Bus Shelter Shenanigans

What do you call a 3 legged donkey?

A wonky.

This has to be one of my favourite terrible dad jokes and they are my biggest weakness. So when I found someone on OK cupid with a love of dad jokes I had to send this classic.

And they loved it. In fact, I seduced them with this joke. I wasn’t setting out to meet anyone, really. But because of my love of Dad jokes I ended up chatting to the most sweet Yorkshire Bean.  We clicked, with similar senses of humour and a love of kink, conversation flowed and it wasn’t long until we agreed we should meet. We had a first date all planned out.

Then that whole plan went out of the window. I blame spring and the rising sap in the world as Bean was on a course for work for a week and was bored. And, with thanks to me, all kinds of horny. Well, actually they started it. A hilarious misunderstanding over GF pie (I meant the gluten free pie I had for tea, they read it as a euphemism for oral sex) had us very much moving over the line from genteel flirting to out and out sexting. They had a definite desire to taste me and I had an undeniable urge to let them.  So on a whim they asked me if I could go visit them at their college. Stay over, you know provide fun distractions between studies.

And on an impulse, encouraged by my husband, I said yes. And the very next day I headed over the Pennines to see my Bean. I was anxious, yes, but mostly excited. It felt right. It was impulsive and it was probably not very responsible as I had work to do and such but it really did seem to be the right thing to do. I wanted to do my Bean. I really wanted to do my Bean.

I had plenty of time to think about it on public transport, I did register the beauty around me as I moved from Lancashire to Yorkshire and the day I picked to go was beautifully sunny and warm too. It really did feel like nature was calling to me to unravel, bloom and spread my pollen.

When I leapt out of the quaintest lil’ bus and saw Bean across the road my heart leapt, I rushed over to them, greeted, hugged and kissed their pretty pink glittery lips. I knew I’d made the right decision then. We walked hand in hand back to their room. Giggling and chatting easily.

I took a seat on the only chair in the room and texted my peeps, to let them know all was good. Then we talked a little and kissed a lot more and I started to get comfortable in the give and take of our lips and the way our bodies kept overlapping eagerly.

Now, this is where Bean noticed my luggage- a small coffin on wheels- and asked what I’d packed in there.

“Oh nothing. That’s just for me to get rid of your body afterward.”

“How will I fit in? I’m small but I’m not that small!” they laughed.

“Oh,I’ll dismember you.”

I am an erudite wordsmith who writes erotica for a living and you’d think I’d know what to say when seducing a human wouldn’t you? Sometimes I forget that and just say whatever the fuck comes into my mind. Luckily, Bean realised I was joking and we settled back into kissing, caressing and sighing.

Then their phone rang.

To cut to the chase, I wasn’t allowed on the college campus. I mean, not me personally, there wasn’t a bounty on my head or wanted posters with my face on all round the place. Just visitors weren’t allowed. At all. So, in no uncertain terms they were asked to escort me off the grounds ASAP.

Bean was mortified, I was not actually, which was kinda weird. I felt strangely empowered. Finally I was the bad girl, the rebel, the terrible influence! I revelled in it a little. However, poor Bean needed to comply with the request so we grabbed my coffin and headed back up the driveway to wait for a bus.

Plans change. And what better first date tale than this one. If we got past date one, this would be the stuff we’d laugh about.  The walk to the bus stop was filled mostly with practical conversation of what to do now, including bus timetables. We were in a fairly rural setting. It was a fairly major road but there was only trees, bushes and daffodils to be seen in any direction.  We stood at the bus stop and we kissed.

I know, I know. You want more detail. I can’t describe the precise flow of our lusts, the way our lips softly undulated together, how tongues darted and danced now and then, hands dove into hair, around waists and fingers clung on. I sucked on their bottom lip, nipped at it, making them squeak with delight. They kissed and bit my neck. Soft, hard, persistent, it was a bolt of lust coursing through my veins. We parted, panting for breath. We laughed, we moaned, we wished we were back in the room where there was a bed.

But I couldn’t stop looking at the bus shelter. Now, folks from Yorkshire (and maybe other places I don’t know) will be familiar with the kind of shelter I mean. Not just the flimsy corrugated iron things of towns and cities, sheltered barely and in no way a real building. Yorkshire Bus shelters are solid. Brick built. Walls with tiny windows and a little door.

Bean noticed me noticing and asked what I was thinking.

“Well,” I said with a wanton smile, “I was admiring how solid this shelter is and I was thinking, if we went in there we could, well, you know, be more discreet.”

It took oooh, a matter of seconds for me to be pressed up against the inside wall of the bus shelter, Bean’s eager hand roaming between my thighs. After a little frustration, I decided to lose the knickers. Tucking them into my handbag so they could get better access.

And oh my God, the way they strummed my clit, the way they kissed me, nibbled me, bit into my neck made me come and come and come wetly all over their fingers.

Yes, I am a slut and I was fingered in a bus shelter. It was fucking amazing.

When I got my breath and sight back, I worked on getting to their dick. It took a little cooperation but oh, what a pretty dick it was. It felt so soft and warm in my hand, hard too, so hard. I had them whimpering and gasping when they yelled.

“Fuck, the bus!”

And that’s where I had to stop and we had to get a bus.

Poor Bean.

Back in town we found a café bar and sat on a cosy sofa, drinking soft drinks, chatting and laughing. Typical first date things. But it was so very definitely a typical first date.  I felt so comfortable with Bean. I didn’t have a single anxiety with them by my side. And I was proud, so proud. I had this most gorgeous human snuggled up next to me and they looked at me with such adoration and lust it took my breath away.

Oh and I know I’ve talked about the kisses already but oh, the kisses. Everything else faded away into the background. All I was aware of was my mouth on theirs, our bodies pressed together, the taste of their soft lips, the gentleness of their breath, the softness of our moans and the way our mouths would rest together in smiles, when not actively engaged in discovering the repertoire of our kisses.

When we pulled apart, they looked round and blushed.

“There’s people all around.” They squeaked.

I didn’t care.

I don’t think they did either, really. I think we’d both have preferred to not be in public right then.

We ate, we talked, we kissed, we laughed. We had a really fucking good time.

They walked me back to the train station, carried my case down the stairs and insisted on dropping me at my platform even though they had a bus to catch.

We talked eagerly of our next date, planned for a mere 10 days later where I’d go to their place and we kissed in yet another public space.

When they left I immediately sat, and looked down into my phone. My practise waiting for any public transport in the dark on my own. So I was surprised when I had a tap on my shoulder.

“Let me know when you get home safe.” They said, and I pulled them in for another kiss and promised I would.

“I was trying to get your attention but you didn’t look up!” They explained, dashing back up the stairs. My whole body was enveloped with warmth at that care for me. So sweet, so loving. I couldn’t stop smiling all the way home.

It started with a Dad joke seduction and it’s only gotten weirder and more wonderful, this new dynamic with a new hot human. I can’t wait to see where it takes me next.

Victoria Blisse

Victoria Blisse is known as the Queen of Smut, Reverend to the kinky and is the Writer in Residence at Cocktails and Fuck Tales. She’s also an angel. Ask anyone. Mancunian Odd Duck, her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories along with her own particular brand of humour and romance that bring laughs and warm fuzzies in equal measure. Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

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