Mr. Crazy on the Bus

"Stop clamping around me so tightly. Just let me in…"

Inside the bus, the man behind me flips my short skirt upward before thrusting heavily into me.

When I turn around to look at him, I realize that it's Michael Wallace, an older man I've known for a long time.

He has yet to realize that I'm his target at the moment.

Just as I'm about to reveal my identity to Michael, I see him staring at my face unblinkingly. At the same time, his thrusts become heavier and more forceful.

My name was Chloe Xavier. I had just graduated and was on my way to Merrihaven to seek out a family friend I'd always known as Uncle Mike.

I had been an early bloomer. Back in middle school, I used to wrap bandages around my chest just to avoid drawing unwanted attention.

It wasn't until college that I realized my body was actually an asset to be proud of.

I ditched bras altogether, shamelessly flaunting my curves.

With a full chest that swayed with every step, paired with long legs and a pert backside, it felt like every ounce of weight had settled exactly where it belonged. There wasn't a single bit of flab on me.

Every man who passed me ended up with a noticeable bulge in his pants.

Seeing the thirsty looks in their eyes only stoked my own insatiable cravings.

For the longest time, no man had the guts to actually pursue me. It left my desire growing more intense by the day, almost like an addiction, leaving me restless and on edge.

After graduation, I decided to head to Merrihaven to find Uncle Mike. He was a neighbor from back home who ran several upscale clubs in the city.

Word was his business was booming, and the top employees there made tens of thousands of dollars a month.

With a body like mine, I figured I could easily pull in six figures.

Mom helped me get in touch with him, and he told me to head straight to his place.

It had been five years since I'd last seen him, so I wanted to make sure I left a lasting first impression.

I chose to wear a miniskirt with sheer black stockings clinging to my legs, paired with a plunging V-neck shirt that put my snowy-white cleavage on full display.

The outfit hugged my figure in an extremely sultry way. I knew Uncle Mike would be impressed enough to set me up with the best role at his club.

…

I hopped on the high-speed rail and headed for Merrihaven. Once I arrived, I decided to take the bus to save on cab fare.

The bus was crammed with middle-aged men whose eyes lit up the moment I boarded. The blatant lust in their stares actually got me excited.

The bus was so packed that some men took advantage of the crowd to grope me—some even sneaked a squeeze of my backside.

Honestly? Being touched by a man actually felt pretty good.

I didn't bother to stop them. Giving these men a little thrill wasn't going to cost me anything.

But then, one of them suddenly pressed his full weight against me from behind. I could clearly feel something hard trying to wedge its way between my thighs.

This wasn't just a little groping anymore. This was outright molestation!

I was too scared to make a sound, so I just tensed up, clenching my muscles to stop him from pushing deeper.

Instead of backing off, he gripped my slender waist with both hands and forced my entire body back against him.

That thing of his kept pushing insistently like an eel.

I couldn't take it anymore. I might be open-minded, but I wasn't about to let him be this blatant. I spun around, ready to tear into him, only to freeze in shock.

The man was actually Uncle Mike!

He still had no idea it was me. I stood there, heart racing, wondering if I should confront him. If I called him out, it would be unbearably awkward.

Worse, if Uncle Mike got pissed, he might pull the job offer. Mom would kill me if I went home empty-handed.

But if I didn't speak up, what Uncle Mike was doing was way too much. He'd have his way with me right here. With so many people on the bus, the fallout would be a nightmare if things escalated.

While I hesitated, Uncle Mike took it up a notch. His hand actually slipped up under my miniskirt.

The worst part was that I wasn't wearing any safety shorts—just a thin little thong.

His hand was large and rough, and his touch sent a searing heat through my whole body. My insides felt like they were catching fire.

I had to give it to Uncle Mike. He really lived up to his reputation as a man of experience. He knew exactly what he was doing, pinpointing my sensitive spots with precision.

He curled his middle finger and slid it slowly along my seam. Instantly, every cell in my body felt like it was about to explode. I couldn't stop the trembling, and a moan started clawing its way up my throat.

I strained every nerve and swallowed hard, desperately trying to keep myself quiet. If I let out even a whimper on this crowded bus, the shame would be unbearable.

When Uncle Mike saw how strong my reaction was, he pressed harder, following the seam, finding my core, and working his fingers in a frantic rhythm.

I couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

It felt too good. The desire inside me was spiraling out of control.

I could hardly hold it in. My bones felt like they were melting, and my legs had lost all their strength.

My whole weight ended up pressing down onto his finger. The sensation grew even more intense, the unbearable itch inside me almost reaching its peak.

I could even feel a warm current flowing from me. It was absolutely mortifying.

My heart was pounding with equal parts terror and thrill.