertips to touch her. Her buttocks under the thin gauze skirt were very clear, the temperature and fleshiness were so obvious, and I could
feel the outline of her underwear. But I couldn't leave my hand there for too long, as the sweat on my hand would
make her uncomfortable. So I carefully served the buttocks in front of me using the same method that Brother Pig's Hand used.
I wouldn't miss such an opportunity.

The young woman still occasionally spoke a few words, and would sometimes lean back against me, making me feel quite embarrassed.
Observing the people around us, we realized our lower bodies were in a blind spot, which was perfect. The young woman still didn't turn around,
just silently cooperating. From this, I deduced that she was also a practical type in her work. Ejaculating on her today seemed like
a no-brainer, even external ejaculation. I had accumulated enough fluid and the right environment, but I
didn't want to do it. This was a landmark experience in my public transport history, and I didn't want to ejaculate externally
on the black dress of such a cooperative, obedient, and seductive young woman who seemed to understand me perfectly, even if it meant getting my freshly
changed pants wet.

Time passed slowly. Due to traffic, the car moved slowly, stopping and starting, idling. Occasionally, there would be a sudden stop or
a turn, and the young woman's buttocks would occasionally sway or stick out. I would also occasionally hold my penis and press it hard against her
vulva. Everything around me seemed to disappear. The world consisted of just the two of us. I could no longer care about the surrounding
environment or the surprised or contemptuous looks that the girl to my right and the young man to my left might give me. My mind was
blank. I don't know when, but my other hand, which was holding the handrail, also came down and gripped the young woman's waist.
Finally, with my breath held, with my testicles and penis rubbing hotly against her vulva and buttocks, and with one hand
holding the young woman's waist and the other covering her buttocks, I erupted like magma with unstoppable force.

I didn't move away, but let my brother throb violently between my legs and on my buttocks. There was a lot of semen coming
out, hot and flowing quickly down my thighs and onto my calves. I couldn't help but
shiver scalding semen had probably already soaked through the several layers of gauze separating our bodies. She probably
felt the commotion caused by the throbbing of my penis behind her. She finally turned her head back, and I finally
had a close eye contact with her. For a moment, I felt a trace of resentment or complaint in her eyes,
but she quickly turned her head away again. At the same time, her hand reached behind her to touch her buttocks. Before I could
move my still-erect penis away, her hand reached over to touch her buttocks.

My heart skipped a beat, my emotions a jumble of panic, self-reproach, and excitement. As she
touched her own buttocks with lightning speed, she also touched my penis. Frankly, I was terrified at that moment,
but instead, I felt an overwhelming surge of excitement. The instant she touched my penis, she swiftly withdrew her hand, and my soon-to
-be-limp penis instantly became erect again. The post-ejaculation erection seemed even stronger and more
powerful . She appeared uneasy after withdrawing her hand, a palpable unease, yet she feigned calmness. This
stirred a pang of pity and guilt in me. She tried to move, but there was nowhere to go; she merely shifted her body slightly,
but that meant nothing to me.

After that mental experience, my erection became impossible to suppress. I intensified my efforts,
pressing against her right buttock and slowly turning to try and reach her from behind. My hands became even more unrestrained, increasing
the area and pressure, fully experiencing the soft, full buttocks beneath the woman's thin gauze skirt. I felt like I was out of
control; I was like a madwoman. This feeling, which I always regretted afterward, filled
me and a conflicted, agonizing sensation. It was an irresistible, yet agonizing, experience.

The woman seemed helpless against my passion, perhaps just hoping to get off the bus sooner. The more she acted this way, the more
excited I became. My penis remained in a state of extreme arousal. Perhaps my excessive enthusiasm moved her, and she forgot...
Having learned her lesson, she started twisting and thrusting again. Now I really don't know whether I should thank her
or she should thank me. Three minutes before the stop, I ejaculated again. This time there wasn't much fluid, and she
didn't seem as uneasy as before. Instead, she waited quietly for the bus to stop before getting off. I respectfully made
way , letting her go first. Just as she was about to get off, I squeezed her hard again and followed her off.
My lower back was a little sore after getting off; standing for over thirty minutes and ejaculating twice had left me very tired. I had planned to follow her
for a while to see where this well-behaved young woman lived, but I was too tired and too satisfied, so I followed her for a short distance and then turned
back.

This time, I broke some of my personal records: the longest and most precise time I'd ever touched her buttocks and groin, the only
time I'd ejaculated twice, and the most harmonious time we'd ever been together. She ushered in a new era for my 2006 bus career,
and also gave me a lot to think about. We all live in contradictions.

Back in the 80s, we also did it on buses. I remember on Chaowai Street, at bus stop 11x, in winter, that girl, after we did it once, actually waited for the bus at the same time, so we did it again. How exciting! It's a pity I've never seen her again. She even let me put my hand inside her cotton pants to touch her. I remember once on bus 332, in the summer, I touched a pretty girl wearing an elastic-waist skirt. She seemed really happy, and even licked my fingers. Unfortunately, she ran off with her friend as soon as she got off the bus.

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The notebook of a married woman on the bus [Complete Collection]

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