Espied Pt. 06

"You OK, Sal?" The man put his arm again around her.

As they approach the main road, Sal felt she was rather, and rapidly, losing all semblance of control. She was much more excited than she would have expected so early in a walk. She looked down and realised that whilst her bottom cheeks might be well covered the same could not be said for her patch of fur and below she could see wet, unfurled sex-lips peeking -- and they were not wet from the mist. The dampness she could feel on the corduroy as she put her hands in the pockets to push the coat's edges together, was from the mist: the dampness between her thighs was quite different. The edges of the corduroy jacket almost covered her sex from view, but she found herself rubbing the edges against herself, pulling on the skin and it in turn pulling at her clit. Lovely intense feelings and, with barely yards to the road and the flashing headlights, she found she could not help it -- could not stop the impending orgasm.

Sal came there in the green lane, crying out and stumbling. Her neighbour who had had his arm around her back to keep her moving, turned to her and pushed his other hand down, forcing it easily through her slippery thighs to grab her pulsating sex, actually holding her up by his hand there as Sal sagged downwards. Her whole body racked by electric and sexual sensation, whilst she could feel herself suddenly so very wet, perhaps even her liquidity trickling through her neighbour's fingers as he held her.

Never before had a man held her like that -- he had her sex in the palm of his hand, soft, pliable and no doubt very wet. He had not, though, raised a digit, had not inserted himself into her, was not even directly tickling her clit: but his hand was very much there supporting her, holding her up..

Sal felt her legs coming back to her. "Thanks," she said, raising herself up off his hand. It did not follow her, it did not stay clamped to her sex and was withdrawn. She looked at the hand. It was, indeed, very wet and she knew what with. "Oh," she said, "your hand is all wet."

A very large lorry roared by as her neighbour raised his hand up to first his face and then her own. The scent of aroused woman was there, and he touched her lips with his hand, "Lick," he said.

Sal had settled into doing what she was told. She licked and wondered as she tasted herself had her neighbour been naked and rather than cupping her sex had made himself come into his hand whether she would as easily have licked his semen from it. She rather knew she would.

"Do you want to...?"

The man looked at her.

"Do you want me to... shall I make you come... would you like me to wank you?"

"Of course -- but we have a bus to catch. Come on, run!"

The bus stop was but twenty-five yards down the road and he pulled her along by the hand -- running. Sal wondered whether the flap of the jacket was flapping up and down giving passing motorists a view of her naked buttocks. Her neighbour had seen the bus coming and waved it down. Sal had not time to think as she was pulled through the opening doors. She had no money, but her neighbour did. The bus driver did not really look at her neighbour, but he certainly looked at Sal. The bus was a double-decker bus and virtually empty, no doubt because of the early hour, empty except for one man sitting near the stairs going up to the upper level. Sal did not know but certainly wondered if he watched them ascend. Again, that strange thrill. He would have seen up inside her neighbour's corduroy jacket to where it was very much not her neighbour. The man would have had an eyeful of not just pudenda but wet, fleshy, engorged pudenda.

There was no one upstairs and Sal let go of the sides of her jacket. She had not held them whilst running but had most certainly held them together as she got on the bus. It was only as she sat down in one of the front seats and felt the coarse material on her bottom did she remember the driver had a periscope view of the upper deck. It was only after they had seated themselves did the bus start. Sal was sure the driver had been watching them -- or rather her. Another man had seen more than he should have. He would have seen her furry patch between the two leaves of the jacket, framed by green corduroy. Perhaps the bus was now being driven by a man with an erection.

It was early, but not that early. Sal looked out at the increasingly light world as they passed another bus stop and then another without stopping but then they started to stop at every bus stop to let people get on. She could hear people climbing the stairs and sitting behind her, people no doubt safely dressed: not like her in just a corduroy jacket.

Her neighbour had reached, shortly after the bus had first started, not to touch her intimately, just to pat her knees apart. He had then taken her hand and moved her fingers folding the little finger under her thumb and leaving the other three together. He had then very carefully pushed those fingers up into herself. Apart from her knees and hand he did not touch her but there she was on the bus with fingers stuffed into her vagina.

"Off you go," he said, "make yourself come again."

And she had found herself again complying with his wishes -- and he had not let her take her hand away even as people got on the bus. It was inevitable someone would sit in the other front seats. They were always the most popular seats on a double decker bus, perhaps because of the view out of the front window. Two schoolgirls talking nine to the dozen plonked themselves down. It was early for school, perhaps they were keen sixth formers anxious to get good grades at 'A' level so they could go to a good university. Identically dressed in maroon gingham cotton dresses but with similarly maroon blazers over. A school still with a strict dress code even into sixth form. Sal knew the school, knew it was like that: or certainly had been when she had been there. She had worn similar clothes on that very bus though she would never have dared sit in the front seat. There had been a pecking order of girls. She had not been at the top.

Sal did not know the girls. They did not know her and did not, at first, notice her -- not at first. Their giggles, their pointing and their whispered conversation gave so much away. Her neighbour was so clearly aware despite looking straight ahead out of the window. He grabbed her wrist when she attempted to extract her fingers and only released it when she stopped pulling.

Sal had to keep masturbating whilst both her neighbour, from the corner of his eye, and the two schoolgirls watched. Worse, and not completely to her surprise, the fact of watching strangers, even girls, excited her -- excited her too much. The girls would have seen her hand moving faster and harder, perhaps caught glimpses of exposed curls through the rather open jacket. She was almost coming and then, to make things worse, her neighbour reached and undid the buttons of her jacket. It was too much. The now freed lapels moved with her, brushing her hard and exposed nipples. It was too much stimulation. Sal came, making little whimpering noises. The people behind must have wondered what was happening. The school girls knew exactly. They were staring at Sal.

Sal withdrew her fingers from her so sensitive sex but again the man reached for her wrist and lifted her hand up. Her fingers were still bunched and upon them and upon her hand, Sal's sexual lubrication not simply wet but glutinous in the way she could be when excited. The man held her hand up and then turned to the girls. Perhaps he raised his eyebrows. Sal could not see, perhaps he offered it to the girls, certainly she felt his lips and tongue on her fingers. Their wide-eyed look of astonishment from the girls was worthy of a photograph, but her camera was in her neighbour's bag.

Again, he made her suck her own fingers. She glanced at the girls with her fingers in her mouth and their eyes met. What were they thinking? Would they talk about it later -- probably -- what would they make of it? Sal's sexuality was expanding. Had it expanded their view of what people did? Almost certainly. Might one or other of the girls imagine what it would be like to be exposed like Sal. Sitting there naked whilst her neighbour looked at them with obvious enjoyment. Of course, they would know about sex and their own bodies. Perhaps the night before each had lain in her own bed and played at that space between thighs. Maybe like Sal they had sucked her own wet fingers. What people did in private was a secret to them. The most respectable, the most normal seeming people might have very unusual desires and practices. Few, though, would have done what Sal had just done and shown themselves like that to complete strangers.

The bus emptied at the terminus and Sal, with her corduroy jacket again tightly buttoned and lapels held close together followed her neighbour back up the bus and down the stairs. The man who had first been sitting there when she had got on was still sitting seemingly in no hurry to get off. Sal was sure she knew the reason. There was no way she could hide his view up her jacket as she came down the stairs even keeping close to her neighbour. Again, Sal was exposed.

The bus terminus was almost deserted, the passengers from the bus hurrying their various ways but the two girls looking back. From his bag her neighbour produced a pair of high heeled shoes.

"I don't wear..."

But already he was unstrapping her sandals. The high heels fitted but were not comfortable. The heels clacked on the pavement in the quiet of the terminus as they left it and walked slowly, and in Sal's case with difficulty, into the shopping precinct. It was almost deserted - but not quite empty -- the hour was early. Shopkeepers, preparing to open up, gawked at her; their eyes travelling up and down her bare legs wobbling on high heels; the swell of her breasts between the lapels of her jacket revealed and a-jiggle as she walked leaning on the man with her for support.

The feeling of arousal which had stayed on the bus had not disappeared -- not one bit and the rub, rub of the corduroy on her nipples did nothing to lessen it. Sal tried again holding the lapels but was not sure that did not open her jacket below rather wider and show she had nothing beneath, revealing her curls to shopkeepers and the occasional pedestrian if they were minded to look at that early hour. Sal felt constantly upon the edge of orgasm; her face, she was sure, was flame red with embarrassment and arousal. She wanted to touch herself again, but it was not the place at all, not one bit of it and her neighbour clearly had a purpose in mind. It seemed clear he would not let her stop and do something about her dripping sex. She was sure, if she looked behind her, she would see she had left a trail of drips upon the pavement! Sal was not going in a direction of her own volition, but of her neighbour. The high heels were difficult. She was so unused to them and the way they made her walk. She did not dare not let go of her neighbour for fear of falling over.

Eventually, and it seemed like that to Sal, they paused at a rather unassuming door in the blank wall to the rear of a building. They had slipped through an alleyway into what seemed a service area. It was deserted but for a single rather fine car, a Jaguar. There was no one in it, indeed no one in the whole area.

"Could I have my jacket back?"

"I..." Sal looked around. There really was nobody there but, as she did as she was told, she was conscious that whilst the yard might be empty that did not mean there might not be faces at the windows of all the buildings surrounding the small courtyard. Unseen eyes might be watching. Again, she shivered as she looked down at her completely revealed self. Naked but for a pair of high heels shoes, naked with perky erect nipples, naked with wet thighs.

Her neighbour slipped on the jacket, fished in a pocket and pulled out a key. Sal watched as he unlocked the door, her thoughts suddenly rushing at her. What was through the door, where and to what was he taking her?

Sal had the sudden and terrible thought he was taking her to audition as a stripper or a waitress at some seedy club where she would wear a fox's mask, a busy tail and nothing else whilst she served drinks and her body was examined by strangers.

He ushered her through the door.