Goth at the bus stop
Based on a friend's fantasy
Sarah leaned against the cold metal of the bus stop, her breath misting the air with each exasperated sigh. The neon lights flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows across her pale, gothic makeup. Her jet-black hair was a stark contrast to her alabaster skin, and her dark, piercing eyes scanned the empty street with impatience. She had been waiting for the number 23 for what felt like an eternity, the frigid wind cutting through her torn fishnet stockings and short black skirt. The chilly evening had been warmed by the heat of her girlfriend's apartment, but now the cold seeped into her bones, a stark reminder of the long walk home that lay ahead if the bus didn't arrive soon.
A rustle of paper drew her attention to an elderly man sitting on the bench opposite her, a newspaper spread out over his knees. He was in his 80s, with a face that looked like it had been chiseled by time and weathered by a thousand storms. His eyes twinkled with a mischief that didn't quite match the stoic expression etched into his wrinkled features. He looked up from his newspaper, his gaze lingering on the young woman for a moment before returning to the headlines.
"Looks like it's going to be a long wait," he murmured, his voice gravelly from a lifetime of cigarettes.
Sarah rolled her eyes, not in the mood for small talk. "Tell me something I don't know," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
The old man chuckled, folding his paper with a practiced ease. "Ah, youth," he said, his eyes sparkling. "Always in such a hurry to get nowhere."
Sarah's phone buzzed in her pocket, the screen lighting up with a message from her girlfriend, Luna. 'Miss you already, babe. Wish you didn't have to leave. xoxo' A smile played on her lips as she remembered their passionate kisses from earlier that evening. Their lips had danced together for hours, exploring each other's mouths with an insatiable hunger. Luna's tongue had teased her clit through the fabric of her drenched panties, but they hadn't gone further than that. Sarah's body still hummed with unsated desire, her pussy wet and begging for more.
The old man cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to the present. "You know, I used to date a girl like you," he began, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Back when I had the energy to stay out all night."
Sarah raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued despite herself. "A goth?" she asked, trying to keep the skepticism out of her tone.
"No, no," he chuckled. "A lesbian. Just like you."
Sarah felt a blush creep up her neck. "How could you tell?" she asked, her voice a mix of defensiveness and challenge.
He shrugged, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's all in the way you carry yourself, love. The confidence, the way you look at people... I've seen it before."
Sarah felt a strange thrill at his words. It wasn't often she encountered someone who could see right through her, and she found herself leaning in slightly, despite the chill. "How long ago was that?" she asked, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.
The man took a deep drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brilliantly in the darkness. "Oh, it's been a while," he said, his voice a gravelly whisper. "Back when the world was a different place. But I never forgot the taste of a woman. It's something special."
The conversation took a sudden, unexpected turn. "How long have you been a lesbian?" he inquired, his gaze intense.
Sarah fidgeted with the studs on her leather jacket. "Since high school," she admitted.
"And how much experience have you had with... a man?"
Her cheeks grew hotter. "None," she replied, her voice barely audible. "I've never been with one."
The old man's expression grew thoughtful. "Never been penetrated by more than a finger, huh?"
Sarah's eyes widened. "How did you know?"
He just grinned, showing a set of crooked, tobacco-stained teeth. "Experience, love. And I've got plenty of it."
Sarah felt a peculiar sensation as he leaned closer, his eyes seemingly piercing through the layers of clothing that separated them. The air grew thick with tension, and she couldn't help but notice the faint smell of whiskey on his breath. The man took a deep sniff, and his expression changed from one of curiosity to something more predatory.
"I can smell it on you," he murmured, his voice low and gruff. "Your cunt's wet, isn't it?"
Sarah's face flushed, her eyes darting around the deserted street. She had never been so embarrassed in her life. "What the fuck?" she hissed, stepping back.
The old man leaned back on the bench, his eyes never leaving her. "Don't be shy," he said, his grin widening. "It's the scent of a woman who's been well-pleasured. Or maybe one who's just eager for more?"
The wind picked up, sending a shiver down Sarah's spine. She could feel her pussy throb in response to his crude words. It was as if he had some kind of power over her, making her body react in ways she couldn't control. The silence between them stretched out, taut like a wire about to snap.
"How about it?" he continued, his voice a seductive purr. "You've never sucked a cock before, have you?"
Sarah's mouth fell open in shock. "What?"
"Just a thought," he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "A little experiment, if you will. You're curious, I can tell."
Sarah's mind raced. Part of her wanted to slap him, to tell him to fuck off and leave her alone. But another part of her, the part that had never felt the touch of a man, the part that was still buzzing with unfulfilled desire, found the idea intriguing. It was something she had never considered, something she had never allowed herself to want.
"Why would I do that?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
The old man leaned in closer, his breath hot against her cheek. "Because, my dear, how can you truly know what you like if you haven't tried everything?" His words were like a siren's call, tempting her with the forbidden fruit of experience.
Sarah felt a strange mix of anger and excitement. How could he be so blatant, so crude? And yet, she found herself contemplating his offer. She had always been so sure of her sexuality, so proudly lesbian. But what if there was something she was missing out on? Something that could change everything she thought she knew about herself?
"You're just trying to get in my pants," she accused, her voice laced with both disgust and a strange curiosity.
"Maybe I am," he admitted, his tone unapologetic. "But isn't that what we all want, in the end? To know what's out there, to experience life in all its forms?" He reached out, his gnarled hand brushing against her thigh. "Just one taste, love. That's all I'm asking."
Her mind swirled with the possibilities. She had always been so certain of herself, so confident in her identity. But what if there was a part of her that craved the unknown? A part of her that wanted to explore the darkest, most hidden desires?
The bus stop remained empty, the yellow lights flickering above them like a silent witness to their clandestine conversation. Sarah looked down at the man's hand, so out of place against her young, firm flesh. Her heart raced in her chest, and she felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine.
"What if I do?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "What if I decide to... try?"
The old man's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with victory. "Then I'll show you a world you never knew existed," he promised, his hand inching closer to her wet, throbbing pussy.
Sarah took a deep breath, her mind racing. Was she really about to do this? With a man old enough to be her grandfather? But the desire was there, raw and undeniable, urging her to take a risk, to push her boundaries.
With a suddenness that made her gasp, the old man stood up, his movements surprisingly nimble for his age. He unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock, which stood erect despite the cold. It was long and veiny, a stark contrast to the youthful, unblemished skin of his forearm. Sarah couldn't help but stare, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and fascination.
He took a step closer, his cock bobbing slightly with each step. She could see the excitement in his eyes, the anticipation of corrupting this young lesbian with the taste of a man's lust. He stopped in front of her, the tip of his penis almost touching her chin. "Go on," he urged, his voice a gruff whisper. "Take it in your mouth."
Her hand trembled as she reached out, her fingertips grazing the velvety skin of his erection. It was warm and firm, and she could feel the pulse of his blood beneath her touch. She hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and leaned down, her heart hammering in her chest. Her lips parted, and she took the head of his cock into her mouth, the salty taste of his precum hitting her tongue.
The old man groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. "That's it, love," he murmured, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck, guiding her movements. "Take it all in."
Sarah felt a strange sense of power as she sucked him deeper, her teeth grazing the ridge of his cock as she took in more of his length. Her own pussy grew wetter with each stroke, her curiosity piqued by the sensation of having a man inside her mouth. The warmth and the hardness were foreign, yet somehow thrilling. She bobbed her head.
The old man's grip tightened, his hips began to rock back and forth as he pushed himself deeper into her mouth. She felt his cock hit the back of her throat, and she gagged slightly, her eyes watering. But she didn't pull away. Instead, she took it as a challenge, her tongue swirling around the unfamiliar shape, exploring every inch of him.
As she continued to suck, she could feel his excitement growing, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. His hand on the back of her neck grew more insistent, pushing her to take more, to give him what he wanted. And for reasons she couldn't fully understand, she found herself eager to please him, eager to feel his release.
The tension in the air grew thicker, the only sounds the old man's labored breathing and the soft, wet noises of her mouth on his cock. He leaned heavily on her, his eyes locked onto hers as she worked him over, the power dynamic shifting with every stroke. His grip on her neck tightened, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw as he began to murmur filthy words of praise. "That's a good girl," he rasped, "so eager, so hungry for cock."
Sarah felt a surge of something she couldn't quite identify. It was a mix of anger and arousal, a burning need to prove herself to this man who saw her as a mere object of his desire. She took him deeper, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder, her tongue dancing around the swollen head of his dick. He groaned, his hips jerking in response, and she reveled in the power she had over him.
"Suck it, you little slut," he hissed, his voice strained with lust. "Take it all, like the greedy little dyke you are."
Sarah's eyes watered, not from the discomfort but from the raw, primal pleasure of it all. She had never been talked to this way before, had never been called such vile names. And yet, with each slur, she felt her resolve to continue waver. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to push him away and run, but her body had other ideas. It was as if she had unlocked a part of herself she had never known existed, a part that craved this kind of degradation, this kind of control.
The old man's hips began to move faster, his strokes more erratic as he approached climax. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice a harsh whisper. "You like being used, you dirty little whore."
The words hit her like a slap, stinging her pride but only serving to fuel her need. She moaned around his cock, her own desire spiraling out of control. She had never felt so alive, so alive with the kind of darkness she had always kept locked away. His cock swelled in her mouth, and she could feel his orgasm approaching, the throb of his pulse against her tongue.
And then it happened. He erupted, spurts of hot cum filling her mouth. She choked, trying to swallow it all, the salty taste coating her throat. She pulled back, gasping for air, her eyes watering.
The old man's chuckles grew louder as he watched her, his cock still spurting cum. It painted her gothic makeup in a grotesque new pattern, a stark white contrast against the black. "Looks like you enjoyed that," he said, his voice a low, amused rumble.
Sarah stared up at him, a mix of shock, disgust, and something else... something she didn't dare admit to herself. She reached up with trembling fingers, wiping the sticky mess from her mouth and chin.
"Swallow it, love," he instructed, his voice still a purr. "It's all part of the experience."
With a grimace, she did as he said, the salty fluid sliding down her throat. It was a strange victory, a claim she never thought she would concede to a man. But there was no denying the thrill that coursed through her, the sense of the forbidden she had just indulged in.
The old man tucked himself back into his trousers, his smile never fading. "Well, that was quite the appetizer," he said, patting her cheek with a hand that smelled faintly of tobacco and sex. "But I'm sure you're eager to get home to your girlfriend."
Sarah nodded, still trying to process the events of the last few minutes. She felt dirty and used, yet also strangely alive, as if she had just crossed some kind of line. The old man leaned down, his breath hot against her ear.
"Remember, love," he whispered, "you know where to find me if you ever want to explore more."
Sarah nodded mutely, her eyes never leaving his. The hand on her thigh grew bolder, his fingers tracing the line of her stockings, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the cold metal beneath her. She felt a shiver run through her, and it wasn't from the cold. The old man's touch was firm, yet gentle, a contradiction that had her stomach fluttering. She should have felt repulsed, but instead, she felt... alive.
His hand continued to move upward, inch by agonizing inch, until it reached the hem of her skirt. He paused for a moment, as if asking for permission, then slid his hand beneath the fabric, his rough palm brushing against the bare skin of her upper thigh. She gasped, her body responding instinctively to his touch.
The warmth of his hand was like a brand, searing through the layers of her clothing and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her pussy clenched, and she could feel the wetness seep through her panties. The old man's smile grew wider, his eyes never leaving hers as he caressed her, his thumb coming dangerously close to her swollen clit.
Sarah's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She had never felt like this before, never wanted a man's touch so badly. It was as if the act of sucking his cock had unlocked something primal within her, something that craved more. She should have been disgusted, should have pushed him away, but she found herself leaning into his touch, her body betraying her every instinct.
The old man's hand reached the top of her thigh, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her panties. She could feel the heat of his palm, the calloused skin sending waves of sensation through her. Her breath hitched, her eyes closing involuntarily as he began to rub her clit in slow, deliberate circles.
Her knees grew weak, and she leaned against the bus stop for support, her head falling back with a soft moan. She could feel her orgasm building, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter. The old man's other hand came up to cup her breast, his thumb flicking at her hardened nipple through the fabric of her bra.
The world around them faded away, the deserted street and flickering lights nothing more than a backdrop to their depraved encounter. Sarah's hands found his shoulders, gripping them tightly as she ground her hips against his hand. She was so close, so close to coming apart in his arms.
But just as she was about to climax, the sound of an approaching engine split the silence, the headlights of a bus cutting through the darkness. The old man's hand stilled, his smile fading as reality crashed back into the moment. He stepped back, zipping up his trousers as the bus pulled up to the stop with a hiss of brakes.
Sarah straightened her clothes, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. She couldn't believe what she had just done, what she had almost allowed to happen. But as she boarded the bus, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had just taken a step down a path she might not be able to come back from.
Sarah leaned against the cold metal of the bus stop, her breath misting the air with each exasperated sigh. The neon lights flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows across her pale, gothic makeup. Her jet-black hair was a stark contrast to her alabaster skin, and her dark, piercing eyes scanned the empty street with impatience. She had been waiting for the number 23 for what felt like an eternity, the frigid wind cutting through her torn fishnet stockings and short black skirt. The chilly evening had been warmed by the heat of her girlfriend's apartment, but now the cold seeped into her bones, a stark reminder of the long walk home that lay ahead if the bus didn't arrive soon.
A rustle of paper drew her attention to an elderly man sitting on the bench opposite her, a newspaper spread out over his knees. He was in his 80s, with a face that looked like it had been chiseled by time and weathered by a thousand storms. His eyes twinkled with a mischief that didn't quite match the stoic expression etched into his wrinkled features. He looked up from his newspaper, his gaze lingering on the young woman for a moment before returning to the headlines.
"Looks like it's going to be a long wait," he murmured, his voice gravelly from a lifetime of cigarettes.
Sarah rolled her eyes, not in the mood for small talk. "Tell me something I don't know," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
The old man chuckled, folding his paper with a practiced ease. "Ah, youth," he said, his eyes sparkling. "Always in such a hurry to get nowhere."
Sarah's phone buzzed in her pocket, the screen lighting up with a message from her girlfriend, Luna. 'Miss you already, babe. Wish you didn't have to leave. xoxo' A smile played on her lips as she remembered their passionate kisses from earlier that evening. Their lips had danced together for hours, exploring each other's mouths with an insatiable hunger. Luna's tongue had teased her clit through the fabric of her drenched panties, but they hadn't gone further than that. Sarah's body still hummed with unsated desire, her pussy wet and begging for more.
The old man cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to the present. "You know, I used to date a girl like you," he began, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Back when I had the energy to stay out all night."
Sarah raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued despite herself. "A goth?" she asked, trying to keep the skepticism out of her tone.
"No, no," he chuckled. "A lesbian. Just like you."
Sarah felt a blush creep up her neck. "How could you tell?" she asked, her voice a mix of defensiveness and challenge.
He shrugged, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's all in the way you carry yourself, love. The confidence, the way you look at people... I've seen it before."
Sarah felt a strange thrill at his words. It wasn't often she encountered someone who could see right through her, and she found herself leaning in slightly, despite the chill. "How long ago was that?" she asked, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.
The man took a deep drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brilliantly in the darkness. "Oh, it's been a while," he said, his voice a gravelly whisper. "Back when the world was a different place. But I never forgot the taste of a woman. It's something special."
The conversation took a sudden, unexpected turn. "How long have you been a lesbian?" he inquired, his gaze intense.
Sarah fidgeted with the studs on her leather jacket. "Since high school," she admitted.
"And how much experience have you had with... a man?"
Her cheeks grew hotter. "None," she replied, her voice barely audible. "I've never been with one."
The old man's expression grew thoughtful. "Never been penetrated by more than a finger, huh?"
Sarah's eyes widened. "How did you know?"
He just grinned, showing a set of crooked, tobacco-stained teeth. "Experience, love. And I've got plenty of it."
Sarah felt a peculiar sensation as he leaned closer, his eyes seemingly piercing through the layers of clothing that separated them. The air grew thick with tension, and she couldn't help but notice the faint smell of whiskey on his breath. The man took a deep sniff, and his expression changed from one of curiosity to something more predatory.
"I can smell it on you," he murmured, his voice low and gruff. "Your cunt's wet, isn't it?"
Sarah's face flushed, her eyes darting around the deserted street. She had never been so embarrassed in her life. "What the fuck?" she hissed, stepping back.
The old man leaned back on the bench, his eyes never leaving her. "Don't be shy," he said, his grin widening. "It's the scent of a woman who's been well-pleasured. Or maybe one who's just eager for more?"
The wind picked up, sending a shiver down Sarah's spine. She could feel her pussy throb in response to his crude words. It was as if he had some kind of power over her, making her body react in ways she couldn't control. The silence between them stretched out, taut like a wire about to snap.
"How about it?" he continued, his voice a seductive purr. "You've never sucked a cock before, have you?"
Sarah's mouth fell open in shock. "What?"
"Just a thought," he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "A little experiment, if you will. You're curious, I can tell."
Sarah's mind raced. Part of her wanted to slap him, to tell him to fuck off and leave her alone. But another part of her, the part that had never felt the touch of a man, the part that was still buzzing with unfulfilled desire, found the idea intriguing. It was something she had never considered, something she had never allowed herself to want.
"Why would I do that?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
The old man leaned in closer, his breath hot against her cheek. "Because, my dear, how can you truly know what you like if you haven't tried everything?" His words were like a siren's call, tempting her with the forbidden fruit of experience.
Sarah felt a strange mix of anger and excitement. How could he be so blatant, so crude? And yet, she found herself contemplating his offer. She had always been so sure of her sexuality, so proudly lesbian. But what if there was something she was missing out on? Something that could change everything she thought she knew about herself?
"You're just trying to get in my pants," she accused, her voice laced with both disgust and a strange curiosity.
"Maybe I am," he admitted, his tone unapologetic. "But isn't that what we all want, in the end? To know what's out there, to experience life in all its forms?" He reached out, his gnarled hand brushing against her thigh. "Just one taste, love. That's all I'm asking."
Her mind swirled with the possibilities. She had always been so certain of herself, so confident in her identity. But what if there was a part of her that craved the unknown? A part of her that wanted to explore the darkest, most hidden desires?
The bus stop remained empty, the yellow lights flickering above them like a silent witness to their clandestine conversation. Sarah looked down at the man's hand, so out of place against her young, firm flesh. Her heart raced in her chest, and she felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine.
"What if I do?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "What if I decide to... try?"
The old man's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with victory. "Then I'll show you a world you never knew existed," he promised, his hand inching closer to her wet, throbbing pussy.
Sarah took a deep breath, her mind racing. Was she really about to do this? With a man old enough to be her grandfather? But the desire was there, raw and undeniable, urging her to take a risk, to push her boundaries.
With a suddenness that made her gasp, the old man stood up, his movements surprisingly nimble for his age. He unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock, which stood erect despite the cold. It was long and veiny, a stark contrast to the youthful, unblemished skin of his forearm. Sarah couldn't help but stare, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and fascination.
He took a step closer, his cock bobbing slightly with each step. She could see the excitement in his eyes, the anticipation of corrupting this young lesbian with the taste of a man's lust. He stopped in front of her, the tip of his penis almost touching her chin. "Go on," he urged, his voice a gruff whisper. "Take it in your mouth."
Her hand trembled as she reached out, her fingertips grazing the velvety skin of his erection. It was warm and firm, and she could feel the pulse of his blood beneath her touch. She hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and leaned down, her heart hammering in her chest. Her lips parted, and she took the head of his cock into her mouth, the salty taste of his precum hitting her tongue.
The old man groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. "That's it, love," he murmured, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck, guiding her movements. "Take it all in."
Sarah felt a strange sense of power as she sucked him deeper, her teeth grazing the ridge of his cock as she took in more of his length. Her own pussy grew wetter with each stroke, her curiosity piqued by the sensation of having a man inside her mouth. The warmth and the hardness were foreign, yet somehow thrilling. She bobbed her head.
The old man's grip tightened, his hips began to rock back and forth as he pushed himself deeper into her mouth. She felt his cock hit the back of her throat, and she gagged slightly, her eyes watering. But she didn't pull away. Instead, she took it as a challenge, her tongue swirling around the unfamiliar shape, exploring every inch of him.
As she continued to suck, she could feel his excitement growing, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. His hand on the back of her neck grew more insistent, pushing her to take more, to give him what he wanted. And for reasons she couldn't fully understand, she found herself eager to please him, eager to feel his release.
The tension in the air grew thicker, the only sounds the old man's labored breathing and the soft, wet noises of her mouth on his cock. He leaned heavily on her, his eyes locked onto hers as she worked him over, the power dynamic shifting with every stroke. His grip on her neck tightened, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw as he began to murmur filthy words of praise. "That's a good girl," he rasped, "so eager, so hungry for cock."
Sarah felt a surge of something she couldn't quite identify. It was a mix of anger and arousal, a burning need to prove herself to this man who saw her as a mere object of his desire. She took him deeper, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder, her tongue dancing around the swollen head of his dick. He groaned, his hips jerking in response, and she reveled in the power she had over him.
"Suck it, you little slut," he hissed, his voice strained with lust. "Take it all, like the greedy little dyke you are."
Sarah's eyes watered, not from the discomfort but from the raw, primal pleasure of it all. She had never been talked to this way before, had never been called such vile names. And yet, with each slur, she felt her resolve to continue waver. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to push him away and run, but her body had other ideas. It was as if she had unlocked a part of herself she had never known existed, a part that craved this kind of degradation, this kind of control.
The old man's hips began to move faster, his strokes more erratic as he approached climax. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice a harsh whisper. "You like being used, you dirty little whore."
The words hit her like a slap, stinging her pride but only serving to fuel her need. She moaned around his cock, her own desire spiraling out of control. She had never felt so alive, so alive with the kind of darkness she had always kept locked away. His cock swelled in her mouth, and she could feel his orgasm approaching, the throb of his pulse against her tongue.
And then it happened. He erupted, spurts of hot cum filling her mouth. She choked, trying to swallow it all, the salty taste coating her throat. She pulled back, gasping for air, her eyes watering.
The old man's chuckles grew louder as he watched her, his cock still spurting cum. It painted her gothic makeup in a grotesque new pattern, a stark white contrast against the black. "Looks like you enjoyed that," he said, his voice a low, amused rumble.
Sarah stared up at him, a mix of shock, disgust, and something else... something she didn't dare admit to herself. She reached up with trembling fingers, wiping the sticky mess from her mouth and chin.
"Swallow it, love," he instructed, his voice still a purr. "It's all part of the experience."
With a grimace, she did as he said, the salty fluid sliding down her throat. It was a strange victory, a claim she never thought she would concede to a man. But there was no denying the thrill that coursed through her, the sense of the forbidden she had just indulged in.
The old man tucked himself back into his trousers, his smile never fading. "Well, that was quite the appetizer," he said, patting her cheek with a hand that smelled faintly of tobacco and sex. "But I'm sure you're eager to get home to your girlfriend."
Sarah nodded, still trying to process the events of the last few minutes. She felt dirty and used, yet also strangely alive, as if she had just crossed some kind of line. The old man leaned down, his breath hot against her ear.
"Remember, love," he whispered, "you know where to find me if you ever want to explore more."
Sarah nodded mutely, her eyes never leaving his. The hand on her thigh grew bolder, his fingers tracing the line of her stockings, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the cold metal beneath her. She felt a shiver run through her, and it wasn't from the cold. The old man's touch was firm, yet gentle, a contradiction that had her stomach fluttering. She should have felt repulsed, but instead, she felt... alive.
His hand continued to move upward, inch by agonizing inch, until it reached the hem of her skirt. He paused for a moment, as if asking for permission, then slid his hand beneath the fabric, his rough palm brushing against the bare skin of her upper thigh. She gasped, her body responding instinctively to his touch.
The warmth of his hand was like a brand, searing through the layers of her clothing and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her pussy clenched, and she could feel the wetness seep through her panties. The old man's smile grew wider, his eyes never leaving hers as he caressed her, his thumb coming dangerously close to her swollen clit.
Sarah's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She had never felt like this before, never wanted a man's touch so badly. It was as if the act of sucking his cock had unlocked something primal within her, something that craved more. She should have been disgusted, should have pushed him away, but she found herself leaning into his touch, her body betraying her every instinct.
The old man's hand reached the top of her thigh, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her panties. She could feel the heat of his palm, the calloused skin sending waves of sensation through her. Her breath hitched, her eyes closing involuntarily as he began to rub her clit in slow, deliberate circles.
Her knees grew weak, and she leaned against the bus stop for support, her head falling back with a soft moan. She could feel her orgasm building, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter. The old man's other hand came up to cup her breast, his thumb flicking at her hardened nipple through the fabric of her bra.
The world around them faded away, the deserted street and flickering lights nothing more than a backdrop to their depraved encounter. Sarah's hands found his shoulders, gripping them tightly as she ground her hips against his hand. She was so close, so close to coming apart in his arms.
But just as she was about to climax, the sound of an approaching engine split the silence, the headlights of a bus cutting through the darkness. The old man's hand stilled, his smile fading as reality crashed back into the moment. He stepped back, zipping up his trousers as the bus pulled up to the stop with a hiss of brakes.
Sarah straightened her clothes, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. She couldn't believe what she had just done, what she had almost allowed to happen. But as she boarded the bus, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had just taken a step down a path she might not be able to come back from.
3 months ago
