My Sexual History, Part 7: Romantic Encounters While Riding a Bus (2)

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In the 1990s, traveling wasn't nearly as convenient as it is now. Often, you'd get on a train only to find there were no seats and you'd have to stand. Sometimes, there were so many people standing that you could only cling to those with seats, desperately holding onto the handrails. Once the train started moving, with the swaying of the carriage, everyone would gradually settle down, and you'd realize your body was pressed tightly against the arm of the seated person. In the summer, you could even feel the heat radiating from their arm.
That was how it happened once. First, you squeezed onto the train, but there were no seats left, so you had to stand in the aisle. More people kept getting on, and there was no way to escape; you could only try to squeeze into the tiny space between those with seats and the seats in front of you, just enough to catch your breath. You only breathed a sigh of relief when the doors slammed shut. Not long after the train started moving, I realized there was a problem. Because the space was so small, I was practically standing right next to her. Imagine, I was standing, she was sitting, and her face was almost touching my crotch.
When I realized this, almost instinctively, I glanced at her. She was a woman from the countryside, around twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old, but quite beautiful—the kind of beauty that was both delicate and alluring.
Once the bus started moving, everyone found their seats, and it wasn't so crowded anymore. As for me, my thoughts started to wander. I began to secretly look down at her. She was wearing an ordinary floral shirt, her breasts were full and round, and her arms were exposed, white and firm. She was squinting, as if she were dozing. Suddenly, the bus braked sharply, and her head jerked forward, her entire face pressed against my crotch. It was summer, and she was only wearing thin trousers; the impact really hurt. Of course, it was a painful yet pleasurable sensation, instantly awakening my lust. My penis, uncooperatively, became hard, and I could see it slowly bulging. Back then, tight trousers were popular, and with my penis hard, the crotch tightened even more, making the shape of my penis completely exposed. I secretly glanced at it; my penis was angled to the right, the glans particularly prominent.
After she bumped into me, she was probably really awake, and she clearly knew where her face had hit. She tossed her hair, not looking at me. But she didn't continue pretending to sleep; instead, she stretched out her right hand and braced herself against the back of the seat in front of her. This action was natural, perfectly reasonable in that situation. But it gave me an excellent opportunity. Because this way, her arm and right shoulder were pressed right against my penis. At first, as the car swayed, I intentionally rubbed against her arm and shoulder, and later I simply pressed myself against it without moving. Then I subtly exerted force, making my penis throb. She was wearing a sleeveless shirt, only two layers of fabric in between, so she must have felt the subtle throbbing.
For almost two hours, her right arm remained on the seat. When we arrived at our destination and everyone got off, she finally glanced at me. I still remember that glance; it had that "I've given you such a great deal, remember it!" feel to it. The
story above is about me pressing against someone else; the story below is about someone pressing against me. Ah, recounting these stories makes me nostalgic for the atmosphere of the 1990s.
It was all because of the crowds. But this time I had a seat, so I leisurely watched those without seats being jostled and pushed around. The train started moving, and things gradually loosened up. But I felt something soft constantly pressed against my right shoulder. At first, it was fleeting, touching and then moving away, then touching and moving away again, then it basically stayed pressed against me, getting tighter and tighter, until finally it felt like it was gently rubbing. I never imagined that making love with someone's shoulder could be so pleasurable. It was early spring, and I was wearing a jacket when I left home. After getting on the train, I felt a bit hot and took it off. It was now draped over my right hand. I quietly hid my left hand under my right arm and gently pressed my fingers against her vulva. She didn't flinch at all; instead, she pressed even closer. I felt around with my fingers and discovered she was wearing men's pants with buttons in the front. I slipped a finger between the two buttons, pulled back the waistband of the shorts, and directly touched her labia. A moment later, I had my finger inside, and I found her clitoris. I don't remember how long the car drove, but the road conditions were bad, and it was swaying and bumping the whole way. I pretended to be asleep, half-asleep, and leisurely played with her vulva—it was so pleasant. At some point, I noticed her legs were tightly hooked around mine under the seat, and for a moment I clearly felt her entire abdomen pressed against mine. I climaxed.
She got off the car before me, and when she did, I only saw her back. To be honest, it was very ordinary. Nothing alluring. But strangely, that made it even more exciting. So, in matters of sex, appearances can be deceiving. Even today, when choosing a partner to have sex with, I don't care about looks; I only care about body shape. And most importantly, I care about how sexy she is.
Finally, let me mention something special. In the waiting room, I noticed her because she was wearing lipstick. That was in the mid-1990s, and not many people wore lipstick in general. So I glanced at her a few more times. She knew I was looking at her, but didn't seem to care much.
The announcement came several times that the train was about to board, so people immediately lined up. I happened to be right behind her in line. At that time, queuing was incredibly crowded; the queue was small, and it prevented others from cutting in line. It was summer, and being so close was arousing. I pressed my penis against her, secretly working hard. Her reaction was direct: she turned her hand around and squeezed my penis. Wow, this was the first time I'd ever reacted like that.
On the train, it was still packed. We were squeezed into the aisle. We both stood against the aisle wall, and I reached behind her and squeezed her buttocks. After a while, I took advantage of the crowd to turn around and face the wall. That's when I understood, and I secretly used my right hand to play with my penis. The train journey wasn't tiring at all.
When we arrived at the station, we both got off. I asked her where she was going, and she said she had to transfer. I bought her a ticket for the next train; there were still four or five hours before departure. I said, "Let's go to the park." She said okay. I know this city very well. I took her to a place with mountains. This place had some secluded spots. I had been there before. When we got there, I tried to take off her pants, but she refused. I said I felt uncomfortable, and asked her to help. She said she would help me. She washed the head of my penis with water from a mineral water bottle, squatted down, and licked it, enjoying it. Unfortunately, a moment later, I heard someone walking towards us. I told her to hurry up and suck, and her head quickly rose. At the last moment, I ejaculated, into her mouth. But I hadn't completely finished. The voices outside were already approaching; they would see us around the corner. I had no choice but to pull my penis out of her mouth. I went outside without even zipping up my jacket, and bumped into a middle-aged couple. After a few steps, I felt completely drained and sat down. A little while later, she came out and sat down too. The couple inside were completely silent. I wondered what they were doing.

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My Sexual History, Part 7: Romantic Encounters While Riding a Bus (2)

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