42nd Avenue – The Sexcapades of Pamela: Five-Hours of ‘Erotic Bus’ Groping

After my narrow escape from Colonel, I felt like seeing my grandma in the village so I quickly swing into action of visiting her.

I spent the whole of Sunday preparing to go home. I spent the morning cleaning my room and washing my pots and plates. At noon time, I left for ‘bend down boutique’ at Yaba and bought some clothes for grandma, my younger brother and sisters.

       In the evening, I went to see my friend, Rosa to inform her that I would be away to our home town Iselle-Uku for about one week or so.

       By 7.30am the following morning, I was at Jibowu, the terminal for those luxurious buses bound for the mid-western and eastern states of the federation. It wasn’t difficult sorting out the fare. I got my ticket and made for the bus, as I tried to climb into the bus, I tripped my right foot against the step and I crash landed with my bag.

       Two muscular black arms secured me and as I clambered angrily to my feet I found myself looking into the kind of face that can only be described as ‘lived-in’. The owner was in his early thirties, powerfully built with a big grin. Handsome he definitely wasn’t, but he had one of the nicest eyes I’d ever seen. “Sorry, I hope you’ve not injured yourself?” he asked as he looked me over.

       His eyes seemed to be removing the gown off my body, feasting on my giant nipples and the succulent base of my fabulous boobs, As I was covered with confusion, all I could do was stare helplessly into those incredible eyes.

       “I’m al…right” I managed to say finally as the man piloted me into the bus. I took a seat near the window, strangely wishing that he could take the seat next to me. You could therefore imagine how terrible relieved I felt when he settled his huge frame comfortably next to me.

       “I hope you are all right?” he asked again, genuine concern in his adorable eyes.

       “Oh,… yeah… thanks” I mumbled.

       “I’m Peter Okonji. How about you?”

       “Pamela,” I simply replied.

       “I guess you’re going to Agbor.”

       “Yes. And from there to Iselle-Uku.”

       “I see. Do you stay here in Lagos?” I mean, are you merely visiting Isele…”

       “Yes. I’m going to visit my grand-mother at home. She’s sick.”

       “Oh, I’m sorry.” He said again with concern.

       “What do you do here in Lagos?”

       “I’m a student. I’m studying accounting at the National Open University of Nigeria, I lied.

       The effect of that lie was magical on him as I saw a new kind of respect and admiration on his face.

       Soon the bus was filled with passengers and the journey began. As the long bus sneaked its way through the usually heavy Lagos traffic, Peter began to tell me about himself, his business, his future plans and so on. Although I found him attractive and considered him to be a lively conservationist, I wasn’t in the least interested in the story of his life. If we had been in a bed-room, locked together, I would have made the first move and probably undress him. I felt a strange sweet sensation rifling through me as I thought of the wonders I could perform with his gorgeous body.

       After we had passed the Sagamu junction, I noticed that his left hand was resting on my lap. Then it began to move downward, underneath my gown, and then slowly up again, gently massaging my smooth naked thighs. I smiled to myself and although I wanted his hand right there and even further up. I stopped its movement.

       “Pamela, I want you so badly.” He whispered. He had carefully spread that day edition of “The Guardian” newspaper on his lap so that no curious eyes would see what his hand was up to underneath.

       “No. you can’t touch me.” I said huskily.

       “You have a gorgeous body. I’m dying to explore it, he said pleadingly.

       “It’s no use. We’ve just met not too long ago and we’d soon part. And I guess we won’t ever meet again. Of what use is a five-hour romance in the bus?” I asked. 

       “It means a lot to me.”

       “How about me? What’s in it for me?” I asked in a manner that suggested I wanted him to give me something. He got the message

       From his hip pocket, he brought out his purse and counted N15000 placed his business card on top and gave them to me.

       “I understand.” He said. “I’m a businessman. Everybody needs money, especially student like you.”

       Soon after, his hand began to travel up and down my thighs again. He pulled aside my pants, and dipped his fingers into my vagina. A quiver went through me and I shuddered and gasped as he began to finger-fuck me. He was an expert with his fingers as he sent waves after waves of ecstasy enveloping me only I felt it would have been better if it were his cock.

       I reached for the zipper of his trousers and freed his cock from its confine stroked its shaft under the newspaper as he hands continued to work through every nook and cranny of my honey pot. We did it over and over again and by the time we got to Agbor in the afternoon. I had had three orgarsms. I felt fulfilled and relax. He came twice too thou. 

What a fantastic journey…