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Amy’s head bounced off the damp window and her eyes fluttered open. Her hair was wet from the condensation on the window and it clung to her face. Through the head shaped gap in the misty glass Amy could see Buckingham Palace. “Shit,” she thought with a glance at her watch, “I’m going to be late, again.” The number 19 bus crawled through the rush-hour traffic towards Chelsea. Amy wriggled deeper into her winter coat and wiped the window clear. She liked to sit on the upstairs deck of the bus. From there she could ignore the crowds of tourists, yelling motorists, and relentless Starbucks chains. Amy preferred to watch the cityscape; London’s imposing architecture was her getaway. Not that it helped much today. The buildings were the same grey as the sky and the drizzle and the suits that marched past.
Amy thought she had better send a text to Caitlyn, the mother of the children she was supposed to have started babysitting five minutes ago.
-Traffic is a state, so so sorry C! Be with you in 10!
The phone buzzed almost instantly.
-No problem hun, see you soon x
Amy smiled to herself. It wasn’t ideal having to travel across town after a day of university classes, but Amy was barely making ends meet and she needed the money badly. Besides, Caitlyn’s home was a cozy sanctuary for her. The wood burner was always going and no doubt Caitlyn has been baking during the day. Amy always dreaded when the time came to tuck the kids into bed and return to her icy student flat.
And there was one other benefit of the number 19 bus. Amy’s cute literature professor, Dr. Mitchell, was often on it too. She would rush from her final lecture so that she could get the seat behind the bus stairs. Then she had the perfect view of his tight butt as he climbed them. As he rounded the pole he would often catch Amy’s eye and she would quickly look away with a rosy blush. If only she could just muster the courage to talk to him!
But she never did, and the professor would take his seat across the aisle from Amy and she would berate herself for being so timid. “That’s probably why Tom dumped you for that cheerleading slut,” Amy criticized herself silently. Remembering the damp hair plastered to her forehead she hastily rearranged it, hoping that Dr. Mitchell had not seen. If only she had the balls to talk to him, then maybe, maybe, she could forget about Tom for five minutes.
Amy and her best friend, Georgia, were staring across the student union bar at Dr. Mitchell.
“Do you think he’s single?” Amy asked without taking her longing gaze off him.
“With a body like that, you must be joking.” Georgia replied.
At that moment the third member of their trio arrived with three jaggerbombs and a bottle of sauvignon blanc.
“Nope, he’s still on the market,” Emily said nonchalantly, “Now drink up girls, essays are in, time for the gin!”
Emily was about to knock back the shot when she noticed the dumbstruck look of the other girls.
“Ok, it’s not gin, but you get the point,” Emily said before necking the drink, “cheers!”
Amy couldn’t restrain herself; she just had to know more. “It’s not that, you bimbo. How do you know he is single?”
“Spill the beans!” Georgia added.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I found him on Facebook and had a little stalk. Ok, a long stalk. You should check it out, the beach pics from Barbados ’14…yes please!”
Amy poured herself a large glass of wine and went back to wistfully staring at the professor, daydreaming of rubbing sun lotion onto his tight abs and strong arms on a white sand beach… Amy was snapped escort bostancı back to reality when Emily reached over and popped a button undone on her blouse. Amy had worn her favourite one today for Dr. Mitchell; it clung tightly to her figure and revealed just enough of her white lace bra to tease the professor. Or so she hoped. But even by Emily’s brazen standards this was forward.
“Oh don’t give me the nun treatment, do you want him to look at you or not? If I had tits like yours I wouldn’t bother with the bra at all!” Emily had a way of reading Amy’s thoughts, and putting them much more bluntly. Blunt was her style. “I can’t believe that prick Tom chucked you. You’re practically busting out of that thing.”
Amy could see Tom ordering drinks at the bar and wouldn’t put it past Emily to make a scene. “Keep it down, he might hear you!”
“Hey, Tom!” Emily shouted. Tom looked around as Amy ducked her head until the table. “You’re a prick!”
The bar erupted into laughter and Emily high fived Georgia. “Don’t worry about him, or his little cheerleader slut. Yes, she’s got a perfect arse, and yes, her legs are longer than a giraffes, but just about everyone on the rugby team has had a go on her.”
“And the rest!” Georgia added merrily.
“Is he looking?” Amy called in a shy voice from under the table.
“No you’re safe. Besides, after what that bastard did to you he deserves it. Trying to pass you round like a cum bucket, what a tool.”
Amy cautiously peered over the table. The coast was clear. And more importantly, Dr. Mitchell was still deep in conversation with his colleague and seemed not to have noticed Emily’s outburst.
“Seriously, as if he thought you would want his scabby mates to join in – ” Emily yelped as Georgia kicked her under the table and she finally noticed the dangerous glare in Amy’s eyes. Amy did not want to think about that night at the house party. Instead, she downed her glass of wine.
“You’re right, fuck him.” Amy declared, as she poured another large glass of wine.
Amy, Georgia, and Emily stumbled onto the number 19 bus. It was teaming with drunken students on their way to Chelsea to continue onto the bars. Friday night and submitted essays made for the perfect storm on the number 19.
It was unusual for Amy to be the worst for wear of the three, but Emily had to catch her by the arm as she tripped over the step. Amy’s head was spinning – the press of people and loud, rowdy voices disorientated her. It would be so lovely to have the professor’s strong arm shielding her from the crush, to rest her woozy head on his tight chest. All she had was Emily, already flirting with some guy she vaguely recognized from Medieval poetry, and Georgia who seemed to be nodding off where she stood.
“Come on girls, let’s go upstairs,” Amy said, tugging on Georgia’s hand.
“I think we’re fine here, babe.” Emily said without taking her eyes off the guy drooling over her.
Amy tried to subtly lean close to Emily but her legs felt like jelly and she bumped heavily into her shoulder. “Dr. Mitchell sits upstairs, you know. Maybe he’s on the bus…”
Not another word was needed. Emily was leading the charge up the stairs, fearlessly shoving tipsy students out of the way. The girls got to the top but the bus was totally crammed. Amy swayed on her tiptoes, trying desperately to see over the shoulders to the professor’s usual seat.
“Out of my way, douchebag.” Amy pushed the head of a slurring first year out of the way. Georgia and Emily shared a look: they knew that the combination of Amy’s obsession with ümraniye escort her professor and a bottle of sauvignon was a dangerous mix. But after the damage Tom had done to her it was good to see their friend back to her old self again.
Finally Amy got a clear view of the seat…and there he was. She spun around to her friend. Big mistake, her head reeled.
“He’s here. Oh my god. How do I look?”
“You look hot, go speak to him.” Emily said, already scouting the deck for her next prey.
“Are you mad?! Speak to him? You’re fucking mad.” Amy was babbling. Any confidence the wine had given her was quickly slipping away. But the crush of people coming up the stairs was pushing the girls ever closer to the professor. Amy wasn’t sure how, but suddenly she was right next to him and unable to move away. Amy stared down at the professor, oblivious to anyone else. From her position above him she could see down his slightly parted shirt to his chest. It was lightly covered with dark hairs and looked firm as it pressed against his tight, white shirt. So much manlier than that Tom’s, the prick. He was like a child in comparison. Again Amy imagined resting her head on it, undoing his buttons, kissing his tanned skin, his nipples. Amy was in a daze and getting aroused.
“Shit, just the thought of him is getting me wet.” It was at that moment that Dr. Mitchell’s head turned and he came to face with the skinny, black jeans covering Amy’s crotch. Amy flushed with embarrassment.
“Umm, hi professor!” She stammered a bit too loudly.
Dr. Mitchell looked up. Amy stared at his deep green eyes behind the horn-rimmed glasses, eyes she had so often lost herself in during his lectures.
“Hey, Amy.” He replied, and turned away. Amy was crestfallen and turned around as best she could in the crowd. Georgia and Emily were looking at her in disbelief.
“Talk to him!” Emily hissed, and before Amy knew it, Emily had pushed her backwards. Unfortunately the tight conditions and the wine conspired against Amy and she fell straight onto the professor’s lap. Amy was horrified and attempted to leap back up. Amy put a hand behind her in a bid to help herself up, but she misjudged it and she grabbed ahold of the professor’s leg. Amy froze. Dr. Mitchell was looking at her with complete shock. It wasn’t just his leg that Amy could feel. There was the unmistakable shape of a penis in her grip. Amy quickly removed her hand.
“Are you ok, Amy?” the professor asked with a look of genuine concern.
“Y..Y..Yes. Oh gosh I’m so sorry Dr. Mitchell.”
“It’s fine, honestly. But you should probably get up…”
Amy bolted up but the space where she had been had already filled with students. Emily’s head appeared over a shoulder and she mouthed a “sorry” to Amy, before winking. Amy bounced back onto the professor’s lap.
“I’m sorry professor, it looks like I’m stuck.” Amy said, as her cheeks grew redder.
“It’s ok, Amy. But you should probably call me Charlie. Given the circumstances I’d say we are on first name terms.” Dr. Mitchell said casually, but the glow in his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment too.
Amy could not believe the situation she was in. Sat sideways across the professor’s legs, her butt was sat square on his groin. Even more astonishingly Amy was actually talking to him! She grew in confidence as they chatted about their evenings and plans for the weekend. As the journey progressed she became more aware of something pressing against her arse. “Surely it can’t be… no it’s probably just his phone or something.” Amy thought. As Amy squirmed to get comfortable the kartal escort bayan shape got firmer and bigger. The professor averted his gaze and conversation ran dry.
“Holy shit,” Amy thought, “his dick is touching my arse.” With the alcohol haze and din of the bus it felt like a dream. But butterflies in her stomach sure felt real. And the dampness in her panties was definitely real.
As the bus rolled down Kings Road Amy sat paralyised with indecision. If she shifted to move off of his penis he might think she was trying to tease him. But if she stayed still, well, he might think she was enjoying his stiff dick pressed against her. Which she was. And from how erect he was Amy knew that he clearly he enjoyed it too. So Amy didn’t move and didn’t say a thing.
Amy had decided to ride it out until her stop, treasuring every second. Amy couldn’t wait to get herself off when she got home; it wouldn’t take long with the memory of the smooth ridge in his trousers. It was then that the bus went over a speed bump and Amy was jolted into the air. She bounced back heavily on the professor’s lap. The professor grunted and Amy couldn’t help but whimper when she landed squarely against the head of his erect penis. Even through his trousers and Amy’s jeans she could feel it spreading her wet vagina and settling between her folds.
They locked eyes again – there was no pretending that they hadn’t felt it. Both were too shocked to speak. They simply stared. As Amy looked into his green eyes she was gripped with recklessness: she would never have this opportunity again. The bustle of the crowd clouded her thoughts and the alcohol was making her head light. While holding the professors gaze, Amy gently began to rock. She started gradually, barely moving at all. Dr. Mitchell’s eyes widened, but he stayed silent. Encouraged, Amy gyrated her hips and forced his head deep between her folds and against her sensitive clit. She gasped again and was thankful for the chaos on the bus that masked the sound.
Dr. Mitchell closed his eyes and took a deep breath: whether in pleasure or anger Amy could not tell. But she too deep in her desire to stop. Her vagina was hot and wet; she desperately wanted to fill it with his thick, hard dick. From the size of his head she could tell it would stretch her, would scratch the itch she so needed scratching.
Amy was getting close. Her breath was coming in short gasps. She could feel her vagina clenching. A thought flashed through her mind that almost stopped her: what if she squirted? Normally it only happened when she was penetrated, but she was never normally this turned on. It was too late; Amy was too close to care. Her legs were twitching and she was bucking against the professor’s dick. If anyone looked they would know for sure what Amy was doing, but thankfully the bus was too tightly packed.
Amy could feel the crescendo approaching. She raised her hand and placed it delicately against Dr. Mitchell’s chest, the chest she had fantasied about touching all semester. Amy could feel the heat on her palm even through the shirt and his hair felt coarse where it touched her bare fingertips. The professor’s eyes snapped open and once again they locked with Amy’s. It was all Amy needed and she came hard on his penis as they stared at each other. Her lips trembled and her chest fluttered. His eyes glanced down at her heaving breasts as Amy basked in the pulsing waves of her climax. To know that he was checking her out, that he could feel her vagina pulsing against him, it was too much to bear.
“Amy! Amy it’s our stop!” Suddenly Georgia was standing in front of her. Without looking down Georgia grabbed Amy’s arm and dragged her up. Before she knew it Amy was sprawling down the bus stairs yet still twitching as her waves of her orgasm rolled through her. Amy looked up desperately but the professor was already lost from sight in the crowd.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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