I was traveling with my ex-boyfriend on a bus full of people and this happened…you wouln’t believe that’

The bus rumbled along, the hum of the engine a dull roar against the chatter of passengers. I was sandwiched between strangers, my ex, Jake, sitting across the aisle, his eyes locked onto me with a familiar hunger. We’d been playing this game all day, a silent dance of lust and longing. His hand, tattooed and rough, shifted on his thigh, fingers tracing patterns that mimicked the ones I craved on my skin. I could feel the heat of his gaze, the weight of his desire, as he mentally undressed me, his eyes lingering on the swell of my tits, the curve of my hips. The bus hit a pothole, jolting me, and I used the moment to shift, spreading my legs slightly, giving him a flash of the lace panties I’d worn just for him. His breath hitched, a small sound in the noise of the bus, but I heard it, felt it deep in my core. I wanted his cock, wanted to feel him stretch me, fill me, make me scream. But for now, I’d settle for the thrill of the tease, the power of the anticipation.

I leaned forward, my hair falling like a curtain around us, blocking the world outside. Jake’s hand snaked out, grabbing my wrist, pulling me closer. His mouth was hot on my ear, his voice a low growl. “You’re playing with fire, babe,” he whispered, his tongue tracing the shell of my ear. I shivered, my nipples hardening, pressing against the thin fabric of my shirt. I could feel the wetness pooling between my legs, the ache growing, demanding. Jake’s hand slid up my thigh, his fingers brushing against the damp lace, teasing, tormenting. I bit my lip, stifling a moan, my hips bucking slightly, seeking more. The bus lurched again, and Jake’s fingers slipped inside my panties, finding my clit, rubbing it in slow, torturous circles. I gasped, my eyes fluttering closed, the world around me fading away. All I could focus on was Jake, his touch, his scent, the promise of more. His fingers worked me, bringing me to the edge, then pulling back, leaving me panting and desperate. I could feel his cock, hard and ready, pressing against my leg. I wanted it, wanted to feel him inside me, fucking me, owning me. But for now, I’d take what he gave, savoring the sweet torture, the delicious agony of the wait.