Frank Brown

School for discipline


The bouncing of the Greyhound bus made Lisa horny. The vibrations caused by the grinding bus engine sent warm sensations zinging up her teenage pussy. She could feel her cunt lips getting wet as they hugged the crotch-seam of her tight jeans, the tight scam cutting up between her pussy lips like a gag. Each time the bus hit a rut in the road her cunt almost spasmed. She took a deep breath and turned to the old witch on her right.

'Excuse me, Mrs. Turner, but I have to use the bathroom.'

The square-jawed social worker gave her a quick scowl, then stared straight ahead again, her long neck stiff and straight, as was the rest of her scarecrow figure.

'The facility is known as a restroom, Miss Wills. I hope you're not intending to bathe in it.'

'No, ma'am.' Lisa rose to squeeze past her.

'Put on your shoes,' Mrs. Turner said, grabbing Lisa's arm and forcing her back down. The wiry woman shard fingernails gouged Lisa's flesh, making her wince.

'Yes, ma'am.' Lisa wanted to claw the witch's face, but she swallowed hard and bent forward to tug her blue tennis shoes over her brown feet. She hated shoes, and she went barefoot so often that she usually wasn't aware that she was shoeless unless somebody reminded her of the fact. Mrs. Turner seemed to remind her every few minutes.

'That's better,' Mrs. Turner said. 'Now, don't be long like last time.'

'Yes, ma'am.' Lisa edged past the woman's bony knees.

Lisa loved the Greyhound's stainless-steel restroom. She loved the loud click of the door lock, loved the way the entire cubicle vibrated. She felt secure as she locked herself in, and she yanked off her shoes and blue jeans in an instant. She'd have taken off her yellow T-shirt too, but in case of an emergency she wanted to be able to dress fast.

That was all right, though, because the vibrations of the bus made her braless tits jiggle against the fabric of her shirt, making her feel as if her nipples were being licked by a tongue, a boy's tongue.

Sitting on the toilet, Lisa pissed, listening to the hissing stream tinkle down into the blue solution below like a thin waterfall into a pond. She held apart her pussy lips as she pissed. The inner lips were warm and wet, slippery with her cunt juices. Lisa loved it when her cunt got wet, because then she just had to rub herself off, and rubbing off always felt super good. She squeezed out the last few drops of piss and began to masturbate.

Using the fingertips of both hands, she lightly caressed the hot inner slabs of her teenage pussy. Little shivers moved through the inflamed flesh, and Lisa sighed. Those first few pussy rubs always felt marvelous. She pinched her hard young clit and popped it back and forth between her fingers. Her juicy clit squirmed like a worm, and Lisa forced her legs apart wide, opening herself up to a phantom cock. She closed her eyes, imagining the big meaty thing.

The cock belonged to that cute boy who had been on the last bus. She hadn't seen it naked, she'd just seen it sticking down the leg of the boy's jeans, but it was so hard, and the boy's jeans were so tight, that Lisa had been able to see the mushroom-shaped head on the end of it. She'd smiled at the boy, and she'd licked her lips, and the boy's cock had jumped in his pants like a fish. Had Mrs. Turner, the old bat, not been hovering over her like a vulture, Lisa would have slipped into the seat next to the boy to feel up his cock while he felt up her pussy and tits.

Lisa rammed three fingers up her cunt. Her bunched fingers were like the boy's hot cock. Her pussy walls stretched. Hot feelings flooded her loins. She fucked her fingers in and out, wiggling her ass on the toilet seat while she humped at her working hand. It felt good, almost like the boy's cock would have felt had she been able to fuck him. They could have done it, she knew. That last bus had been almost empty, with nobody sitting toward the back. She and the boy could have easily sneaked into the restroom together and fucked, had it not been for that rat-faced Mrs. Turner.

Lisa twirled her fingers inside herself, getting them all hot and slopped up with her cunt juices. She could feel a trickle of juice ooze down over her bottom. She squirmed, finger-fucking herself faster. Cream me, she thought. Shoot that hot stuff up my cunt.

Crap, if it hadn't been for Mrs. Turner, Lisa would have felt the hot boy-cum blasting up her pussy. God, that would have felt good. As it happened, she had at least gotten a taste of the horny boy's cum. He'd gotten so hot sitting across the aisle from her while she made eyes at him that he'd run to the bathroom. A few minutes later, when he'd come back to his seat, he'd winked at her. Lisa smiled at him. She knew what he'd done.

Then Lisa had gone to the restroom hoping she'd get a whiff of his cum in the air. When she opened the door she almost fainted. White gobs of the boy's cum hung from the mirror. Pools of the sexy stuff sat on the stainless-steel washbasin. Lisa had wasted no time in licking the tasty boy-jizz off the glass and stainless-steel. As she had swallowed it, she'd gotten so excited that she's spasmed with out even touching her pussy. Her pussy went off like a pack of firecrackers – both then and now.

'Oh, man!' she muttered. 'Feels good!' As her orgasm bit, she managed to get a fourth finger up her cunt, and now she worked all four fingers in and out of her sucking pussy hole with such force that she was near to shoving her entire hand inside herself. It felt good, so very good. She felt her toes curling. She felt prickles of sensation in her tight little whole. Wonderful!

Her orgasm over, she washed up. She had to wash up well. Mrs. Turner probably had the sense of smell of a coyote. She squeezed once more into her tight jeans, feeling sexy that she wasn't putting on panties first. That boy had her panties now, her smelly, cunt-soaked panties. He'd given her his sweet cum, so, as she and Mrs. Turner had left the bus to transfer onto this one, Lisa had slipped the boy her wet-crotched panties. At this very moment that boy was probably jerking off with her panties pressed to his face. The thought of it got Lisa so hot again that she wanted to rub herself off, but Mrs. Turner was undoubtedly tapping her claws with impatience at this very moment, so Lisa had to get back to her seat. She squeezed her sexy brown feet into her shoes and opened the restroom door.

An hour later, the bus began its slow, winding descent into Sutton. In places along the narrow road, Lisa looked down off sheer cliffs to the city below. She held on, tense, sure that the big Greyhound would at any second slide off the road and tumble in slow motion through space until it crashed onto a street below and exploded like a dropped whiskey bottle. She glanced at Mrs. Turner, who sat stiff, expressionless, staring straight ahead. She wanted to strangle the old turkey for being so irritably calm at a time like this.

Sutton was set in a river valley between steep limestone hills. In places, gray and white bluffs stood up out of the trees like abstract sculptures, some of the pillars of rock looking like gigantic cocks. As the bus neared the base of the hill, entering Sutton, Lisa stared up at the skyscrapers of limestone. She felt uneasy. At any moment, she thought, those ominous pillars of stone could come avalanching down and crush the city. Then the sun, which had been blazing all morning, disappeared behind a dirty rag of clouds, and Lisa shivered. Even her usually warm toes turned cold, and she slipped into her shoes, wondering whether choosing to come to Sutton had been wise. There was something about the city, something cold and dangerous. She could feel it, even though the bus hadn't yet crossed the city limits.

Tail yellow trees lined the city streets: elms, cottonwoods, aspen, birch. In the October wind, showers of yellow leaves tumbled and swirled ahead of the bus. Lisa imagined the bus passing through a rotating yellow tunnel. As the sun blazed out again, the yellow seemed to become fire. But it was a cold fire, and Lisa shivered again.

The streets of Sutton looked nearly deserted; few cars, and even fewer people on foot. Most of the pedestrians were old men and women who looked up grimly at the bus as it passed, as if the bus were an unwelcome intruder. The people looked afraid, Lisa thought, afraid or all worn out with worry.

The bus stopped at the railroad tracks. Lisa could hear the clanging ding, ding, ding of the warning signal. She watched the swinging pendulum of the signal with its glaring red eye. The train was near. She could hear the

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