Living in a little rural village as you did, you were used to many a long a lonely half hour waiting for the bus. Most of the houses were empty this time of year, second homes of London wankers left unoccupied till the summer, and those that weren’t housed either the elderly or professionals, neither of which tended to be around much during a week-day, and so for all the years of days you’d taken the bus to town, you’d only seen another person pass by a couple of times before. Once was Elis, about a year ago, who’s car had broken down that day so they had to take the bus in a panic (He’d pestered you endlessly for reassurance that the bus was, indeed, coming), and the other time was Jim who just drove past you with an inconsiderate wave middle of last summer.
Annoyingly, living in a little rural village, as you did, everyone knew everyone and everyone knew you as “the guy who takes the bus” as if that was the only interesting quality you had. Literally every interaction you had with anyone else in the village began with them asking you some idiotic small-talk question regarding the bus and/or taking the bus; “Bus come on time today?”, “Was the bus busy today?”, sometimes they would even bring up completely random bus related information as if to please you; “I hear they’re using buses to replace the trains in town” or “how do you feel about these electric buses they’re planning on bringing out?”
You did not fucking care about buses but you’d politely humoured the villager’s small talk for far too long to admit that to anyone now and the Bus had become your singular identifying quality. Irritating, but not the worst; Jim was known as “panty-sniffer Jimbo” so things could be far worse.
Anyway, all this is to say that you were very surprised to see someone walking towards you today, as you waited at the bus stop. Living in a little rural village, as you did, you knew everyone and so you knew that it was Bryony, who was Steven’s third daughter with Susanne before they split for the second time; mostly known as “Quiet Bryony” and not to be confused with “Tall Bryony” who was generally considered to be a bit of cunt. “Quiet Bryony” must have been home from University, you assumed.
Anyway, you didn’t want to scare her or make her feel uncomfortable so you tried to act like her walking past wasn’t the most exciting thing that had ever happened while you waited for the bus, which was quite difficult because she wasn’t wearing very many clothes. It was warm for December, yes, but to be out with only a little crop top and booty shorts was quite a statement, especially ones so tight that her volumous bum and breasts looked about ready to tear themselves free with every step she took! If anyone else in the village saw her dressed like that she’d have the name “Slut Bryony” in no time at all.
Anyway
You realised you were staring at her with your mouth hanging open moments after she reached you. Trying to save face, you sucked the drool from your lip and tried to give her a friendly smile; you didn’t get anything back from her, just an innocent blink from her big blue eyes. She walked up right in front of you, flicked her eyes to your feet, then turned to face the road.
You were sat down on the single seat available, so your head was uncomfortably close to the perfect hight to stare at her barely covered bottom; in fact she was standing rather close to you too so it would have been quite a challenge not to stare at it even if your penis wasn’t barking the order to your brain. You could feel heat in your cheeks, you looked right and tried to focus on a weed growing out the base of the bus sign. Suddenly you felt quite protective of your “bus” title, a situation like this could easily end up with you being titled “Sex pervert” instead; you HAD to let her know that wasn’t the case, you were BUS MAN so you summoned all of your bus persona energy and cheerily blurted the small-talk of the century “Waiting for the bus?”
She looked over her shoulder at you, her big blue eyes signalling nothing but doe-like innocence. Your smile eroded under her and your eyes dropped awkwardly from the silence - which is when you noticed the pink wire. Like a fish drawn to lure you followed it with your eyes, down her leg a little, then a loop, then back up and up right to wear it went through a little hole in her booty shorts then vanished between two soft and wet little lips. You could hear a muffled buzzing now, from in there. A bead of sweat rolled down your forehead. Words written in black marker caught your eye, “Fuck me right here” it said, bold and clear where her left buttock escaped the denim of her shorts. You swallowed, your throat felt dry. You looked back up at her face, still plainly regarding you over her shoulder, still beaming with innocent beauty.
She shook her hips a little, you pulled the wire out of her, pressed her against the old, cold and mossy brick wall, dragged your cock out your flies and discovered that “Quiet Bryony” could in fact be rather loud if you fucked her hard and deep enough.
Unfortunately that meant a few people heard… so it wasn’t long before you had to move out of the village after that, oh well.
Love you XOXO