Temptation of young boys on the bus (I play the seductive wife)

page views:1 Publication date:2023-06-11 10:39:16

The Temptation of a Young Man on the Bus (I'm the Seductive Wife)
My husband has been away on a business trip for over a month. Because of his work, he frequently travels to branch offices or factories in other counties and cities. This time, because a new branch office was established in the south, the company naturally sent him there to oversee it. My husband and I have been married for over four years. In these four years, I've transformed from an innocent young girl into a mature woman, and in the multinational company I work for, I've risen from a junior administrative assistant to the training manager in charge of consumer training for the Taiwan region.

Our busy work schedules keep us traveling all over the country, and we've only really spent about half the time together since we got married.

But sometimes I think that perhaps it's precisely this constant separation that has strengthened our relationship!

When we are together, our days are always full of passion, both emotionally and physically. My husband always comes up with many ideas for us to try all sorts of sex games. At first, I wasn't used to those stimulating and daring games, but as I gradually got used to them, I started to love them too. Therefore, trying various sexual games has become an indispensable part of our lives, whether we are together or apart.

Even when we are apart, we create games through the phone or the internet to enjoy and release our desires. As

I sat on this luxurious tour bus heading south, I secretly rejoiced that I had caught the last southbound bus of the day.

When I got off work today, the company made a last-minute decision to send me on a business trip to the south to help with employee training at the company we had recently acquired. There was no time to book a plane ticket for that day, so in order to see my husband as soon as possible, I went straight to the long-distance bus station after leaving the company. Finally, I boarded this bus at the last minute, panting.

It was a luxurious tour bus, with spacious and comfortable seats. The TVs overhead were constantly playing pirated videos, which made the journey of several hours much more relaxing.

Besides me, there were only two other passengers on the bus. In the third-to-last row from the back sat a fairly handsome young man with slightly curly short hair, fair and clean skin, and bright eyes. He looked to be about twenty-two or twenty-three years old. A black laptop bag sat next to him; he was probably going on a business trip like me.

I walked past the other passenger in front of me and stood in the empty aisle. After hesitating for a moment, I went to the third-to-last row and sat down on the other side of the aisle. The young man next to me glanced at me, smiled, and greeted me. Ever since I became obsessed with Meteor Garden, I suddenly realized that this 28-year-old woman could actually be interested in much younger men, a departure from my tastes when I was in my early twenties, where I was only attracted to mature men.

"Hey! Honey!" I called my husband. I'd been rushing to catch the bus since getting off work and hadn't even told him I was coming to see him.

"Really? You're coming to my city on a business trip too! That's great! I'll pick you up when you arrive!" My husband seemed excited knowing I was coming to see him.

"Once you get here, we can have some fun!"

"What kind of fun...?" I teased him.

"What else could we do! Of course, we'll play with my beloved wife!" His voice was full of provocation.

"Or I could consider... letting you play with me...!!"

I felt the boy across the hallway glance at me. My phone's speaker has always been malfunctioning, especially loud. This feeling of having my privacy invaded made my heart pound.

Ever since my husband and I played a game of sexually harassing the guest next door with our voices in a hotel in mainland China a few years ago, I've felt like it actually stimulates my own pleasure. That feeling of being the heroine in someone else's fantasy really gives me a special kind of pleasure. Perhaps subconsciously, it's a way of exposing my thoughts and impulses!

And my husband...! He believed that the foundation of sex between partners should be based on mutual pleasure, so when he knew I felt excited and aroused by this kind of exposure, he felt even more excited and aroused!

"So... how do you want to play?" I pretended not to know that the boy next to me could hear my conversation with my husband. I deliberately used the hand closer to the boy to pick up my phone and moved it slightly away from my cheek so that the sound from the phone could be more easily heard.

"Hehe! What? Is there a young and handsome guy next to you?" My husband was smart; he knew what type of person I was fantasizing about lately.

"Hehe..." My husband's words made my face slightly flush. That was a bit too explicit. I quickly pressed the phone to my ear, hoping that the boy next to me hadn't heard what I just said, otherwise it would have been embarrassing.

"Haha! I knew it! I guessed it! ... I'm still busy at the company. I'll call you back later when I get home, and then we can play some little games. Okay! I'm going to get busy now!"

"Okay! Hurry up!" I hung up the phone, wondering what kind of game my husband wanted to play with me this time. I suddenly remembered a story I'd read online about sex on a long-distance bus. Thinking of this, I secretly glanced at the boy next to me, and my heart started pounding again. I felt a little wet down there.

The early spring weather was still chilly, but the bus had the heater on. I took off my coat. Since I didn't have time to go home to change, I was still wearing the silver-gray suit I wore in the office. I knew my husband liked me to wear a business suit when we made love, and thinking about it made it even harder to suppress my desire.

Actually, I've always been a woman with a strong sex drive, but outwardly I always appear to be a beautiful and proper office lady.

When I was little, I didn't really understand what "sex" was. I just sometimes had strange feelings when I saw handsome men. I was probably fourteen or fifteen when I started masturbating. At first, I would just hide under the covers, put a pillow between my legs, and squeeze it tightly, and it felt really good.

Later, when I understood more, I would fantasize about my crush touching me when I couldn't sleep at night. At first, I would just touch my developing breasts, but then I couldn't help but keep touching down my abdomen. But when my fingers touched my pubic area, where new hair had just grown, I didn't dare to touch any further.

Finally, one time I couldn't resist anymore, so I pulled a small piece of cotton out of the covers, pinched it between my fingers, and used it to rub my clitoris. I think that was the first time I experienced an orgasm. When the pleasure surged like a tidal wave, it really startled me. After that, I became addicted to masturbation. Sometimes I would masturbate once or twice a day, and sometimes I couldn't fall asleep at all if I didn't masturbate at night.

Since then, I've developed a habit of masturbating with soft objects, and I still haven't broken the habit of touching my clitoris with soft objects. So I always keep a glasses cloth in my bag. Some friends have noticed and wondered, "Why do I always carry a glasses cloth when I don't wear glasses?" Sometimes they even jokingly ask me if it's a love token from some boy! But only I know the special purpose of the glasses cloth.

As I get older, my sex drive seems to be getting stronger. I always carry several panty liners in my bag at work because my genitals often get inexplicably wet, so I have to change them at least four or five times a day.

Sometimes, while working, my mind gets occupied by erotic thoughts, and when I can't resist, I run to the bathroom and use my glasses cloth. Later, when I got busier at work, I naturally didn't have as much energy or time to think about it, but still, many times, I suddenly have the urge to masturbate. Usually, at this time, I subconsciously cross my legs under my desk and squeeze them tightly, like when I was a child squeezing a pillow between my legs. Sometimes, when no one is looking, I'll secretly put a small apple underneath, which makes it feel even more "full," and sometimes I can even reach orgasm!

One particularly stimulating experience was in the company conference room. I was leaning against the conference table, making a phone call to a client, with the table corner resting between my legs. The man on the other end was someone I generally liked. As I spoke, I unconsciously pressed the table corner against my genitals. Suddenly! I discovered that this angle and pressure could so easily bring me pleasure. My colleagues outside were busy, and even if they looked in through the window, they only saw me subtly swaying on the phone.

Gradually, I could even feel my breathing becoming heavier in the receiver. The man on the other end politely asked, "Are you sick?"

Just as I replied, "No!", my orgasm suddenly hit me. I stopped mid-sentence, struggling to control myself and not make any loud noise. That orgasm was truly extraordinary!

From then on, whenever I had the chance, I would call the man I liked but could never have a special relationship with from the conference room table. When I got home at night, I would fantasize about the man on the other end of the phone masturbating in his own way while talking to me. This thought would usually make me fall into a deep sleep after the pleasure of masturbation.

The bus had been traveling for about half an hour, and the sky was gradually darkening. The setting sun shone through the window, casting a lazy, relaxed glow on me. I moved to a window seat, took off the high heels that had been binding me all day, and because my body was leaning against the seat back and the window, I stretched my legs out onto the seat next to me. My short skirt, which was already quite long, was pulled up slightly to my thighs, revealing glimpses of my fair skin above the top of my stockings. A boy at the other end of the aisle couldn't help but turn around and glance at my long legs. When he noticed my gaze, he casually asked, "Was the long bus ride tiring?"

"Yes!" I smiled and replied, unconsciously pulling down my skirt.

"My legs are killing me from standing all day at work," I added.

"You just got off work and are heading south? Is it for a business trip?" he asked with a sly smile.

"Yeah! What about you?" I answered him, thinking to myself, "From his angle, I wonder if he can see my underwear...?"

Although I harbored a secret exhibitionist desire, the exhibitionist games I played before were always in public or at some distance. Now, being alone in such close proximity to a strange man made me feel quite uncomfortable. Thinking about it, I unconsciously moved my legs off the chair again.

"I'm going on a business trip too!" I noticed his gaze following my legs. "I'm

going to the restroom..." Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, I stood up, intending to take off my stockings and finally free my toes.

The bus, traveling at high speed, was still a bit bumpy on the highway. The excellent suspension system made the bus bob up and down rhythmically like a small boat on the sea. I held onto the rows of seats and walked to the middle of the bus, down a few steps leading to the emergency exit. The restroom was crammed into a small corner. The toilet door handle was embedded in a round black groove. I pulled hard, but the door wouldn't budge.

"I don't know either! The door just won't open. I'll go ask the driver!" I replied sheepishly.

"Let me see! You have to turn the handle." He said, walking down two steps and extending his hand. In this narrow passageway, barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through sideways, I quickly stepped back, leaning back slightly.

"It seems there really is a problem!" He twisted the handle left and right with force, but the door only seemed to open a tiny crack. He had to take another step, making the space even narrower. I tried to move up a step to give him room. Just then, he bent over and tried to open the door. As I moved behind him, his buttocks landed heavily on my lower abdomen.

"Ouch! Oh my god...!!" I couldn't help but cry out, pushing his waist with both hands. Instantly, I felt his lower back working hard, strong and elastic.

"Oops! I'm so sorry! I bumped into you..." He clearly hadn't expected to bump into me. Startled, he spun around abruptly, his elbow slamming into my right breast.

"Ouch!... Ouch???" I gasped in pain, clutching my right breast with both hands. It really hurt!

The boy quickly turned around, his hands raised high as he did so, as if afraid I'd accuse him of groping me. But this area was too small; as he turned, his hips rubbed against my lower abdomen.

I stood on tiptoe, leaning back forcefully, quickly moving my hands away from my chest, trying to push his hips away. But in that instant, he had already turned around, and my right hand landed squarely on his lower abdomen. "Oh my god!" I couldn't help but cry out again, because I realized his penis was erect and hard in his crotch, and my hand was right on top of it.

"Ah! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I apologized repeatedly, but in my heart I thought, "Men are no good. He bumped into me so hard, and he still has a physical reaction!"

"It's okay! It's okay!" His hand was still raised high, and I saw that his face was slightly red, obviously embarrassed. I had discovered his secret. "Hmph! Of course you're okay! But he's actually shy! Luckily, he's probably not the kind of man who's too lecherous."

In this cramped space, I struggled to move my body towards the upper steps. The bus was still bumping around, and my lower abdomen was rubbing against his. I could feel that his thing seemed even harder than before. My hands were helplessly protecting my chest. I pushed his chest and felt that he was a strong boy. He also smelled of shower gel, which made me almost forget the pain in my chest.

Finally, I climbed up the steps as if I were escaping. I turned around and saw him still struggling with the toilet door. My heart was pounding wildly. Looking at the beads of sweat on his forehead, I felt a surge of attraction towards him. I bent down to see how he was dealing with the door. As I leaned forward, I felt my breasts swaying with the car's bumps, as if they were about to burst free from my bra.

"How is it? Still can't open it?" I asked him, still bent over.

"Yeah! Still can't open it!" He looked up at me, and instantly, I felt his gaze fixed on the inside of my neckline. But I also realized that I wasn't really bothered by his gaze anymore.

I've always had a habit of buying bras a size larger because I don't like the feeling of being tightly constricted. Later, when I became obsessed with exhibitionism, loose bras, especially strapless ones like the one I'm wearing, became incredibly convenient.

I love wearing low-cut tops to the supermarket. Whenever I bend down to look for something in the freezer, I can feel the men next to me staring into my neckline. Sometimes, they can even see my nipples through the top edge of my loose bra!

I genuinely enjoy being watched by men. I'm glad I discovered exhibitionism early on; it allows me to experience so much pleasure. The feeling of having men see my nipples while wearing a bra is completely different from simply being seen through the neckline when I'm not wearing a bra. It's the difference between intentional and accidental exposure. Perhaps it's the same for men, but for me, the pleasure is vastly different!

But for these kinds of exhibitionist games, I always need to be in a public place or with other people around. Otherwise, I feel insecure. I only feel safe in public or with other people present, and only then can I have fun.

So when this boy in front of me stared at me like that, I still felt very uneasy. But when I saw him struggling to open the bathroom door for me, I began to forgive his slightly shy but bold behavior. Maybe I'm just a naturally wanton woman!

"What's wrong...?" After messing around like this for a long time, we finally disturbed the passenger in the front seat who was sleeping. He was a thin, balding man, probably in his forties.

"The bathroom door won't open." I said, turning my body to the side, facing the window and with my back to the aisle so he could walk through, because I didn't want to be groped by a man like him. He reeked of cooking oil and rubbed against me. As the boy got on, the car continued to sway, and I felt his hand, hanging limply, intentionally or unintentionally rubbing against my buttocks with the car's movement. That lecherous old man, so disgusting!

The boy finally gave up and replaced the wretched old man beside me. The old man staggered off, glanced at the door, and said, "The lock's broken, I can't open it!"

"What do we do?" the boy asked, wiping his sweat.

"Let's stop at the rest area later!" he said maliciously.

With no other option, we all returned to our seats.

It was already dark. An old movie was playing on TV. I turned on the wall lamp, took out my laptop, and casually browsed some documents. My right breast, which the boy had bumped into earlier, felt swollen and strange. I felt my nipple was hard and erect, even more sensitive than when my husband touched it. How strange! Why did it feel like this after being bumped?

I'd talked to my husband about BDSM before. We weren't really into sadomasochistic sex. I couldn't understand how dripping hot wax on breasts could be pleasurable. But now, I think I understand a little. Thinking about it, my hand unconsciously went back to my right breast and gently massaged it. Occasionally, I looked up and suddenly realized the boy across the aisle was secretly watching me again.

"Are you alright? Still in pain?" He asked awkwardly when he noticed my gaze, but his eyes remained fixed on my hand movements.

"I'm fine, it doesn't hurt much anymore!" I smiled softly, my hand still gently pressing on my chest. I wasn't as uneasy as before. He was just a kind, shy boy, and I hadn't done anything wrong.

We chatted casually like that. Just like when I got on the bus, I put my legs up on the seat next to me and leaned towards the window. The overhead light shone on me, and under it, I realized my legs looked really sexy and alluring.

"This bus ride is quite comfortable, but my legs are killing me," I complained, placing my hands on my legs.

"Yeah! Long bus rides are tiring!" He took the opportunity to glance at my legs a few more times.

"By the way! Not being able to go to the toilet is such a hassle, are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh! It's alright, I was thinking of taking off my stockings in the toilet to feel more comfortable." I felt more relaxed in his presence. He didn't say anything, and what could he say?

Looking at his honest appearance, a strange thought suddenly popped into my head: I wanted to take off my stockings in this speeding bus, under such soft lighting, next to this honest boy. This thought lingered in my mind; I felt my heart racing, like I was about to steal something, and my lower body started to get wet.

After several attempts to make up my mind, I finally closed my laptop, put it aside, and moved my legs off the seat. A few seconds later, I mustered my courage, reached under my skirt, and lifted it about twenty centimeters above my knee. The boy was clearly startled by my movement.

I gently pulled down the tops of my stockings, turning my head and smiling at him, saying, "I think it'll be easier if I take them off!"

"Yeah, right!" he stammered, but his eyes remained fixed on my legs. I gently pulled down both stockings. As they were removed, I felt myself getting wet. When I pulled them all the way down, I bent down and pulled them off from my toes.

As I bent over, I knew he must have been peeking through my neckline again, which made me even more excited. The feeling was completely different from when he had seen me near the bathroom.

After taking off my stockings, I put my legs back on the seat, completely exposed to the light. My fair skin glowed with a delicate sheen. I've always been very particular about my skincare, so my skin is always the kind that girls at the company envy.

I reopened my computer, but I couldn't concentrate on anything. I was thinking that even a guy I had a slight liking for could excite me so much. Was I really a very promiscuous woman, or did I subconsciously want to be one? The immense work pressure and the pretentious social interactions hadn't diminished my desires at all; on the contrary, this ever-surging need was growing stronger.

I remembered the first time my husband and I made love. I straddled him, cupped his face in my hands, and told him I wanted to show him how a charming lady could make love so wildly. Perhaps I was trying to cope with the pressure of work this way! I just never imagined that my husband would be an even bolder and more obsessed sex maker than I was.

I've always fantasized about having sex with two men at the same time. One of my favorite downloaded porn videos on my computer shows two men having sex with one woman, who is being fucked to the point of ecstasy.

My favorite sexual fantasy, used to enhance my sexual experience, is that I'm a comfort woman, being fucked in a military camp. It starts with the officers; lower-ranking officers and soldiers wait outside the tents for their superiors to fuck me. Inside, I'm being fucked to the point of ecstasy, moaning loudly and lewdly. The men outside hear my voice and get hard, then line up to fuck me. Those who can't wait peek through the crack in the door at me being fucked by their superiors, while they masturbate and ejaculate on the door. I reach orgasm again and again until my vagina is dry, then I'm forced to have sex again, and I reach another, wet, orgasm.

I'm almost obsessively fond of the feeling of making the men around me hard. I even fantasize about being fucked by men while many people are watching, and countless hands are groping my body.

I've discussed this with my husband, and he wants me to try online sex with other men in chat rooms, letting him watch me type things like "lick my pussy" or "fuck me hard" on the screen, and then he'll be in front of the computer, kneeling between my legs, licking or fucking me until I reach orgasm.

"Miss! This is dinner prepared on the bus!" That annoying old man interrupted my thoughts, lecherously handing me a thick sausage and a loaf of bread. In the blink of an eye, the bus had already been driving for an hour and a half.

I held the sausage in my hand, remembering the night my husband left. He used this same sausage, peeled off the plastic wrap, put on a condom, and then inserted it into me. After a while, he inserted it himself. Inside my body, my husband's penis and the sausage with the condom felt completely different. I closed my eyes and fantasized about two different men taking turns having sex with me. That time, I reached a very, very intense orgasm. Thinking... thinking... I really wished I could put this sausage into my vagina right now.

Just then, the phone rang. It was my husband calling.

"Hi! Honey, where are you? Miss me?"

"Miss you! About halfway there!"

"By the way! Didn't you call me the other day and say you learned a new way to 'play by yourself' from a comic book?" I secretly glanced at the boy on the other end, wondering if he had heard my husband's voice on the other end of the line.

"Playing by myself" is what my husband and I call masturbation. Because we spend a lot of time apart, we're always thinking of ways to satisfy ourselves.

"Yeah! That method is quite interesting! I'll 'play' for you later!" I guessed the boy next to me might not understand what "playing by myself" meant, so I spoke more boldly.

"But... I want to see you 'play by yourself' right now!"

"How can I see? You can't see!" I pouted at him.

"I can't see, but other people can! Just tell me what other people's reactions are!" This sly husband of mine, he's really lecherous. He wouldn't actually make me masturbate in the car, would he?

"No way! That method is too complicated. How can I 'play' in the car?" I changed the subject.

"Are there many people in the car?" my husband continued.

"No, but there's a handsome guy across the aisle next to me!" I whispered, glancing furtively at the boy next to me to see if he was eavesdropping.

"Haha...haha!" My husband laughed happily; he always liked to tease me like this.

"Isn't that perfect for you?"

"No way! There's nothing here, and you're not here either; it feels weird."

"I'll keep you company on the phone! ...What do you need?" he asked curiously.

"I need...I need...at least a pair of pantyhose!" My husband's words encouraged me, and I became bolder. I saw the boy next to me glance in my direction; I think he must be guessing what we were talking about.

"But I just took off all my stockings!" I liked teasing my husband like this on the phone, and I also liked the feeling of the boy next to us guessing what we were talking about.

"Haha! You couldn't wait and started playing already? You didn't even wait for me!" My husband teased me.

"Hehe!...I couldn't wait!" I started to act coquettishly.

"Who told you to say you'd call right away, but then you made me wait so long?" I saw the boy next to me lean his head further towards the aisle; I knew he was listening to my conversation with my husband.

"Then... what do you need the pantyhose for? Do you want to play SM?" my husband continued to press.

"No! You know I don't like SM..." At this point, I suddenly realized I'd let something slip; the boy was definitely going to be shocked.

"Then how do you want to use it? Tell me quickly!"

"How am I supposed to explain that...?" I stammered. Wasn't this asking me to tell a lewd story in front of a strange man?

"Whatever you want! Or... tell me how it's 'played' in comics first!" My husband was quite good at coaxing me.

"Well... it's..." I thought about how to phrase it better than just saying it.

"There's a girl who likes... that..."

"What 'that'? Explain yourself!" my husband teased me deliberately.

"It's... it's that... you know!"

"I don't know! Hehe..."

"It's... 'playing by yourself'!" I mustered my courage and said loudly. He was really something.

Considering how prevalent erotic phone calls and spicy jokes are these days, what's wrong with me making a phone call? I'm not exactly a hypocrite, especially since I was just joking around with my husband on the phone.

"So how does she 'play by herself'?"

"Well, when she was in school, she liked to play on the horizontal bar..."

"The horizontal bar??" My husband seemed quite surprised.

"Does she use the horizontal bar to penetrate herself?" His voice was deafening on the phone. I glanced at the boy and saw him trying not to laugh.

"No way! You idiot, she likes to ride on the horizontal bar!" I couldn't help but laugh too.

"Oh! That's nothing!"

"Yeah! But she really liked that feeling, and afterwards, she kept looking for similar things to 'play' with."

"So what did she 'play' with?"

"Every day when she went to school, she would always stand next to the back door of the bus."

"Why did she stand there?"

"Because there's a curved handrail that's about 100 centimeters high! She always leaned on that handrail... facing..."

"Oh!" My husband began to understand what I meant.

"And then...?" "

And then?... And then... you understand!"

"I don't understand!... Tell me quickly!"

"And then... and then... and then..." Although I had started to open up, I still didn't know how to say the more explicit parts.

"Then... she'll... she'll stand with her legs slightly apart! The part of the railing that curves towards the door will be positioned between her legs, and she can hold onto the part that curves towards the door. No one can tell that anything is wrong with her."

"Ah! Isn't that just like what you 'play' next to the table in the conference room? That's quite to your liking."

"Not only that! She's even more adept at it. Because the bus is crowded, especially with people getting off, they all squeeze past her from behind. So, people keep pushing her back and rubbing against her buttocks, like she's being pressed against the railing repeatedly. Sometimes she can 'come out' several times on the bus in one morning!" I think the boy next to me could probably guess that "come out" meant orgasm!

"That sounds really exciting! But what does that have to do with pantyhose?" My husband was clearly still not satisfied.

"Because she has other ways to play!"

"What other ways does she play?"

"When she gets home, of course, she enjoys it even more extravagantly!"

"How does she play?"

"When she gets home, she likes to take off all her clothes and walk around the room freely." I was no longer bothered by the boy next to me; having him as an audience made it even more exciting.

"She likes to be naked at home, just like you!"

"Their dining table has round legs; she had it custom-made, like the horizontal bar she used to play with as a child, only a bit thicker." "

But how does she play?"

"She sits on the floor, legs apart, and presses the round table leg against that spot..."

"What spot?" My husband teased me again.

"It's...it's...the spot where I'm wet right now...the spot you most want to fuck me!"

"And then?" Seeing that I had gotten to the point, my husband stopped teasing me and pressed on with the following story, clearly interested in it as well.

"Then she puts on a pair of pantyhose she had prepared, and the table leg between her legs is pulled tightly against her by the stretchy stockings..." The two men, one on the phone and one outside, listened intently to my story.

"Then she would grip the table leg and twist her hips forcefully, rubbing her labia and clitoris hard against the indentation created by her panties. When her body moved slightly away from the table leg, the elasticity of the pantyhose would pull her back, as if someone were really having sex with her."

At this moment, I heard my husband's heavy breathing on the phone. I knew he was already into the story, and he might even be rubbing his penis! Thinking about this, the boy next to me must have been as hard as he was at the bathroom door earlier. These thoughts excited me. I felt myself getting incredibly wet down there. I felt a ticklish emptiness, and my hand unconsciously went to my lower abdomen. I wanted to touch my wet, soft area through my skirt to give it some comfort.

"I used our clothesline!" I could hear my voice trembling slightly. My cheeks felt burning hot. Although my husband and I had made erotic phone calls together, the operators were all prostitutes, and I could only accompany my husband in harassing them. I had never told anyone about my masturbation experiences, let alone face-to-face with a strange man, while my husband was breathing heavily as if he were right next to me.

"Hmm... Keep going!" My husband was barely talking anymore; the phone was filled with eroticism.

"...I just put one end of the clothesline on the ground and the other end against the wall, then straddled it, and then put on my pantyhose. It felt really good!" I peeked over, and sure enough, the boy's pants were bulging with his penis. This reminded me of the feeling of that hard thing pressed against my lower abdomen at the bathroom door earlier. At this moment, I was filled with desire, but I couldn't release it; it felt like a fire was burning in my genitals.

"Darling, I really love you, this is so exciting, let's keep having fun!" I knew my husband had started his usual crazy antics again.

"How else do you want to 'play'? Isn't it enough that you made me talk about 'playing by myself'? I'm already so uncomfortable!" My voice trembled, full of temptation.

"Not enough... of course not enough, I know you're uncomfortable, that's why I'm continuing to 'play' with you!" My husband started his rampant tone again. I really liked him talking to me like this, I really don't understand why he just can't learn to swear.

"So how do you want to 'play'?"

"Hmm!... Let me think... Okay, first tell me what you're wearing today?"

"That beige coat! And your favorite silver-gray suit skirt."

"And what's underneath...?"

"Here we go again, of course it's underwear!"

"What kind of underwear?"

"The purple one, the strapless one." "

Then take off your underwear!"

"What...?" I couldn't believe my ears.

"There's someone next to me!" I said in a low voice.

"I know! Isn't this what you like me to do? I want you to come to me all wet, I want you to 'play' with me until you 'come' on the way, and when you can't take it anymore, you'll come to me." "

But..."

"You figure out how to take it off yourself! I'm hanging up now, call me when you're done!"

My husband hung up, the bus drove through the night, and the reading light above my head still silently shone on me.

"Hehe! You two are really open..." The boy had just come to his senses and spoke to me.

"Yeah! He always likes to mess around like this." I answered casually, but in my heart I was thinking: 'How can I take off my bra in front of him without him noticing?'

"Will it still hurt?" he asked me.

While I was talking to my husband on the phone, my right hand was actually on my right breast, which had been bumped and sore. It didn't hurt anymore; in fact, my nipple, which had been squeezed and rubbed, was still hard and erect, and it was inexplicably aroused by my husband's teasing. I had a convenient excuse to put my hand there and enjoy the sensation.

"It seems to hurt a little again!" I had just told him it didn't hurt anymore, but now I was saying it hurt a little again. Hearing my own answer was a little funny.

I answered while looking into his eyes, my hand still gently caressing my lucky breast. Good heavens! What's wrong with me today? I could actually touch my breast so openly in front of a strange man! My heart pounded again. Maybe I could use this as an excuse to take off my bra; even if he found out, it would be understandable.

Thinking of this, I stopped talking. I turned my head to look at the TV in front of me, my right hand hanging down from my chest and resting on my thigh. Then I switched to my left hand and gently rubbed my right breast. I could clearly feel my nipples rubbing against the loose bra, swelling and becoming engorged. This erotic feeling gradually gave me courage.

Slowly, I tried to move my left hand, which had been gently roaming over my right breast, back a little. My fingers moved to the cleavage exposed by the opening of my clothes. When my hand touched my breast, I felt a new kind of stimulation, different from the feeling of rubbing my breast through two layers of clothing. The stimulation was so clear and real.

My hand remained there for a while. I glanced at the young man out of the corner of my eye. He had turned his head away to watch the TV when he saw I wasn't talking anymore, but! I could feel that his eyes were still watching my movements. Actually! This was exactly the feeling I wanted. To unintentionally but clearly show it to him, allowing me to legitimately indulge my desires without unnecessary embarrassment.

At this point, I wasn't in a hurry to take off my bra. I wanted to slowly seduce this young man, to make him suffer the torment of desire just like me. I wanted to see if he would also be unable to resist putting his hand inside his pants.

My hand slowly slid from the center of my neckline inside my clothes, then gently slipped under my bra. My breasts were full and firm. My husband's teasing on the phone, combined with the accidental touch with the boy earlier, made me eager to truly caress my breasts.

As I placed my hand on my breasts, I kept a close eye on the young man's reaction. His proactive teasing only excited me more, and my fingers began to knead my nipples. The young man then placed his hand on his lower abdomen. I knew what was under his hand—the hard, warm thing I had accidentally touched before.

I savored this wonderfully erotic atmosphere. My right hand slipped inside my clothes from behind. At this point, I didn't need my husband's urging anymore; I wanted nothing more than to strip naked immediately. I longed to be a naked, wanton woman.

Unhooking my bra with one hand was incredibly difficult, so I had to reach both hands inside my clothes from behind, leaning slightly forward. My arms pulled the fabric up from under my skirt, revealing my smooth waist. The neckline was wide open from my shoulders, almost completely exposing my breasts, which were still wearing a bra. Just as the

snap on my back came undone with a "click," my phone suddenly rang. I was startled, and the young man was clearly startled too. He immediately pulled his hand away from his crotch and involuntarily looked in my direction. Clearly, without the phone call, this shy young man wouldn't have dared to look directly at me undressing.

As he looked over, the strapless bra's clasp suddenly loosened, and the entire bra slipped down. Although

I was burning with desire at that moment, ... I still couldn't bear the gaze of a strange man, fixed directly on my bare breasts. I frantically pulled my hands from behind my back, trying to catch my slipping bra, but because my neckline had been stretched too wide, part of the bra had already slipped out. My hands reacted reflexively, accidentally pulling at the bra that was already outside my neckline. In my panic, I couldn't stop, and instead of catching the bra, I pulled half of it out, leaving one of my full breasts exposed outside the disheveled neckline. At

that moment, I couldn't care less about the boy's reaction; I hurriedly pulled the entire bra out of the neckline and stuffed it into my bag.

My phone kept ringing. I grabbed it, slumped heavily back in my chair, and felt my heart pounding like a hammer in my chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.

"Hello!" I pressed the phone button, and sure enough, my husband's voice came through.

"Honey! ...Are you done undressing? Why didn't you call me? ...I can't wait any longer!"

"..." The tense atmosphere left me speechless. I felt completely weak and limp, as if I had just spent the whole night making love with my husband.

"Oh my god! You rascal, you almost scared me to death!" I pressed my hand to my chest, as if afraid my heart would jump out of my chest.

Just as my hand was on my chest, I realized again that I wasn't wearing a bra. Because I was holding the phone with my right hand raised, the right side of my collar was pushed up by my hand, and my right breast, which the boy had 'touched,' was now nakedly exposed to his gaze. My heart pounded violently again.

"Great! By the time you get here, you'll definitely be a horny little slut!" My husband seemed to sense my anxious excitement on the phone.

"I can't take it anymore and you're still saying that...! I'm not 'playing' with you anymore!" I genuinely couldn't handle the intense stimulation. I never imagined that this kind of exhibitionist game would be more exciting than any of the sex games my husband and I had together.

"No!... We want to keep 'playing'!" My husband's voice was equally excited.

"Ah!... You want to 'play' again? What do you want to 'play' again?...?" Was he going to make me take off my underwear too?... I was worried, but I was also somewhat looking forward to my husband's instructions. I'm such a slut! I thought...

"Next, of course, is the game of taking off your panties!" Sure enough, my husband gave the instruction I had been hoping for deep down.

"How am I supposed to take it off here?!" I shouted out my husband's instructions, partly to let the young man who had just witnessed my embarrassing moment know that it was my husband on the phone who had told me to do it, to ease my awkwardness, and partly to let him know my next instructions so my exhibitionist teasing game could continue. I secretly hoped to see him unable to resist ejaculating in his pants because of my teasing—it was so exciting!

"Hehe! ... Same as always! ... You figure it out yourself! I'm hanging up, call me back when you're done!" My husband's voice disappeared on the other end of the phone.

Actually, for a woman wearing a skirt, taking off underwear is much easier than taking off a bra through an outer garment; the key is simply whether or not she's willing to take it off.

I moved from the window seat to the side, closer to the aisle. The boy looked at me with surprise; he clearly didn't know what I was going to do. I smiled at him. By this time, I was much calmer. It was like playing various exhibitionist games; the boy already made me feel safe enough. Exposing myself a little more wouldn't be a big deal.

I raised my legs as before and placed them on the seat next to me, but this time on the inner window seat. I rested my left hand on the armrest of the seat near the aisle, turned my head to the window, and pretended to admire the night view. My buttocks were between the two chair backs. I placed my right hand on my hip, slid it down the gap between the two chairs, and stopped below my buttocks. Then, I gently pulled my skirt up little by little until the hem was almost at my lower back.

Because my upper body was leaning against the railing, blocking the view behind me, I thought the young man next to me couldn't possibly see that my buttocks were completely exposed. However, I also knew that because I was leaning against the railing, the left side of my collar was hanging down, and from his angle, one of my breasts would definitely be completely visible to him.

Although my breasts were clearly exposed to his eyes, I didn't care at all. On the contrary, I quite liked this state. Anyway, I pretended not to notice, and he already knew I had taken off my bra. Let him see my breasts to his heart's content! It's a pity I was too embarrassed to turn my head to see his expression and actions, otherwise it would have been even more stimulating.

I slowly pulled my legs back a little, lifted my body, and completely pulled down my panties, casually tossing them onto the chair. I didn't rush to get up. I finally found a suitable position. My right hand gently stroked my smooth skin, my hand sliding down my buttocks. My fingers lightly circled my anus, then moved from back to front to touch my vulva. My God! It was already so wet!

I knew the guy behind me was looking at my naked breasts from the side, but I kept my head looking out the window. I thought this way he could lewdly ogle my breasts, and he could also more brazenly rub his own penis while looking at my breasts. What a stimulating position!

I regretted not thinking of this position from the beginning of the day, allowing him to properly appreciate my beautiful body and letting me enjoy the pleasure of exposure. Otherwise, we might have already had several orgasms!

My middle finger slid between my wet labia, and as the stimulation deepened, my movements became increasingly exaggerated. I thought that from the boy's perspective, he could see my constantly twitching right shoulder, and he must be guessing my movements while playing with his own penis. Perhaps he had already ejaculated...?

I couldn't help but want to turn around and see what he looked like, but I didn't want to ruin my increasingly approaching orgasm. Just then, I suddenly discovered something unexpected and surprising.

I realized that in the car window in front of me, where the curtains weren't drawn, the silhouette of the boy behind me was clearly reflected. I could clearly see that he had already taken his penis out of his zipper and was stroking it. But what surprised me wasn't seeing the strange boy's penis, nor that he didn't seem to be staring at my breasts. What surprised me was that in the mirror-like window under the light, my naked genitals were clearly reflected, and my hand was sliding up and down between my legs. In the mirror, the boy was clearly watching this spectacular masturbation show.

Good heavens! How could I make such a mistake? Windows at night often create this illusion. When you consciously stare at the glass, the image inside is as clear as a mirror, but when you unconsciously look out, it's just a transparent pane of glass. I must have been so engrossed in my erotic frenzy that I completely forgot about the glass. But that boy was definitely trying to find out what I was doing there, so he probably already discovered the window's clever use. He probably even saw exactly how I took off my underwear.

Although I'm not exactly a prim and proper woman, this situation was just too embarrassing. I've never masturbated in front of any man before, except in front of my husband. What's wrong with me today? Am I having some kind of lucky streak, bringing me so much excitement and surprise?

The excitement was there, but the sudden shock also cooled me down abruptly; I couldn't continue! Besides, I didn't want my husband's phone ringing and startle me again, so I pulled my legs together, sat up straight, and turned my face.

This time, he was the one who was startled. The boy hadn't expected me to sit up so suddenly. His hand was still on his erect penis. When he saw me turn around, he almost panicked and tried to cover it with both hands, but that erect penis, which looked about sixteen or seventeen centimeters long, was far too large for him to cover with his hands. I never expected this shy little boy to have such a good physique!

In his panic, he hurriedly tried to shove his erect penis into his pants, but how could such a stiff thing be easily inserted into the opening normally only used for urination? ... Finally! He managed to hide it, but his pants were still bulging, and the zipper wouldn't go up. I boldly watched this embarrassing scene, feeling a strange sense of vengeful pleasure. I had wanted to say to him, "You're quite open-minded!" But even after mustering my courage, I didn't dare to say it.

Sure enough, before I could even call my husband, he called first.

"Hey! Why did it take you so long again? I've been waiting for ages..." "

Hehe! I'm 'playing' too! It's so much fun!" The boy's embarrassment had made me feel much better, and I felt like I had the upper hand, so I spoke more naturally.

"Haha! Tell me later how you're 'playing,' for now! Let's continue 'playing'!"

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Temptation of young boys on the bus (I play the seductive wife)

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