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It wasn't anywhere near a 'few hours' that I found myself ringing the
door bell at Debi's. I was at there door-step within the hour since
talking to her over the phone. It was the middle of the day and the
streets were not as crowded. The bus was packed, however, and, save the
occasional gusts through the open windows, the humid summer air inside was
almost unbreathable. I was hot and so was the bus. Before the seat in
front of me was vacated and I could grab it, I had to endure the poking of
a hard member from behind.

A man, standing right behind me, took advantage of the crowded bus and
made little effort to move his swelling manhood away from my buttocks. He
was wearing a dhoti* and panjabi**, and there was little between my dress
and his cock. I was hot enough to not mind and actually enjoyed the
feeling of the hard thing between the crease of my buttocks; especially
when I sensed that he was looking over my neck and straight into my blouse.
Over the past several months, I had developed from a nondescript teen into
a shapely one. Regular sex and associated foreplay had helped me develop
into a young lady. Although I never flaunted my obvious prides, their
shapeliness attracted second looks which I enjoyed.

So, the man standing behind me was not helping his condition by getting
a deeper look down my blouse. I arranged my sari, as if oblivious to his
stare, so that a little more of the open, rounded, neck of my blouse was
exposed. And I felt his member throb a few times. He started to take
advantage of the bumpy ride through the streets and I almost sensed his
urgency. That had to wait. The seat in front of me came vacant and I,
somewhat reluctantly, slid into it.

I wish I had not. The man was in his fifties and had scraggly beard all
over his face. He did not even try to hide his excitement; and I could see
it pushing up the bunched up fabric of his dhoti. He was wearing the
Indian version of boxers under his dhoti, which help little in concealing
such states. I wished I had not seen his face, for it immediately dampened
my arousal - the arousal that I had been saving for Debi. I wished my
fantasy about a hard cock of a handsome man against my buttocks were left
intact. I shifted my eyes to his groin area. Through my sunglasses, I
kept staring at the sign of his arousal. For the rest of the commute, I
tried to imagine a handsome man as its owner. And that kept me from
getting to Debi with a dry cunt.

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