The Bus Trip

Ria walked with a noticeable limp as she was escorted out of the security office by Marta and a male guard. Her holes were stretched more than ever before and her lower half was drenched with lube. She felt exhausted, uncomfortable and above all, violated.

Poor Ria had never felt so bad in her entire life.

Clarke was waiting with the rest of their luggage. He did his best to hide his grin but ultimately failed. “What happened, Ria?”

“Don’t talk to me, Clarke.”

“You look utterly miserable. Did they give you a cavity search?”

“Let’s just say they left no stone unturned… and thoroughly searched every nook and cranny I have.”

"Damn." Clarke grimaced. " Did they find anything?"

"Of course not."

"I wonder why they felt the need."

"You know damn well why." Ria snapped and began walking towards the concourse in search for their gate number."You're pulling the strings."

"Nonsense. As if I’d have such influence "

"Money brings influence. And you have a shit load of money. Hence, why you've signed me up to a ruinous contract, and I now have a vagina you could you could reverse park a car in."

"Oh, don't tell me that."

"Why?"

"Because I’m a twisted man who loves a challenge." Clarke then turned to Ria and wanted to know why she had changed from her traditional sari to skinny black jeans and a pink t-shirt. “What happened to the sari? I was getting used to that.”

“It’s in my luggage, I would have taken me half an hour to get it back on. We would have missed the flight.”

Clarke muttered under his breath. "You might come to regret that."

~

While Clarke enjoyed the luxuries of business class, Ria was travelling in economy. She was wedged between two fat Indian women. But at least she could enjoy eight hours away from Clarke... That she felt grateful for.

Fortunately, there was no mile-high club which Ria had half expected. Partly the reason while she hadn't bothered fully cleaning away the lube. She dreaded being ask to sleep with Clarke but guessed it would only be a matter of time.

So she enjoyed a well-earned sleep.

~

Thankfully for Ria security at Mumbai International went without a hitch. It was just the heat that was now bothering her and she longed for a shower.

She followed Clarke through a heaving terminal, pulling their luggage trolley behind her. Her arms soon ached and she moaned, "Slow down, Clarke, or at least help me carry our luggage."

"Stop complaining and hurry up, we'll miss the bus otherwise."

"Bus? I thought you only travel by limo. At least let’s get our own taxi. I stink."

"You'll fit in with everyone else, then."

"But…"

"No, we're bussing it I'm afraid. "

Sweat was gathering on Ria brow. She couldn’t believe the heat and how many humans lived in this megapolis. Wherever she looked there were thousands upon thousands of people. “Where are we going?”

“Just follow me.”

They reached the airport’s bustling bus terminal which was crammed packed full of commuters, street hawkers and child beggars.

Clarke stopped at an antique bus, an Hindustan Motors bus from the late 70s. The driver looked annoyed that they were late and recklessly began throwing their luggage into the storage cells above the axel.

Ria and Clarke were last on. She was distraught to find the bus was crammed with people, and that she was forced to stand in the walkway. Ria looked around and guessed they were heading to the rural villages as there were chickens, dogs and even a goat onboard. The few passengers that were women were old wrinkly grandmothers.

Another concern Ria has was that as far as she could see, apart from Clarke, she was the only person wearing western clothes.

Ria felt increasingly filled with regret about her latest poor choice, her clothes. With no air con on the coach, a sari would have been cooler. But it would have also hidden the curve of her bum from prying eyes.

Not that it is usually a major issue in the west. Unless drunk in a bar, Ria found western men tend to look but do not touch.

But from her childhood back in Sri Lanka, she remembers her mother’s warning of wearing tight western clothing. “If you flaunt it, Ria, sadly a lot of men feel entitled to touch it. So, when travelling alone it is best you wear a sari or kurta. Seeing the curves of a woman gives men wicked thoughts.”

Clarke was stood in front of Ria, and an elderly bearded man behind. She was wedged between the two.

The bus suddenly roared into life, jetting out a cloud of dark smoke and gases as it began to turn its road wheels on the baked tarmac.

It was an uncomfortable ride as the traffic was stop-start and the road surface soon became potholed.

For those left standing, to avoid falling into other passengers everyone tried to hold onto nearby headrests or hang onto the luggage rails above.

Ria stretched her arms and stepped on her toes so she could hold onto the rails, but this displayed her lean frame in her tight shirt and jeans, the small mounds of her petite chest were suddenly more pronounced and the curve of her arse was on show.

Ria knew everyone was looking but what could she do?

The bus suddenly braked for a set of traffic lights, causing the passengers to lunge forward. The elderly man fell into Ria, wrapping his arms around her waist to stop his fall. Ria's face smashed into the back of Clarke.

The elderly man apologised in Hindi but was slow to let go of Ria. In fact, his hands moved onto her hips before he straightened his back then let go. He smiled but didn’t get one back.

The bus pulled into a mainline rail station and more passengers got on but no one got off. The passengers were now bunched up tightly and suddenly the old man was pressed up against Ria.

To Ria's horror she could feel the old man's cock prodding her arse as he began to slowly grind against her like a pervert .

Ria couldn't ignore it any longer so she whispered to Clarke. “Can we swap places? The old man is groping me.”

"Let him do as he pleases.”

"What? But he was touching me with his cock"

Clarke sniggered. "Good. Let him."

"No. Please... "As the bus continued on its way Ria felt the elderly man fidgeting behind her. It suddenly occurred to her what the old man was doing… "No. It's horrendous. He's now wanking."

"You will do. In fact, for punishment for whining.. You will wank him off."

"I'm not doing that "

"That is a direct order. If you don't, you'll be left in the slums on your own, while I will be sending your sex videos to everyone you know. Now make him cum."

Ria scowled at Clarke. "I've never hated someone as much as I hate you." She reached behind her, searching blindly for the old man's cock. The elderly man could see what she was doing and helped her out, slapping his cock in her open palm.

Ria winced as she gripped the slimy penis.

Clarke was now facing the pair and watched Ria's displeasure as she wanked the smiling old bearded man. "That's a good girl." He then gestured for the old man to grope Ria's tits from behind, lifting her shirt up to expose her flat swimmers belly.

Ria shook her head at Clarke but he ignored her. He instead smiled as the old man accepted his invitation by slipping his workman-like hands under Ria's shirt then began feeling her tiny tits.

Ria shivered as the old man massaged her breasts through her bra. The skin of his hands felt callous and rough. His touch was hard and unloving.

She closed her eyes and prayed. Ria picked up the pace of the wanking in the hope of getting it over with quickly. She also began to moan audibly under the old man's touch. A performance and a tactic she had often used on Dan, her husband.

Some of the passengers had noticed what was going on but instead of intervening were now watching with great interest.

Clarke began to tug at Ria's jeans. "You can either blow him, or fuck him. What is it to be?"

Ria gulped as she contemplated the answer. She really didn't want to do either. So she squeezed the old man's sticky cock and began vigorously wanking it as if she wanted to rip it off.

The old groaned aloud, and began shaking at his knees.

To Ria's great relief the old man's cock exploded in Ria's hand, shooting years of frustration into Ria's hand and onto the floor.

A big streak of cum even hit Clarke's expensive Italian leather shoe. Clarke glared at Ria. "You think you're clever, don't you? Think you've outwitted me by pushing the pensioner over the edge" He could tell Ria was looking for something to wipe her hand clean on. "Well, you can lick your hand clean."

"But..."

"No buts... Or I'll have you clean the man's cock too."

Ria lifted her hand to her face. It was full of thick white viscous cum and smelt of fish. She shook her head as she arched neck forward and began to lick her palm clean, similar to how a cat cleans it's paw.

The taste caused Ria to wretch right away but she stuck at her task like a pro.

Ria found the salty putrid taste repulsive and continued to wretch until her eyes watered and nose began to stream.

Everyone around her continued to watch this strange foreign woman and her filthy habits. A couple of then other men were also now wanking.

Clarke smiled as Ria finished cleaning her hand.. He loved the tortured look across her face. "Now my shoe."

Ria cried a little as climbed down onto her knees. She knew she had no choice. Her head filled with regret and wonder at how her life had come to this.

On all fours like a dog Ria stuck out her little pink tongue. She then began mopping up the cum from the top of Clarke's shoe.

Ria felt like a perverted shoe shiner. The fact she was swallowing the cum revolted her. She only ever swallowed Dan's a few times.

She could feel it slipping down her throat. Every millimetre sickened Ria to her core. She feared the consequence .

And number of men were now leaning across their seats and groping Ria. Their hands were grabbing all they could. Her ass, pussy, her tits, her hair and stomach.

Ria began to fear for her life. She was going to be gang raped.

The bus began to slow, Clarke looked out of the window at the bustling shabby street. It was there stop.