It's Our Stop

Most days I catch the bus to work and home again.  I wear my sunglasseses religiously.  I have multiple pair of sunglasses but my favourites are a pair of Rayban Aviators with mirror lenses.  They let me watch people.  Anyone and everyone really.  So I guess you could say I like sunglasses for the same reason an old pervert does, or a teenage boy.  I get off on looking at other people, women especially.  Some take my breath away. 

Breasts.  I love them.  I watch as each woman enters the bus and walks down the aisle, looking for a seat.  I assess her breasts, and if they are big enough, and lush enough, I imagine my head buried between them, my mouth on their nipple, sucking tenderly, biting, licking.  I imagine this every time I am on the bus. 

Coming home one day I wore my reading glasses instead of my sunglasses.  I was in a rush to leave work and forgot to switch them with my sunglasses.  The thing is, once they are on my face they just feel like glasses.  Like sunglasses.  So this day, as I watched each person get on, watched the way they moved and the way they searched frantically for somewhere to sit – looking for the right seat – I did not realise they could see me, see my eyes undressing them, devouring them.  First the blonde with the viola, who looks kind of geeky but secretly slutty.  I like her breasts.  She’s tall and quite solid.  She looks strong.  Then the older woman who wears those quirky red reading glasses.  She always sits near the front so I never get a good look at her, but I like her style.  Then goth girl gets on next, always in her cherry red 18 hole Docs.  Always with some tattered fishnets and a tartan skirt.  I like to watch her.  I like her attitude.  This day someone new gets on.  The bus is quite full but the seat beside me is spare.  I see her and gasp. Already I gasp and I haven’t even had time to examine her.  Closely cropped blonde hair, a small tight t-shirt that shows me a set of beautiful round breasts that I immediately want to touch, jeans and a pair of black Chucks.  I sit there watching her make her way down to the back of the bus.  She's short, she has curves and those breasts - heavenly.  I am thankful for my mirror lenses that I think I am wearing because I can’t take my eyes off her.  She approaches, my eyes on her breasts and the breath caught in my throat.  She turns and sits beside me.  I break my gaze and stare forward.  I sit so still in my seat, my skin feeling electric.  My breath comes in quiet, shortened pants as I try to contain myself.  I take off my glasses briefly and discover for myself that they are not my sunglasses but my reading glasses.  I let out a half gasp half laugh as I realise I have ogled the person sitting beside me and she has seen me do it, felt my eyes on her.  I steal a quick glance at her and she is already looking at me.  She has clear blue eyes which immediately catch my own.  I blush, colour rising to my cheeks.  She leans into me a little and whispers almost inaudibly, “I saw you watching me.”  I mutter “Oh” under my breath, wondering whether to apologise and hoping the earth will swallow me up on the spot.  She leans in again, whispering, “I liked it.”  “Oh” I say again, this time a little louder.  I am dumbstruck, turned on, embarrassed, excited, shy, all at once.  She drops her left hand in between us and strokes the side of my leg.  I jerk like I’ve been hit by a jolt of electricity.  She pushes the button, a few stops before mine.  My mind is racing, I’m barely containing my desire.  She leans in one last time as the bus pulls up and whispers, “It’s our stop.  Let’s go.”