Safe and sound, albeit hornier than ever

Maybe it was the teasing, or maybe it was because the day was hot, but my clingy top was feeling too tight. Avoiding eye contact with the bus driver and the boys who'd seen me I reached up to subtly take hold of my shirt and fan myself just a little. The sense of relief was enormous as the air breezed down between my two breasts, squashed together by a small push-up bra.

Having momentarily lost the interest of the boys I fanned my top harder just as the bus hit a pothole, sending us bouncing into the air and down again. My fanning continued for a few seconds before I realized I was feeling a great deal more air than before.

Opening my eyes I stared down, seeing instead of a hint of cleavage a deep crevasse and a bra strap exposed to the world. During the bump my grasping hand had accidentally yanked two buttons loose, much to the delight of whoever was watching.

"See that?" I heard a voice say, letting me know that at least one person had noticed the new display.

"Slut's playing with her nipple," said another, and I knew it was the two boys again, staring at me. A blush crossed my face as I realized that my hand had slipped from the buttons and somehow landed on what was now a rock-hard nipple.

I tried to let go, but my mind seemed to over-rule my orders, revelling in the feeling each little tug gave and the feeling of shameful embarrassment the whispers around me provoked.

In desperation I finally **** my hand away and toward my lap, crossing my legs like I was putting up a shield.

Risking a glance at the boys I saw them staring at my chest and legs, alternating their views. I could understand them looking at my chest, but why were they looking at my legs? Did they like the thigh-highs?

It took me a moment to realize that the bump had shifted me forward a little, meaning that the skirt had ridden up just a bit and when I'd crossed my legs I'd wound up with the entire outside portion of my leg exposed right up to and including my asscheek.

Clutching the pole beside my seat I debated what to do. I had been seeking attention, after all, but I'd meant to seek it on my terms. Instead, it was like fate was forcing me down a path, choosing my humiliations for me. I idly ran my hand up and down the round pole as I debated whether I should go home, get off the bus, or give in and start participating instead of reacting.

"Wish she'd stroke me like that," I heard a voice say, and looked around from under my eyelashes. It took me a long moment to realize that the voice had been referring to how my hand was moving up and down the pole repeatedly. I hadn't even though about it, but could it be construed in a sexual way?

I stared at the pole and crossed my legs again, doing it slowly, deliberately letting my legs go wider and slower as I unfolded them. I was just about to recross my legs when some big fat guy plopped himself down on the other side of the pole.

Actually, he'd sat a seat away, but his bulk meant he was also occupying half a seat on either side. I was just happy he hadn't sat right beside me so I ignored him.

"Could you move over a bit?" someone asked, and I turned to see a skinny old guy motioning to the seat beside me. There must have been another fat guy on the bus because there was only half a seat, and skinny as the man was he'd never fit in it.

"Oh, uh, sure," I said, taught by my parents to be respectful to my elders. I debated standing, and half-rose before an alternative popped into my mind. Without thinking it through I lifted my leg and shifted toward the fat guy, my heel on the seat for a moment before putting it back down on the floor, leaving me, straddling the pole that fastened to the seat, with one leg on each side of it. It took me a moment to realize I'd probably just flashed people.

"Thanks," the man said, setting himself down, but not before putting a bulky briefcase on the seat behind me, trapping me at the very front of the seat.

Pressed up against the pole I felt every vibration from the bus's engine, and every bounce of the road being fed straight into my clit. My pussy pressed against it, rubbing up and down with the bounces, growing increasingly wet as the trip continued, and I closed my eyes to keep myself from humping it.

"Fucking the pole!" a quiet voice said, embarrassing me further. And yet, as if in response I pressed myself more firmly against the pole, even feeling it between my breasts.

I'd heard whispers of girls sitting on their parents' washing machines, but never understood why until then. The trip seemed to take forever, and during that eternity I felt like I had a vibrator pressed to my clit, slowly working to make me feel hotter and hotter. I had to clench the pole to not touch myself, and even so my hands roamed downward until I **** them up again. The boys made muttered comments, letting me know they'd noticed.

At last my stop came and I stumbled out of my awkward position. I was sure that I'd flashed several people, but at that point I didn't care and rushed to get off the bus. I spent a long moment looking around, trying to remember what I'd come here for, and got a good look at all the shops around me before I decided what I wanted to do first.