Her body stills.
And so does the bus.
Wren looks toward the curtain as the bus comes to a stop. My finger is still inside her, and her inner walls are still pulsing, but she freezes and stares at the curtain.
A voice calls out, “We’re going to get a cup of coffee. Be right back.”
“Okay,” Wren calls out, her voice shaking.
“Do you want anything?” the voice calls again, and I can almost hear the amusement in it.
“No, thank you,” she calls back.
The door opens and closes, and I pull my finger from her heat, sliding her panties back over so she’s covered. But Wren pulls herself up, and stands in front of me, sliding her shorts and panties down her legs quickly.
“What are you doing?” She’s naked, standing in front of me, and I have to ask that? Really?
“I want you.
” She climbs up to straddle me, reaching between us to pull my lounge pants away from my stomach, over my dick, and then she pushes my shoulders so I rock back on my hands. She pulls my dick away from my stomach. And then…then she sinks down on me, taking the head inside. She goes slowly, and I can’t stand it. I lift my hands and wrap my arms around her, bringing her down hard and fast on my dick, until she’s seated on top of me.
“Oh my God,” I groan. I lift her shirt so I can pull her nipple into my mouth. She brushes my mouth away.
“Just fuck me,” she says. “Fuck me now. Please.”
I hold on to her hips and pull her down hard and fast on top of me.
Almost immediately, I feel her walls clamp down on me. “Feels so good,” she says.
It feels better than anything.
“I’m coming,” she warns.
I hold her close as I pump inside her, once…twice… and then, “I’m coming too.” I squeeze her hips, pulling her as tight against me as she can get, as I come inside her slick, wet, tight walls. She milks me and I can feel the tiny quivers inside her. She holds me tight, her hands in my hair, pulling until her orgasm passes. Then her hands gentle, and she softly rubs my hair, collapsing against me.
And then I realize something’s off, because I feel her tense. “We didn’t…”
“We didn’t what?” I want to hear her say it. I want her to tell me it’s okay.
“We didn’t use a condom.”
“I’m clean. I got tested the last time I gave blood.”
“Me too. After the baby…” Her voice trails off.
“Then we’re okay, right?”
She lifts from my lap, standing up. She picks up her little shorts and her panties, and slips into the bathroom. A minute later, she comes back, all dressed like she was before. She’s quiet. Too quiet. And stiff. Too stiff. She won’t even look at me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I’m not on birth control,” she says.
“And?”
“And we didn’t use a condom.”
I’m not sorry. “Is that okay?” I watch her face closely.