A wonderful experience on the bus

For several years, I've always adhered to the rule of not initiating or deliberately pressing against women on crowded buses. If there are empty seats, I try to maintain a normal distance and don't intentionally squeeze against their chests or buttocks.

Of course, in special circumstances, it depends on the woman's reaction. Sometimes, when it's truly unavoidable, I might take the opportunity to press closer.

But put yourself in her shoes, how many women would feel comfortable in that situation? Most would recoil if their private parts were touched.

If they can't avoid it, I believe most would feel disgust and fear. Some people suggest asking for her number to arrange a date; I can only say that's overthinking it. Don't imagine yourself as a handsome man.

Next, I'll share two more unusual experiences. Twice, I genuinely couldn't resist and made some advances, and the consequences were quite frightening. This is to warn everyone: never intentionally touch women; you never know what kind of person you might be messing with.

Let me start with the first time. It was after my late shift, and the bus was packed. I squeezed into the front middle section. Those familiar with buses know there's a vertical handrail in this spot, which I could hold onto without having to reach for the overhead railing.

At the next stop, a group of people got on. I didn't notice at first, but after a while, as people pushed their way in, I saw a very voluptuous woman next to me.

This woman had long, wavy hair and wore a tight-fitting dress, the kind that's extremely form-fitting. How form-fitting? Well, if I looked down, I could clearly see the outline of her underwear. As

soon as she got on, the men around her who could see her stared at her a few times. I'm sure she was used to that.

When the bus started moving, it swayed quite a bit. I saw her trying to reach the handrail hanging down from the ceiling, but with so many people and her short stature, she could only hook it with two knuckles, which looked very difficult.

She hadn't been hooking it for more than two minutes, probably because she was struggling too much. Suddenly, she pushed forward, squeezing next to the pole I was holding, and grabbed it too.

Now, half of her body was blocking me from the pole, and my hand was hanging naturally, right next to her buttocks.

With each stop and start of the bus, my hand would occasionally bump against her buttocks; they were undeniably fleshy, and her tight skirt was probably made of modal. The back of my hand felt soft, supple, and slightly slippery. I

was young and impulsive at the time, a little carried away. Normally, walking like this wouldn't have caused any problems, but I wasn't satisfied with just the feeling on the back of my hand. I wanted to turn my hand over and touch it directly with my palm. The feeling on

the back of my hand was completely different from the feeling on my palm; the tactile sensation was on a whole new level.

So, taking advantage of a sway, I flipped my wrist. Actually, I underestimated a woman's sense of touch. I flipped my hand over, and as I swung it, her buttocks bumped against my hand a few times. I hadn't actively touched or pinched her yet.

Suddenly, the woman turned her head and glared at me, which startled me. My mind went blank for a moment because I was afraid she would yell "pervert!" In

that instant, I don't know why, I glanced behind her and saw an old man who looked a bit sleazy.

While she was glaring at me, I took out my phone with one hand—back then, it was the kind with a full keyboard. I opened the text message editing page, typed a few words with one hand: "Someone just touched your bag," and held it in front of her, gesturing for her to look at my phone. After she glanced at it, her gaze towards me was clearly no longer the fierce glare; she looked at me with a hint of confusion and fear. I pursed my lips and gestured for her to look behind me.

She turned around and saw the old man. It was funny, really; he looked a bit sleazy, with one eye slightly crossed. Most people on the train close their eyes or look out the window, but he was looking left and right, making him look like a thief at first glance.

When the woman saw him, she immediately tucked her bag into front of her chest and checked the zipper—of course, it wasn't open. But she avoided the old man, instead pressing herself even closer to me; for the next few stops, her buttocks were practically touching my thigh.

Of course, I didn't dare put my hand on her buttocks anymore; with her buttocks against my thigh, I tried my best to avoid spraying my penis onto her buttocks.

After several stops, and after many people got off at major stations, we both reached a more spacious area at the back of the carriage.

She whispered to me, "That old man scared me to death."

I chuckled inwardly, but said to her seriously, "I gently touched you a few times to warn you, but when you didn't react, I used a little more force. But that old man probably didn't succeed; even if we caught him on the spot, we wouldn't have any evidence." She nodded vigorously, both earnest and frightened. We didn't say anything more after that, and went home at our respective stops.

Later, I ran into her many times on the bus. She must frequently travel this route, but there was no deliberate contact; we always kept a distance.

She still often dressed very form-fittingly and sexily. I've observed her a few times; her clothing is particularly attractive to men. I often see men pressing against her from behind, touching her with their hands or other parts of their bodies.

This woman is quite sensitive—not sexually, of course, but she'll actively move away if she feels her buttocks being touched.

Sometimes, if she can't move away and the touching gets too intense, she uses the same tactic: turning around and glaring at the man. Usually, the man is scared by the glare, and I've never seen her yell "pervert!" or cause a scene.

Another incident involving my initiative is a bit funny, and I'll keep it short.

It was during rush hour, and I was standing near the back door of the train carriage. A few female students, all in school uniforms, were standing next to me.

One of them, I don't know if she was a delinquent or what, wasn't particularly pretty, but her school uniform zipper was open, revealing a low-cut, crop top underneath—very indecent.

They chattered incessantly on the train, talking about childish fantasies about society, which I found somewhat annoying.

When we were almost at our stop, instead of moving to the back, they rushed towards the door to get off.

It was quite crowded, and I was carrying a briefcase. This delinquent girl, in her haste, pushed my hand and the briefcase towards the door, my hand landing squarely on her buttocks—a soft, fleshy mass.

I was a little annoyed, and in the split second before her hand was separated from mine, I freed two fingers and pinched her buttocks hard.

After pinching her butt, she rushed off the bus. What's even funnier is that she immediately started cursing under the bus. I guess she didn't know who pinched her butt.

It wasn't directed at me; she was just cursing, saying things like, "If you want to touch a woman's butt, go home and touch your own mother." Anyway, the cursing was incredibly vulgar. A few elderly people in the back of the bus were laughing at her. The atmosphere immediately eased, and the matter was over.

Anyway, I want to say that what I've described is my personal experience. Whether

you take it as fact or just a short essay for a laugh, please try to avoid doing these things on the bus, especially when it's not crowded. With smartphones these days, you don't know if someone is filming you. Back

then, with those phones, even a slightly darker light wouldn't be clear.

I still admire those who do this on buses; their audacity goes beyond mere lust.

[The End]

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A wonderful experience on the bus

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