(Alex) And seat to find

As the bus doors opened Alex was greeted by a familiar sight. The driver sat hunched over, leaning casually on his steering wheel. In his lap a curly-haired head bobbed. It’s young owner curled up between his open knees, her feet squeezed precariously between the pedals. She was something of a local legend among the various school groups in the vicinity. No-one really knew who she was… and yet they saw her every day, dedicatedly sucking away at whichever driver happened to be in control this time… Alex was somewhere in the middle of the pick up route, but she had heard that even kids who got on at the first stop did so to find her already present, perched in her normal spot, never talking to, or even glancing at, any of her fellow passengers. This led to rumours that she had no other home or family… that she stayed on the bus from dawn till dusk, always slurping away. Then was carried all the way back to the yard at night, to be shared among the drivers until tomorrow. Alex was not so convinced by this… she was pretty sure the bus drivers had other places to go after work than just hang around a parking yard all evening fucking the same girl. She guessed ‘bus-girl’ was just another young cock-addict who had found a way of getting what she craved without having to deal with the impotent attentions of horny teen boys all the time.

Speaking of which… Alex clambered up into the vehicle’s interior to see the usual chaos unfolding. The buses that only carried students who had come of age were a far less policed and controlled environment than those which had used to ferry her younger self toward class… probably due to the ever-distracted drivers. Yet a sort of unofficial hierarchy had always dominated this form of public transport, she had even heard her parents reference it from THEIR schooldays: The prudes sat at the front. Those who had only just reached maturity, or whose varying attractiveness, self-confidence or social-standing meant they did not merit any part of the melee occurring behind. Then, as you steadily went further back, there was more of an implication that a teen passenger was happy to be touched… or groped… or otherwise played with. Much of your high-school respect was based on how far back you dared to sit in such a situation. ‘Going back a few rows’ was an applauded act of throwing yourself to the wolves once in a while, which did not only apply to the bus but similar arrangements in assemblies, sporting events… or simply what you did during your lunch hour.

Of course the very back of the bus was reserved for those who had truly given in to the roaring hormones of their teenage sexualities. Any girl who marched her way that far wearing clothes would soon find herself relieved of them. The rule about consenting penetrations still held of course… but putting yourself in that position was basically taken as offering your body up to anyone, for everything. There were some girls who prided themselves in ‘riding the backseat’ every single day. They wouldn’t even bother getting dressed before catching the bus, carrying their uniforms in their school-bags and just throwing themselves at the roughest bands of boys their locality could offer. You could pick such girls out even during the rest of the day; by the running mascara or dried patches of semen they wore like medals. Or the tattered rips and tears in their clothing that were inevitable, whatever precautions they might take. In fact, whole fashion lines had dedicated themselves to producing carefully torn and battered-looking clothes… Just so rich girls could imitate that look, without all the grime and discomfort required to really get it… True ‘Backseaters’ hated those faker types more than anyone.

Alex picked out her usual seat about 2/3rds of the way back, far enough to maintain her reputation as a member of a four-child family, but not so far as that she was in any risk from the ‘splash-zone’. She had enough trouble getting this far into the morning still feeling fresh and clean ahead of a new day of unlimited possible surprises. Gracey was sat waiting for her. The girl’s blouse hanging open around her ample chest while some nameless hands reached around from the seat behind. She smiled a hello to her bestie as Alex settled herself down, expecting and paying no heed when her own pair of hands sprouted from between the backrests, taking firm hold of her… considerably less impressive assets. She chatted away amiably with Grace as the bus trundled on, discussing the day’s affairs as they always did. At some point her mystery fondler slid his or her hands down between her thighs, clearly bored of squeezing at the modest mounds of flesh above. She opened her legs a little, subconsciously. Whoever it was was not too bad actually… John, maybe? Or Cassandra? Those who accepted life as a regular grope-ee often found they gained favourites. The teen felt a certain warming redness begin to fill her cheeks and could see the same developing in Gracey. It was quite a long and traffic-laden jaunt to the school, punctuated by a thousand stops to pick up other students. It wasn’t unusual to find yourself brought to blushing orgasm as a final call to wake up before the school-day began. Of course, the whole bus would rock with laughter every time a particularly vocal passenger did so. Ah, the petty joys of high-school.