Fucked in the Alleyway
I used to go regularly to post an ad for my services. I set aside the day when there were the fewest clients and went during off-peak hours to avoid the crowds on the bus. But I always had to leave on time so that everything would run smoothly and I wouldn’t have to wait around unnecessarily. It was a completely routine, ordinary task—one from which I wouldn’t have expected any extraordinary experience. After my morning hygiene routine and beauty regimen, I got dressed and, glancing at my watch, realized I still had time for a quick cup of coffee before heading out. “Okay, just don’t forget to pack everything I need,” I thought to myself, “and then I’m good to go.” But as I was picking up my purse from the table, the strap caught on the mug and knocked it over. It wasn’t full anymore, but some of it splashed onto my skirt. “Great! Now I have to change,” I thought irritably, and started to panic a little because I needed to get going. I walked over to the closet, grabbed another skirt, changed, and headed out.
It wasn’t until I got to the bus stop that I realized I’d accidentally put on my work skirt instead of my casual one in my rush, because my butt was unusually exposed and the hem of my pantyhose was peeking out. “I can handle it for a little while,” I told myself, trying to pull it down a bit, just as the bus pulled up. Everything worked out just in time. I got on through the back door and spotted a solitary empty seat so I could treat myself to some comfort. The sun was already shining beautifully through the window, so I spread my legs slightly, pulled up my mini-skirt, and let its rays caress me. And why not? No one could see me from any angle, so I wasn’t offending anyone. This idyll was interrupted at the next stop by a middle-aged man who, even though there was plenty of room everywhere, sat down right across from me. Instinctively, I pressed my thighs together, pulled my skirt up to my knees, and discreetly tried to get a better look at him to see if he might be someone I knew—since he’d chosen a seat right next to me—but his face didn’t ring a bell. “So it must be a coincidence,” I thought to myself, and stopped paying attention to him. The same couldn’t be said for him, though, since he stretched his legs under my seat and started rubbing against my leg. I flinched and shifted closer to the window. That obviously didn’t bother him, and he shifted as well, just to stay in contact with my leg. I considered moving to another seat, but it was almost time to get off, so there was no point. I’m used to this kind of eccentric behavior, but under different circumstances. He was staring at me intently, his gaze traveling from my waist down to my pumps, but he was most drawn to my shiny pantyhose and the gap under my mini-skirt, which I blocked from his view with my purse. I felt like I was naked in a store window. To my surprise, I noticed my nipples hardening under my blouse, and since I wasn’t wearing a bra, it was impossible to miss. I couldn’t quite understand what could have aroused me so suddenly, since I’d been feeling rather irritable, and the feeling was only intensifying. “Calm down, slut,” I told myself, trying to count the cars passing by to take my mind off things. It seemed to be working, when suddenly that asshole spoke up and I started getting turned on. All of a sudden, I stopped seeing his intrusiveness as an annoying nuisance and finally relaxed. I realized I’d be getting off at the next stop and should slowly make my way to the door. So I asked my “dear” intruder to give me some space and got ready to stand up. As I did, my skirt rode up, revealing the top of my pantyhose, which immediately caught his attention, and his lecherous gaze tried to penetrate right between my legs. He smiled, willingly made way for me, and let me pass without a fuss. Unfortunately, I had to step sideways into the aisle, so he probably caught a glimpse of what his eyes were craving beneath my skirt. Just to be safe, I glanced back, worried he might follow me, but he remained seated, merely watching me from the bus window and smiling again. I turned my head away and made my way toward the classifieds section.
I have to admit that I didn’t feel comfortable around him, even though nothing really terrible was happening. All sorts of thoughts were racing through my head, especially memories from my college days when I used to tease guys like that and they’d tease me back. At the same time, a few particularly naughty experiences came to mind, which turned me on so much that I felt an unnatural wetness down there. “Why didn’t I wear panties, you idiot?” flashed through my mind. “Now I have to find a place to wipe myself off, or this is going to be a real embarrassment.” And I already knew where to go. You get to the classifieds section through a passageway, and beyond it is a dark courtyard where I’d have peace and privacy. When I’d finally taken care of everything I needed to, I walked through the passageway into the courtyard and looked around awkwardly to see if anyone happened to be keeping me company there. It wasn’t exactly a welcoming place, but it was apparently quite popular, since used condoms and other “trophies” were scattered all over the floor. I picked out the darkest spot, stood with my back to the wall, pulled a tissue out of my purse, lifted the front of my skirt, and reached between my legs. I was nice and wet! A clear trickle of love juice was already flowing relentlessly over my labia majora, and if I’d been forced to sit down somewhere, it would have left a sizeable stain on my skirt. I squatted down and began running the tissue between my labia, wiping around them, thinking that as soon as I got back, I’d ravage my vibrator.
Lost in this delightful daydream, with a damp handkerchief in my palm, I suddenly snapped back to reality when I spotted the shadow of a standing figure on the wall. I got a start, let go of my skirt, and wanted to make a quick getaway, but my curiosity got the better of me; I turned my head and saw a fellow passenger from the bus standing there calmly. “Where did he come from? How did he find me?” All sorts of questions raced through my head. I felt hot and cold at the same time. Before I could react in any way, he stepped up to me and began brazenly groping my butt and reaching up from behind under my mini-skirt, continuing to satisfy the desires he’d had on the bus. I wanted to break free and walk away, but my legs absolutely refused to obey me. I stood there as if glued to the ground, unable to move or even utter a sound from the shock! I’d never experienced anything like this before, so for the time being, I had no choice but to stand there passively and wait to see what would happen next. Fortunately, he showed no signs of violence or brutality—he was just groping me. He was most impressed by my thighs and the tops of my pantyhose, which he kept tugging at. Just then, I heard the sound of a zipper, making it clear that this wasn’t going to end with just groping. He pulled out his dick and started jerking off against me. He rubbed it against my ass, between my cheeks, and against the pantyhose from below, but apparently he wasn’t very hard. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand, pressed me against the wall of the house, and lifted my skirt all the way up so that my whole ass was exposed. That must have turned him on, and he started fucking me between my thighs, which wasn’t very smart because I really had to pee, and with all that movement, I was having a hard time holding it in. I tried to stay pressed against the wall without moving, hoping his obscene antics would end soon. I wondered whether to help things along somehow or just passively endure it. I decided on the latter and tried to spread my legs slightly apart, signaling to him that I’d be compliant with his needs and hopefully prevent any potential violence that way. It worked! My legs were obeying me again, so I wondered if I should take advantage of that and retreat. “No! I’d rather not take any chances and just let things take their course,” I told myself definitively. But so as not to leave everything completely up to chance, I fumbled in the small pocket of my purse with my other hand to pull out a condom, just in case he wanted to go all the way. And if it were to come to that, then without any unnecessary hassle. But for now, he continued to pleasure himself between my thighs, occasionally sliding it under my pantyhose or stroking me along them. I could tell it was really turning him on, because he was rubbing himself more and more intensely. I pressed my thighs together to give him as much friction as possible, but unfortunately, he was getting wet against my labia. My pussy treated it like sex and kept getting wet, even though it didn’t turn me on. It was the first time in my life I didn’t want it to be wet. He was so close to coming inside me. I discreetly tore open the condom wrapper with my teeth, pulled it out with the tip of my tongue, and held it ready in my mouth. But it was already too late. Suddenly he stopped, grabbed the hem of my pantyhose, and came all over my thigh. He rubbed himself against me for a moment longer, then half-pulled down my skirt and disappeared without a word.
After being raped without resistance, I stood there as if frozen, a handkerchief in one hand, the condom wrapper in the other, completely oblivious to the world around me. I straightened up, spat the condom into my palm, and tossed it, along with the wrapper, into my purse. The cooling cum slowly seeped into my pantyhose, creating a huge wet stain across the entire inner and back sides of my thigh. It took me a while longer to come to my senses, and I looked around grumpily to see if anyone had seen us. Apparently, everything had happened quietly and without witnesses, so there was no point in worrying about it—which I was glad about. From other people’s perspective, it would have looked like horny lovers getting it on or a pimp relieving himself with a hooker. Now a little calmer and more relaxed, I finally peed, wiped up as best I could, and, filled with mixed emotions, set off on the way back with unsteady steps. I had a constant urge to look around to see if he was still watching me from somewhere, and I tried to run into as few people as possible. I knew that once the stains on my skirt and pantyhose dried, it would be a huge embarrassment. Adding to that was the picking-up wind, which playfully blew under my skirt and hinted that something was coming, as the sky began to cloud over. Fortunately, the bus stop wasn’t far away and had a shelter.
When I got back, I sat down, put my feet up on the table, and had a good-sized shot. It wasn’t until my mind had numbed and calmed down that I began to go over everything from the beginning and came to the conclusion that it couldn’t have been a coincidence. He knew exactly which bus I took and where I was going, so he must have been following me for some time. The only coincidence was that I had gone into that courtyard, where I’d never been before, and he didn’t hesitate to take advantage of it. Even though I didn’t change my routine and continued to take the same bus at the same time, I never ran into him again. “Well, it could have turned out much worse!” I thought to myself, and with that thought, I went to soak in a tub full of bubbles. I was just disappointed that my arousal and desire to come had completely faded, even though I tried to drown out that experience with more naughty memories. One thing is certain. I need to pay more attention to what’s going on around me, avoid sitting alone on the bus, and I should probably start carrying a pair of panties, at least in my purse.
