My gait got slower as I stopped to think about what was said and done on the bus. My panties were soaked everytime he would look at me, even before that day. I always had to cross my legs together in order to avoid embarrassment and a possible orgasm on the bus. Although I’ve often wondered what that would be like… just to have someone’s eyes glued upon me as I worked my magic (touch!). They could even be masturbating as well… as long as we would all gather in the enjoyment, perhaps even have an orgy. I often wondered what the bus driver looked like naked. Silly me.
I forgot to mention his bloody name. It’s David.
That’s all I know about him. His name. And what he looks like. And both attributes are very sexy. I’ve always loved the name David. There seems to be an archaic background about it. A small hero that slays a giant as the entire town watches. Exhibitionism and voyeurism, although in a purer and non-sexual context.
Or it could be, depending on how literary critics read a pious fairy tale like the Bible. Sex is sinful remember, let ALONE voyeurism or dressing like the Whore of Babylon. Sex is a private and procreational duty…
Bollocks.
I’m not at all a Bible-Thumper…
or like David Beckham.
I support the Mighty Reds though! Carragher is much cuter. Anyroad, I’ve always fancied my David. My thoughts flutter back and forth to the thought of an absolute sweet chap, greeting little old ladies as they sought refuge after a cold day in December, to the sultry wink he greeted me with after I was done my exam, my lipstick half gone because of my cigarette, my mascara probably running. That I don’t mind. It gives me kind of a “bad-girl” look, come-to-bed-eyes. Which I’ve also been told I have. I don’t mind that at all either. I stop in front of a glass mirror in the lavatory and wash my face a wee bit. I leave some smudging of my kohl but re-apply my lipstick. I also give my teeth a brush… my breath smells like cigarette smoke, I know.
I know smoking’s bad for me, you don’t have to tell me. But you’re not kissing an ashtray by any means. I walk along the alabaster floor of the shopping centre, my heeled boots giving me blisters the size of marbles. Ouch! Stop your whinging, you’re almost done shopping.
It’s going to be a small Christmas this year. Times are bad. I just started my job so I don’t have much money in my bank, but I think I got pretty decent gifts. I kept wondering what Tony, my brother would like. He’s said nowt to me about Christmas so I never know what to get him. He’s not that interested in football or sports anymore. He’s more into racing and cars. So I got him a calendar, one of lorries, the other of scantily-clad women wearing fanny fringes, sitting on the bonnets of cars with a curious, cute pout on their bright candygloss lips. They turn me on somewhat… I wish I were Rachel, Miss November. She was a stunner indeed. Long, dark brown hair, aquamarine eyes and a tan that would not quit. Her tits looked a D-cup although they seemed too perfect and pert to be natural. They were too spaced out to be real. But some girls have perky large and real breasts. Her stomach was one that was as flat as a washboard. It was clear that she exercised and worked on the treadmill for two hours a day. I’m sure her existence was based on water.
My own tits are juicy and supple. I love feeling them in my own hands. I slip a hand into my tweed overcoat. My breasts feel warm and soft for the most part but the nips are as hard as rocks. Mmm, Rachel is so delicious. I could have a threesome with her, me and hmm.. David. I feel the moistness of the arousal soaking through my panties and I feel stuck. I’m next in the queue. The woman is an elderly woman, she looks at me pecularily as if I were constipated, the way I bend and squat down to contain my orgasm.
I can’t look at Rachel anymore. She’ll give me a proper heart attack if I stare into her crystal eyes, ogle her tight red jumper that pushes up her breasts and I stare at her long, lean legs. Her skirt is short and denim, unevenly torn at the bottom. It’s still sexy as hell though. She wears a pair of wire rimmed glasses. Perhaps she’s taking on the school girl look.
Fuck me her tits are just hanging out there and it doesn’t matter to her. It’s voyeurism through shrink wrap!
I give the cashier a fiver, tell her to keep the change and make a hasty exit in the middle of the aisle way. Bloody hell, I need to get our Tony more than just a calender. I check my mobile phone to see who’s called me. Just my friend Kaydee, wanting to know when we can get together for lunch again. I make a mental note to call her later on in the night, when I’ve finished wrapping my pressies.
I look around the shops again, seeing if there’s owt else I can get for Tony. I walk into LaCoste and buy him a bottle of cologne. He likes that kind of thing and he’s a looker. What are you doing girl calling your brother a looker?
It’s right though. Tall, rich brown eyes and nappy hair he’s the object of affection to all the girls at college.
Many girls comment on how fit he is and that’s why they want to go out with him. He’s got so much more going for him too. He’s eighteen and I’m sure he’ll do fine in the ladies department. I wish I had his luck.
I take another look at the time. One-thirty. Another hour Dad will be here. I think I’ll have a tea and chocolate scone.
I go to the small, quaint coffee shop that is in the middle of the shopping centre. Dad knows he’ll be meeting me here anyroad. Not busy at all. I order some breakfast tea and a homemade scone. It takes about five minutes to prepare the scone but it is warm, delicious and floury. I’ve never really had scones much. Mum’s made lemon ones but the sugar was missing from the recipe. So they didn’t turn out well. But no matter to me because these were bloody decadent. The chocolate melted in my mouth and in the pastry as I tried to savour every bit, moistening my finger to get every crumb that was left. I could feel the chocolate oozing out the corners of my mouth. I sip my tea, considerably cooled down. I recline in the plush chairs when I hear someone’s coffee spill.
“Arr fuckin ‘ell,” a man’s exasperated voice exclaimed. “the tea’s already bloody expensive enough. I don’t half have two left ‘ands. Greg’ry would ye get me another tea? I’ll give you a fiver, ere y’are.” It sounded like he held a cigarette in his teeth as he was talking to Gregory. He rolled his eyes and put his hand on his temple. I turned my head some more and looked harder. I suddenly recognised him. The reddish gold in his goatee shone in the dim light.
David!
I was lost for words. I didn’t know how to approach him. I really liked him but how was I going to talk to him after what he had said on the bus.
What the hell, girl! Make a move! Talk to him he’s having a bad day. Maybe if you showed ya tits to him though it might bring a smile on ‘is gob! Shut up, estrogen.
I built up the courage to walk over to him. There weren’t many people in the shop so it wouldn’t really be a crowd I’d be attracting. I cleared my throat, dry from my cigarette I had with my scone.
“David, hiya.” I said quietly. He didn’t seem to hear me well
“Hiya David!” I said, this time a little too loudly. Some people turned their heads but swiftly turned them back.
“Oh my god, Jude!” he exclaimed, over the moon to see me. “Commover here, girl and have a seat.” I shyly walked over to where he was sitting. The chairs seemed much softer and supple. I blushed immediately at the thought of those words. We looked on, rather uncomfortable for a bit (which seemed like hours) until I broke the ice and asked him how his day has been.
He smiled, relieved. “Going well, yeah. Am done for the day and I gerra week off for Chrimbo.”
“That sounds great, Dave. Are you celebrating it with your family?”
I loved his guttural Scouse accent. “Yerr I am well, just me mum is coming over. Would have a lot better time if you were there anyroad. You’re a decent gal, Jude. Any bloke would be a saddo not to gizzy’a chance.” He winked again. His beautiful features became more sombre and confessional. “Jude, there’s sommat I hafta tell you.”
Thumpthumpthumpthumpdddddd goes my heart.
Settle down, calm as possible now. “What’s that Dave?”
“Erm- well, you know when I said you was looking fine on the bus, right after you left?”
“Yes.” My heart stopped. Please don’t let it be just a fucking lie or sarcastic insult.
His tone dropped to a whisper. “I saw you this morning.”
“I know you did. I rode the bus with you, remember?”
“That’s not what I mean.” he said, panic striking his gorgeous eyes. “I meant I saw you, earlier on. At six o’clock about.”
I turned beet red. “You- did?” A huge lump formed in my throat. I envisioned it as me deep-throating him. Sweat was running down my forehead again. I took off my hat and rubbed my head. “You’re saying… that you saw me, completely naked and wet?”
“That’s right love,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “And I proper loved every minute of it. Those fucking juicy breasts of yours, wavering up and down. I’d love to have a feel for them. And those legs, I know you work out. They’re dead strong.” He looked at me closely and ran one of his hands through my hair. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.
“David, I have to tell you something aswell. I’ve always fancied you for the longest time. I don’t know I’ve had a thing for older men. They get me more. They turn me on, just how strong they are.” I poured out my heart to David, from everything to my fantasy with masturbating on the bus to a threesome with Rachel, to him even looking at me that sent me off my rocker.
“Well there is one way we can settle both of our wildest desires.” he said, rather innocently but I know he was about to give me his soul.
“And how’s that?” I asked. I was trepidated. I was flying high. I was… about to be enlightened in these monumental depths of sexual wisdom and realisation when my mobile rang. It was Dad.
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