A trip with a young woman with a child

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

I live in the countryside. It takes more than four hours to get from my home to the county town by bus. There are three buses a day to the town—two in the morning and one in the afternoon—and two buses a day from the town to my town—one in the morning and one at noon. Every trip is incredibly crowded. The worst part is the hassle of traveling. I thought I could finally rest at home for a month, but then my company manager called and told me to report to the office. Being employed, I'm subject to regulations. After the call, I booked my train ticket that afternoon. I even specifically chose Friday, thinking there might be fewer people going to the county town. Damn it, someone like me who can't afford a car has to squeeze onto a bus again. But it's packed like sardines. The heartless bus drivers don't care about our lives; they just keep cramming people in. By the time I got on, the bus was already overflowing. I had no choice but to squeeze in again since I'd already bought the ticket and it was an afternoon bus. If it weren't for my family there, honestly, I wouldn't want to stay in this remote mountain village for the rest of my life… (I know the preceding is all nonsense, I'm sorry! ... I didn't want to! I didn't want to! I didn't want to! I didn't want to! I didn't want to! I didn't want to! I didn't want to! I didn't want to! The bus was crowded, the aisle was packed, and people were getting on and off all the way. I moved from the front door area to the middle. After about an hour, the two people next to me finally started to get off. They asked the driver where the bus was stopping. I blocked the people on my left, ready to grab their seats at any moment. On my right, a woman with a child was blocking the right side. She looked to be about thirty-two or thirty-three, and the child looked about four or five years old. Her appearance was average, neither pretty nor ugly. She was dressed neatly, and had a large chest, although I could tell through her sweater. Her hair was the kind of curly poodle-like hair that I hate the most. Of course, all of this happened later. I had only just noticed her; I was so focused on the seats I'd spotted that I didn't pay attention to her. Finally, the two people got off, and I managed to snag a window seat. The woman got one too, and she put her child on her lap. More people boarded, and the ticket seller kept yelling, "Squeeze in! Squeeze in!" It had only been a little easier after some people got off, and now it was packed again. There were so many people in the aisle that she probably moved closer to me to avoid hurting her child. Her left side and my right side were very close. Occasionally, the train jolted, and I could smell shampoo. Honestly, aside from her ample bosom, I didn't want to look at anything else. I kept my head up looking out the window. Every bump made the friction between us even more intense—my arm, her arm, my leg, her leg—just rubbing against each other. Ugh, the bumpy ride was one thing, but what really piqued my interest was that when the road leveled out, her calves moved, almost at the same frequency as her heartbeat. I'm a man, after all; stimulation triggers my hormones, especially after six months without any physical contact. Of course, I don't just eat any grass; I had to assess the value first. I stretched and quickly glanced at her, getting a clear look at her. Just like I mentioned before, curly hair, large breasts, average appearance. I hesitated, wondering if I should test her to see what she meant. Was she deliberately moving her calves? What was she trying to do? It turned out she really enjoyed the thrill of contact with a stranger. I can confirm she was, but I don't know about others. That's the purpose of this post:Are there others who have had similar experiences? Are all these women willing to do this? To further understand her purpose, I consciously moved my legs in response to her movements. She probably sensed it; her breathing slowed, and she closed her eyes, tilting her head towards the aisle. The micro-expression analysis in "Lie to Me" tells me that she avoids eye contact because she's afraid others will read what she's trying to hide—a typical physiological escape reaction. This reinforced my suspicion that she was doing it on purpose! Her breathing was rhythmic and long. Her son sat on her lap, letting her rock him. She moved her legs, and I responded; I moved mine, and she responded. She wanted to take things further, but her son's shouts interrupted her. The road was bumpy, and she was probably carsick. She loudly called for her father to get her a bag from the front. Her father was about two meters away. That's when I realized her husband was also on the bus, but because there were so many people standing between them, I dared not proceed with my exciting follow-up actions. Her son's antics had dampened my enthusiasm. She probably wasn't quite done either; the bumps emboldened her, and in that instant of the bus shaking... She rubbed her feet hard against my leg, then stopped when the car stabilized. I knew she was testing me, so I deliberately rubbed my feet against her leg rhythmically. She responded the second time, as if telling me she gave her permission. During this time, I didn't dare look at her, not even turn my head towards her. The rubbing became more and more intense, one after the other. I knew she was excited and could clearly feel it. Her head, which had been hesitant to turn towards me, now leaned towards me. I glanced back at her; she had her eyes closed, pretending to be sleepy from motion sickness. During a strong jolt of the car, her whole body tilted to the left. I understood her meaning: she wanted me to raise my arm. I pinned her arm down, and then deliberately made no movement. She rubbed her calves against me, as if urging me to hurry up. I gave the signal and sat up, letting my back detach from the backrest. She obligingly leaned to the left and closer to me. I leaned back a little, and then the exciting moment arrived. There was a soft, yielding mass under my right elbow. The feeling of pressing my elbow against her breast was completely different from supporting it with my hand. Experiencing that softness through her clothes, and doing something so intimate with a stranger, filled me with both fear and excitement. I was afraid someone would see this, but I was also afraid she was really asleep. My worries were unnecessary, because she wasn't asleep at all. Her breathing was rhythmic, and her calves kept rubbing against mine. The person next to her had their back to her, creating a very concealed environment for us. I didn't know if others saw it, and I couldn't care less. Her entire head was resting on my shoulder. I was really afraid her husband would turn around and look, but thankfully the person in the middle provided excellent cover. I looked straight ahead at her husband, thinking that if he looked this way, I would immediately warn her. My right elbow was on her left breast. Her breast was large and soft. I gently and slowly massaged it with my elbow, making circles, one circle after another. My breathing deepened, and I, like a coward, became excited. I could clearly feel the rise and fall of her belly and chest with each breath. I wondered if I should take things further. So, amidst hesitation and the friction, I continued. To be honest, I didn't know her limits at the time, so I could only test the waters. I thought if she showed the slightest sign of reluctance, I would stop immediately. My elbow kneaded her breasts, sometimes heavily, sometimes lightly. Her entire head was buried in my right shoulder, her hair cascading down. When my elbow pressed hard against her breasts, she exhaled; when I pressed lightly, she inhaled. The sensation of that resonance was indescribably stimulating. As I spoke, her breathing grew heavier. I didn't know if stimulating her breasts would bring her to orgasm, but I was terrified that she would end up like my ex-girlfriend, contracting her body and moaning uncontrollably as she approached climax, which would definitely alert those around us and cause a scene. I immediately stopped, cupping my arms around her and pressing my left hand under my right arm. I wanted to grasp her breasts. Call me lewd or shameless, that's what I was thinking at the time. I had to test her further. After a minute or two, I felt her breathing had stabilized slightly, so I tried again with my right elbow. During this time, she still leaned on my shoulder, like... I started by circling her breasts. Before I touched them, I glanced around. Luckily, everyone was tired after a long drive; even several people in the aisle had their heads down. I hugged myself tightly to extend my left arm further. I lightly tapped her breasts a few times with my left middle finger. I don't know if she was acquiescing to my further actions or urging me to hurry, but her legs twitched a few times, her twitching legs touching mine. Her legs hadn't moved before. I pressed down hard with four fingers, but this time she didn't react much. Her large breasts didn't harden much under my pressure, probably because of the bra. My middle and index fingers... She gently pinched it with her thumb and forefinger, her breathing becoming heavier with each pinch, but she never dared to extend her entire palm to hold it. My elbow couldn't cover my entire hand. She was probably completely aroused too. She picked up her son and had him sit on her right leg, facing slightly towards the aisle. My heart was pounding. She was deliberately creating that situation; the excitement I felt every time I thought about it made me want to shout. I deliberately raised my right arm to try and cover my hand, slowly pressing my entire palm onto the round, fleshy mound. Thinking about it now, I'm terrified. What if someone saw us and yelled at us? What would we do? What would I do? We were like a pair of piglets in heat, oblivious to everything else. I rubbed her vigorously. The feeling of kneading through her clothes was very different from direct contact. Direct contact felt good at first, but eventually it didn't feel much; she was just soft. I could hear her trembling breaths. I kept kneading her left breast, and for some reason, after a dozen or so strokes, her initially excited breathing gradually subsided. To this day, I still don't know why. Maybe she felt the stimulation was enough, and I couldn't give her anything stronger. Maybe she felt we were about to get off the bus. Less than a minute after calming down, she moved her arm. I wisely withdrew my hand, and she lifted her head from my shoulder, adjusting her hair. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that her head hadn't moved. From that moment on, I dared not look at her again. I stood with my legs tucked between my arms, staring out the window. Until we got off the bus, her husband was waiting for them at the door. I stood there with my bag, glancing at her every now and then. She happened to glance at me too, our eyes met, and then she immediately looked away. I walked out of the bus station with my bag...
And so came the four hours of excitement and joy.

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A trip with a young woman with a child

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