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The bus is crowded during rush hour, and you get pushed toward the back, standing in the aisle, held up by the bodies pressed against you. You only wore a flimsy little cotton sundress that day because of the heat, but now you’re starting to wish you had a little more clothing on. The heat wave in this city has lasted so long, you think people might be getting a little crazy, yourself included.

You imagine the people around you leering down at you, but was it just your imagination? No, that guy off to your left is definitely letting his gaze linger on your body for longer than seems polite. You glance down toward where his gaze is directed and realize that your dress has dampened from your sweat and that of the people around you, and is clinging to you lewdly. You feel yourself blush, not just on your face, but all the way down your chest, and you catch the leering man smirking at your embarrassment.

You look away, but it seems everywhere you look, your gaze is met with more staring and smirking. You realize you are completely surrounded by men, and none of them seem disinterested in you and your little dress. You feel a hand move gently up your thigh, timidly at first. You try to move, but you are trapped in the crush of bodies, listening to the bus driver tell people to move back so more people can get on the bus. The hand on your thigh gets bolder as it moves closer to your little cotton panties, caressing your ass through the material as you realize you can feel the familiar tingle of your own arousal.

You blush again and silently curse your body for reacting this way. You should be struggling harder to move, calling out this bastard for taking liberties, pushing your way out of the circle of guys holding you in place, but you don’t. His hand on you feels so nice; you’re six months into a period of self-imposed celibacy after your last relationship ended, and no one has touched you intimately in all that time. You haven’t even masturbated in — a month? two? How long has it been since you’ve even thought of sex? Now here you are getting turned on by the caress of a stranger on the bus, and you can’t even turn around to see who it is. Without realizing consciously what you’re doing, you spread your legs apart a bit and breathe out in relief as the hand moves down to your pussy. After a few strokes of your lips through your underwear, you hear a soft chuckle in your ear and a voice say “Soaked through.”

The hand slips inside your panties to caress your moist slit, and you breathe in sharply and close your eyes as a finger slides inside you. The energy around you changes as the men notices something’s up. More hands find their way onto your body, sliding under your dress, caressing your skin, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples. You’re not even sure how your panties have been removed, but now more hands are fighting for real estate on your ass and pussy, and a second finger, from a different hand, is inside you. You are dripping wet now, the insides of your thighs slick with moisture, and you still can’t believe you are not only letting this happen, but loving it. Maybe the heat *has* driven you insane.

Your eyes still closed, you let out a little moan and reach down to rub your clit. You again feel a change in the mood around you, as the men realize you are willingly participating and want to come. You hear a zipper behind you and feel an erection pressed against you. The voice belonging to the man who was first groping you murmurs “do you want this?” in your ear and you nod, unable to find your voice. A small skirmish occurs around the entrance to your pussy as hands are pushed aside, fingers pulled out and replaced by his cock. You shut down the part of your mind that can’t believe you are being fucked by someone you haven’t even seen on a crowded bus in broad daylight and meet his thrusts with yours. He reaches around you and takes over rubbing your clit until you come, biting your lip and trying not to attract too much attention outside your little circle of admirers. The feel of your pulsating orgasm on his cock sends him over the edge, and he groans softly as he thrusts up deeper inside you, and you can feel the throb of him coming, the hot squirt of come inside you.

He pulls out and you feel another hard cock probing at your entrance. You open your eyes and a man in front of you has a look of pure lust on his face, and you figure why stop now? You position yourself for easier entrance, and he eagerly thrusts into you. He’s a little too tall, though, and the positioning isn’t working well until he picks you up and you wrap your legs around him, find a rhythm. You can feel the come from the first guy dripping out of you down your ass, and the tickle of it, the thought of how dirty you are right now turns you on even more. A hand on your ass moves down to your pussy to get some wetness, then starts rubbing your asshole, tentatively at first, then pushing inside your anus, first one finger, then two as you relax your muscles. You haven’t had assplay in so long, you had almost forgotten how good it feels, but now all of your nerve endings are screaming at the stimulation and you come again, and before long there’s a cock in your ass, too.

You feel so full, your holes stuffed by two cocks, and you’re almost sad when the guy in your pussy comes and withdraws. You want more and you gasp out a barely coherent statement to that effect, but it was hardly necessary because the guy in your ass has already wrapped his arms around you and supports you with the help of the crowd while another guy steps in to take his place in your pussy. At some point you realize you’ve lost count of how many men have come in and on you. The bus is clearing out a little as people get off, and the passengers are shifting so that the back of the bus is only filled with people who want to fuck you, while the others have retreated in disgust, shaking their heads, because there’s no way to hide what’s happening at this point. You know you’ve missed your stop, but you don’t care. After the drought you are gorging on cock, and you realize with shame and excitement that you love feeling used like a dirty slut, a cum dumpster who exists only for other people’s pleasure. No one cares if you come, not after that first groper, but you come anyway, over and over, from the pleasure of pleasing people and the shame of being exposed so publicly.

The bus empties more and the circle of men around you shrinks as people go home for dinner, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened, but you’ve been forever changed by this chance groping on the bus. When everyone has had their fun and left, you are left alone, exhausted by pleasure, slumped in a pool of semen on a seat in the back. The bus stops and the driver comes to the back. “That was quite a show you put on,” he says. “The other guys are gonna be so glad we have cameras on the bus.” You blush yet again, and laugh at yourself a little for being such a prude now. Who cares? Those cameras aren’t good enough for anyone to recognize you. You shrug and tell him you’re glad he enjoyed it. He offers you a ride home, and you thank him with a quick blowjob before walking up to your apartment, glad for the cover of dusk as come drips down your legs and you idly wonder whatever happened to your underwear.

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