Aside from all the fun stuff, sisters are very good at pointing out one's flaws. In this case, Sheri pointed out to me that while I maintained that it would take her influence to get me into a situation where I was fucking in the back of a moving vehicle where the driver didn't know I was doing it, I was lying because I'd already done it. So that's one point in the "lying" box, one point in the "lousy memory" box, and one point in the "impugning my sister's character" box. All in all, a delightful reminder of why I should never have let anyone I know read this blog.
I would like to say, for the record, that Sheri is wonderful and I think her adventurous nature is an asset, not a flaw, and I enjoy when she pushes my boundaries. Also, I didn't lie, I forgot, which is a classic politician dodge and when you hear the story you may wonder how I could possibly have forgotten it, but I did really forget and I don't make it a habit to lie in my blog. Plus, Sheri's great, if I didn't mention that already.
Okay, now that I've worked off some of the bad karma, I can tell the story of the time I got lucky in the back of a bus. An oldie, but a goodie. Or is that "oldy but goody?" Add a point to the "unable to spell common idioms" box.
My high school had a van for the purposes of busing, so usually whenever there were more than about 5 people involved in a trip, they had to get a school bus to take us. But occasionally, you'd wind up with a population of trippers who were too large for the van but really too small for a bus, and so we'd wind up having all kinds of leg room in the bus.
Despite anything remotely sexual being frowned upon by the authorities of the school, there was plenty of lap-sitting between coeducational couples, and I got felt up regularly on bus rides. The Catholic schoolgirl uniform just screams, "Hey, boy, slip a hand up under my skirt," and since I was open to that kind of thing more so than many girls, I got to reap the benefits more often.
Still, even though I'd been on several bus rides with a little manual stimulation, there had never really been anything more than that because it's not easy to do anything under the watchful eyes of peers and grownups. But one trip, there were maybe 10 of us because several people had gotten sick before the trip, and there was only one chaperon because we were supposed to be the responsible group. Which we were, I guess, but it just happened that in this group were both I and a guy I'd fooled around with on several occasions, given him head behind the gym (a classic) and behind the church after mass (not so classic, but oh lordy did it help get out the church ya-yas), that kind of thing.
And our chaperon would get motion sick if he turned around to look at us.
Yeah, the perfect storm of opportunities. And I don't say that in hindsight, I say that having said it at the time. I essentially thought to myself, "Hey, guy who's willing to do things, bus sparsely populated, back seat available with no looky-lous, chaperon unable to watch us closely... yeah, I should totally go for it." Which is the part of the story most important to Sheri, because it proves that I have somewhat poor impulse control even without her sterling influence. There you go, sis.
Brandon (my prospective partner for the dance) expected perhaps a bit of fun, some light petting, that sort of thing. We couldn't kiss, really, because that would have been bleedingly obvious even in a mirror, but I did sit on his lap (ah, the wonderful lack of safety on school buses) and wiggled my butt against him and let him get my skirt hiked all the way up and his hand up in my blouse. Fortunately the seat backs were high and he kept his hand on my belly mostly, didn't try to go for my tits.
But after we'd been on the road for fifteen minutes, and things had settled down and people were talking or reading or writing or whatever the hell it was they were doing in preparation for where we were going, I whispered to him that I wanted to touch his cock. I couldn't go down on him, again, too obvious if a girl's head suddenly disappears into a guy's lap. But I got the monster out of his pants, already nice and hard and of a decent size, and stroked it.
He said he was going to explode if I wasn't careful and make a mess. I said I knew how we could keep the mess to a minimum. Then I slipped my panties down, slid back, and he slipped right into my pussy.
And then he came. Oy. I don't think he'd ever actually penetrated anyone before, and he was on a hair-trigger anyway. But I didn't mind that much. We cleaned up as best we could, I used my panties to mop up cum, and then I announced more loudly than was necessary, "Crap, I dropped my hair band." Down into his lap I went, sucked him clean, then popped up again. I only had the balls to try that once; I guess I could have continued to come up with excuses to bend over, since I was on the window seat, but it would have gotten obvious.
I really wanted to have him again, maybe without him prematurely ejaculating, but the trip wasn't that long and I didn't want to make a scene. I settled for letting him slip his fingers into my wet pussy and stroke me until I came, definitely not the best orgasm I've ever had, but heightened by the public spectacle.
To this day, I don't know if anyone noticed. Certainly the driver and the chaperon didn't, but it's possible that some kids in the rows up from us weren't fooled at all. If they weren't, they didn't say anything. He was wearing light-colored pants and the few stains didn't show much, but I suppose someone might have noticed them too. Again, no one said a thing. If someone did notice and is reading this blog now, why the Hell didn't you ask to join in? Why keep quiet when you can join the fun?
Now, I told you that story because I was forced to do so. It's not the sexiest story ever, even if it did involve a guy cumming inside me on a bus. Basically, there's plenty of room for improvement, so all the things I said about never having done it, pretend I said, "I've done it, but it could have been better, and I wish I could do it again better."
There, everyone happy? No, probably everyone is wishing it had been better the first time, so the story would have been sexier. A threesome in the back of a moving bus where people don't know, now that would be something. Impossible, I guess, but something.
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