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The funny people. (Fm)

sylas12 · 1872

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Offline sylas12

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on: September 27, 2020, 07:51:00 AM
This is a work of fiction. The author does not condone any sexual activity among persons under 18 in real life.

Even after all these years I still remember it very well. My journey into town on a Saturday morning. The number of the bus, the time I used to get on, the people on it. I used to make up nick names for each of them, derogatory names a 13 year old boy seems to have an abundance of, floating around his adolescent mind. All of them except one, fact is I never knew her name. But I'll never forget her and what she did.

The year is1987, mid August. Big summer holidays are here, 6 glorious weeks of freedom from school.
My name is darren and I became 13 in may. My routine of the past fortnight has been riding the big double decker number 150 from our small village into the city of doncaster in south yorkshire to meet my best friend glen.
I had to do verbal battle with my over protective mum to win this quite big victory, doncaster is a big place for a young lad and I could easily get lost was her main point but also there were 'funny' people lurking around.
Her term for weirdos or pervs.
In the end with my persistence and dad's help she relented.
It was my 3rd time out, a glorious warm summer's morning. Stepping off the 150 into bustling doncaster station, glen is waiting for me, an excited grin on his face.
We say our hello's and head off, soon lost to sight in a sea of people.

Glen has exciting news for me, he has recently found his older brother's stash of 'nuddy books' our term for porn magazines. He's been after them for some time but said brother was always one step ahead until now.
Later in the afternoon I can go round and have a look if I want?
My reply involves a reference to a bears toileting habit's.

We spend that morning hastily getting rid of our spending money buying crap we don't need, things that seem so important at the time like panini stickers for our sticker albums.
Part of our fun morning is of course eyeing up all the young girls and ladies. It's a little embarrassing sometimes because glen is partially deaf and when he talks he can be a bit loud and not realise others can easily hear him.
So you get a lot of 'look at the tits on that!' or 'fuck me! Look how short her skirt is!'
All way too loud so the girls can hear, by the time he's finished I'm red as a stop light.
Both of us being chicken's when it comes to actually talking to girls we are resigned to just looking, at least for now.

After a productive morning together walking round the shops we go get some chips and wonder back to the bus station.
Glens bus arrives first but before he goes I promise I'll be round his later that afternoon on my bike to have a look, he's assured me I can pick one of the mags to keep so I'm looking forward to it.
We say our 'see ya's' and I watch as he boards, makes his way up to top deck, finds a window seat and proceeds to make the shaking fist wanker sign at me while pulling a face.
Not to be outdone I mimic him then do the 'dickhead' sign, it's all very intellectual stuff and so carried away with it I am, I fail to notice that I'm being watched by another waiting passenger.
Only noticing after my friends bus roars away from the stand.

A man sat opposite and to my right is staring at me. It's an unusual look, not the disapproving frown I might have expected but more a sort of half grin/sneer. He doesn't look away but instead slowly looks me up and down.
It makes me feel very uncomfortable and I quickly look away. Suddenly my mum's worries about the mythical 'funny people' are all too real. I always took what she said with a pinch of salt, after all according to her the country was teaming with perverts.

I mean, I knew there were weirdos out there but I never thought I'd actually encounter one myself.
And now here I was seemingly sat opposite one.
Not wanting to look up again till my bus comes I get my bag and go through it, looking at the stuff I've bought that morning.
He sits there opposite me for the next 10 minutes and although trying hard I can't help but glance now and then, every time it's the same, just staring with that weird grin. It makes it worse as I'm wearing shorts and he's looking at my legs.

Eventually, after the longest 10 minutes of my life the 150 lumbers into view, passengers standing up around me, squeal of brakes, a hydraulic ssshhhh as the door opens. Then an awkward wait while folk disembark.
I glance back at the man just once more and to this day wish I hadn't. Fortunately he's still sitting down but in that brief look between jostling passenger's I see his pale face, piercing eyes glaring right at me, that sly grin. Then suddenly just before I break eye contact he sticks his tongue out, tapping it on his top lip.
It's an image that stays with me.
However at the same time relief is my new companion as I board, pay the fayre and, with a roar of engine leave the perv behind.

Climbing the stairs I find a nice spot half way down this upper deck. There's only about 8 other folk so plenty to choose. Putting my bag on the aisle seat I plonk down next to the window, peering out, watching shops speed by.
Shops soon turn to houses as we pass through the suburbs of bentley. Stopping to mainly let passenger's off, the bus slowly emptying. I've noticed on the previous 2 journeys that by the time I'm half way home I've usually got the upper deck to myself.

Just as we are leaving bentley there's another stop, mumbled talking coming from below, a woman's voice saying 'thank you' then slow steady footfalls on stairs.
She comes into view. An old woman wearing black.
Grey permed hair, she has a handbag over her shoulder and is carrying a heavy looking carrier bag.
I watch her unsteady progress towards me, noticing her looking for somewhere to sit.
As she gets closer her eyes suddenly settle on mine and a warm smile forms on her wrinkled face. I cannot help but smile back and at the time I curse myself inwardly, you never make eye contact with someone looking for a seat on your bus, unless of course you want them to sit next to you.
The little critical voice inside me goes into a rant calling me all the names under the sun as she comes right upto my aisle seat and asks in a sweet little voice
"Would you mind if I sit here?"

I can't very well say no but I'm puzzled why she chooses to sit next to me when there are so many empty seats.
"Yeah sure..... I'll just move my bag"
I say, trying desperately not to sound reluctant.
Making way for her she sits down next to me and I'm greeted by a strong smell of nice perfume.
Many years later I'm to discover that this scent is called beautiful by Estée Lauder.
As she makes herself comfy, putting her bags down it's only then I notice something curious, she's wearing black lacy gloves with little bows on. So concerned with her sitting next to me before, i had not noticed. In fact now as I look her over I see she's very well dressed, almost like she's been to a funeral or something.

Shiny black shoes with a little heel, black tights or stockings, knee length black skirt, smart black blouse.
Which I might add, has a few too many buttons undone revealing a nice bit of cleavage, her boobs seem huge and I can't take my eyes off the impressive bosom wobbling just inches away as she makes herself comfortable.
There's little room on these seats and we are somewhat touching, not exactly squashed together but my shoulder is brushing against hers. I feel a little uncomfortable at the closeness of this stranger, my personal space is gone.
And that nagging question keeps coming back....why sit next to me when so many empty seats?

Once comfy she turns to me smiling, returning her smile she then asks if I've been into town.
I tell her I have and also about meeting my friend.
I'm actually pleased she's talking to me I was afraid she would just sit there in silence.
I've had that before on my first journey a couple week back, some guy sat there in complete silence, it felt very awkward.
I suppose I'm weird in that way, to me if someone invades my personal space I feel I must talk to them otherwise I just get really nervous.

As our journey passes through the village of askern we make idle chit chat, the top deck now nearly empty just one more passenger with us.
The old lady is very friendly and pleasent to talk with, I find myself enjoying her company, she makes me ease, like I've known her for many years.

The bus whines on stopping and starting, the driver now taking his time, perhaps ahead of schedule.
I keep sneaking a peak at my new friends cleavage, yes I know she's old and glen would take the piss for fancying up old women but he's not here and if he was then he'd be doing the same thing as me, her tits are fucking awesome.
I try and time my glances with bumps in the road or a not so 'level' crossing. My god they do wobble a lot when it's bumpy, soft flesh vibrating and jiggling.

I do get caught, just once, damn it! So embarrassing when that happens. Fortunately she doesn't take offence, just seems to ignore my indiscretion.

Now I come to the point in our journey where the atmosphere changes.
A couple of things happen at the same time. Firstly, what I've been stealing glances at coupled with the vibration up through my seat and that wonderful smell she has......well, it has an effect upon me.
I'm wearing shorts so it's even worse as it's more noticeable.
Secondly we are now alone on the top deck. Our last passenger got off upon entering norton.
Last but not least there is a perceptible change in the old lady, she's quiter and keeps looking round as if expecting someone, perhaps a friend of hers is due to get on soon?

What happens next takes me completely by surprise, so much so that I don't know how to handle it, I just sort of....let it happen.

As we're leaving norton our bus takes a left onto the main A19 road that goes upto whitley. There are no more stops for several minutes just a long stretch of main road.
The old lady suddenly places her gloved left hand on my right leg, near the top.
I actually think that it's an accident at first and fully expect for her to remove it perhaps while apologising.
This she doesn't do. What she does do is begin stroking slowly up and down, on the up stroke curving in a little to my inner thigh.
I'm froze in that instant, only able to slowly turn my head and look at her. She doesn't acknowledge my gaze, just continues looking out the windows as though nothing is happening.

Although I'm not moving, on the inside all is turmoil, nervous excitement, heart hammering away. Opening my mouth I'm breathing faster, head spinning.
I'm so scared but so turned on at the same time.
Her hand keeps moving higher towards my crotch.
Earlier just moments ago when I'd first started getting hard I brought my hands together in my lap to conceal it, now as I sit there frozen in my seat, I feel the old woman's gloved fingers slowly slide beneath my clasped hands, gasping at her touch on my most sensitive area.
She gently pushes my hands up out of the way then settles back on my crotch, stroking carefully up and down the outline of my cock bulge.

A whimper escapes me, I can't help it. It feels too good. I'm being touched by a woman for the very first time and I can't believe this is happening to me now, it's surreal.
With hands now clasped uselessly across my chest I gaze down and watch her lacy gloved hand disappear under my shorts waistband.
Gasping out loud at the sensation, fingers curling around my stiff shaft pulling it free of the shorts, now out and exposed my pink cock contrasting with the black of her gloves, lacy material sliding gently up and down creating an exquisite tickling sensation.....oh god yes!

Drawing in a sharp breath, cum in my balls already boiling, getting ready to erupt.
I glance back up at her just once more before it happens. She's not looking out the window anymore but staring down at what she's doing to me, her eyes fixed on my cock with a look of concentration, the faintest of grins just barely visible.
As I lose what little control I had all effort goes into not screaming at the top of my voice. Instead, a muffled high pitched groan is emitted. Looking down I see my cum flying out towards the back of the seat in front of us, a wave of dizziness hits me and I close my eyes, I'm humping wildly, feeling that lacy grip holding me tight.

Opening my eyes, breathing fast, shaking. I see the last squirts turning to dribbles. It's all over the seat back and floor near my feet. Some is oozing onto her glove, pearly white against black lace.
I'm in shock, just staring down at the mess I've made, feeling exposed and oh so good.
Sitting back panting, glancing at the old lady. For a moment she continues to stare down at what she's made me do that look of concentration gone, now looks more like satisfaction, the way you might look at a finished painting your very pleased with.
Looking up at me she smiles, that warm kind smile that i saw as she walked towards my seat earlier......about a thousand years ago.

When she talks it's in a quiet voice and a casual tone.
"There......that's much me" 
Letting go of my shrinking dick she leans forward, picks up her hand bag. Unzipping a compartment she pulls out some tissues and proceeds to clean me and her stained glove, dabbing it carefully.
She doesn't say anything else about it. When she's finished cleaning me I put my dick away back in the shorts.
Looking once again out the window for a second I don't know where we are but then suddenly recognise balne moor crossroads, we're coming into the village of whitley.

My mind is in turmoil at what has just happened. I'm still reeling and a little out of breath when suddenly I feel her leaning forward, grabbing her bags. She stands up, holding onto the seat.
Looking down at me swaying a little with the motion of the bus.
"Well young's been a pleasure but this is my stop and I must be leaving you..... goodbye for now and have a safe journey"
She smiles down at me one last time as I say
"Goodbye.......and......thank you"
It's all I can think to say on that spur of the moment.
With that she turns and steadily makes her way to the stairs, raising her voice as she descends
"Next stop please"
Then she is gone from view. The bus slows down, whining through gears as we come into whitley eventually stopping.
Ssssshhhhh of the door.
A muffled "thank you" from the old lady.

Looking out the window I can just see her making her way back along the pavement, a roar of engine and we're moving again. I watch her as long as I can but soon she's lost from view.

Although I don't know it at the time It's to be 4 years before I see her again. That next saturday I'm a bag of nerves on the bus as we reach the stop in bentley where she previously got on. But the bus roars past without stopping. And again the following week.
I don't tell glen what happened that day, he probably wouldn't believe me anyway, who would?
As time goes by the old lady fades a little in my thoughts and eventually makes her way to the back of my memory. Still there of course but not at the forefront.

In the coming years girlfriends come and go.
It's not till I'm 18 that I meet my current wife beth, whom I'm still deeply in love with. At 17 I apply for my driving licence. And dad finds himself reluctantly in the passenger seat of the family fiesta, an l plate adorning the back and front.
It's during one of these lessons while driving through whitley that I happen to notice an old lady waiting patiently to cross the road. Slowing down to a stop, allowing her to cross I can hear my dad praising me for being so considerate, his voice is distant however as I stare in sudden recognition as this old lady smiles and mouth's 'thank you'. The memory of 4 years past comes flooding back.
It's her. The old lady on the bus.

I don't think she recognises me. The passage of time has hardly touched her. And I'm suddenly overcome with the memory of that day, it's a powerful moment and my emotions get the better of me.
Waiting too long stationary, blocking the road as I watch her walk along the opposite pavement my attention brought rudely back to focus by the impatient beep of a horn from behind.
Dad staring at me questioningly. I stall the car in my haste to move on, making matters worse.
Cursing myself inwardly, getting the car going again, carefully moving off.
I pass her on our right walking in our direction, staring through the mirrors until, like before, I lose sight of her again......this time for good.

That was 30 years ago.
The only person I ever told was my wife beth and that quite recently, few years back.
She was very understanding. She asked me lots of questions about it including was I scared? And, did I like it?......... To each I answered yes.

The end.

Offline Eskimojoe

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Reply #1 on: October 06, 2020, 03:46:06 AM
Great story!