A Total-E-Bound Publication
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Secret Surprise
ISBN # 978-1-906811-89-1
©Copyright Victoria Blisse 2009
Cover Art by Natalie Winters ©Copyright February 2009
Edited by Michele Paulin
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2009 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road
, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.
My Secret Valentine
SECRET SURPRISE
Victoria Blisse
Dedication
To My dearest Husband, Kev. I want to always be the one to accompany you on your journey , I want always to have you by my side. Thank you for your love, inspiration and support. I could not write without you.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:
Google: Google Inc.
Chapter One
Six o’clock in the morning is not a good time to be up and about any time of the year, but in the winter, it is just plain miserable. It’s dark, cold and today it was raining, what a fantastic way to start the day, eh?
Living at home whilst commuting to university had seemed such a fantastic idea when I’d made the decision. It’s only a couple of buses, I’d thought and it would save me a lot of money, and really and truthfully, that was the only way I’d be able to do university at all. I had to work to pay the tuition fees, and I’d not have time to study if I had to work to cover rent, too.
So hence, the six a.m. at the bus stop started. I needed to get into Manchester at seven-thirty to do a couple hours in the newsagents before lectures, and I had to get two buses, the first of which due at five to six but was barely ever on time.
That day it was late, and I was cold and wet. My umbrella was fine, and my waterproof was waterproof, but the wind drove droplets into my face and against my exposed legs, and the impervious items just weren’t really working right. I told myself for the hundredth time that I needed to buy some new tights. I’d laddered those I’d gotten in September, and for the last couple of weeks, I’d had to do without them. I was just loath to spend more money on those horrid torture devices, and I was hoping to see signs of spring soon. February had not obliged up until that point.
The bus finally pulled in, and I leapt on eagerly. The young driver smiled lazily as I flashed my soggy pass.
“A bit wet, eh?” He grinned, his eyes travelling down to my soaked legs.
“You could say that,” I blushed, “and it doesn’t help when the bus is late.”
“Sorry.” His stubbled cheeks turned a little pink and his conker-dark eyes shone as he shrugged. “I was a little late getting in this morning.”
He pulled shut the doors with a swoosh and his engine rumbled louder. I walked to the front seats and sat down behind the driver’s cab and the stairway. Wow, he’s bloody good looking, I thought to myself. Well, as bus drivers go anyway and much younger than the usual guy who’d never once said a word to me in all the time he’d driven the bus. I really hoped this new guy would become a regular on this route.
My cold legs started to tingle as the circulation came back, and I bent down to rub them, to make them warmer. I let out a soft whimper as the heat flooded back into my limbs as I scrubbed one leg all the way up to the knee and back down to the ankle. I moved to the other, aware that my touching was heating me up in more ways than one! What a hussy I was—a virgin hussy but a hussy all the same.
I looked up as I caressed the skin just below my knee and saw the driver’s eyes fixed on me through the mirror. It was probably just a coincidence. He must have been looking at the traffic out of the back window, right? It was uncanny how his eyes felt like they were literally on me. I felt as if he caressed me with his gaze, and although I knew it should probably creep me out, I actually found it turning me on.
I sat up and pulled the zip down on my waterproof. In the heat of the bus, my body was overheating. Remembering my mum’s sage advice, I took my coat off and lay it over my bag beside me. I glanced back as I did so and noticed there wasn’t another soul on the bus. That was not unusual for this time of the morning, though.
What was unusual was that when I looked up again the driver’s gaze was on me again, and it seemed as if he was looking into my abundant cleavage. The shirt I had to wear for work had quite the plunging neckline. I had complained about it before, a girl with so much boob needed a higher-necked shirt, but the shop owner just shrugged and told me, “No exceptions.”
The bus driver was looking at me, I was sure of it. Every time I looked up, I saw his eyes. His dark, piercing, sexually sparkling eyes had me squirming in my seat. I might have been a virgin, but I was not frigid. I’d been aware of my sexuality for a few years but unfortunately had not found anyone willing to search it with me. I was late jumping on the bandwagon, hence my virgin status.
But his gaze rested heavily on me, and it was arousing much more than just my curiosity. A wicked idea flashed through my mind, and I wondered if I could actually go through with it. Wouldn’t that be a surprise for him! I supposed it would let me know if he was watching me or not. I parted my legs a little more and rested a hand on one of my knees then after checking out the window for bus stops and seeing none, I hiked the skirt up my leg an inch or so and exposed the bottom of my thighs.
I heard a groan, a definite reaction from the driver and lust shot up from my hand to my pussy. I didn’t risk looking up. I didn’t want anything to break the spell. I put my other hand down on the edge of my skirt, and I pushed down and yawned as if I was only stretching as I pulled back the material even further, bringing the edge of the scratchy material to just below my crotch.
I risked another glance up and sure enough he was looking at me again. It was thrilling. I realised it was dangerous. There used to be a notice on all buses warning you not to distract the driver from his duty, but as he was crawling along at a sedate, country-lane kind of pace I didn’t feel too bad. I watched under hooded eyes, and he did look away, concentrating on his driving once more. Confident that he was not going to crash us, I continued with my game.
I stretched out my legs then parted them further and exposed my cotton-covered pussy. It was a shame that I was wearing practical, plain-white knickers that day, but from the gasp I guessed the driver wasn’t particularly bothered by their utilitarian look.
I’d always been the good little girl, and I realised with a shock of sexual pleasure that being naughty turned me on. I panicked as he pulled into a lay by, but I looked out of the window and saw there was no one there.
“I’m, er, ahead of schedule.” I
could tell by his voice he was making it all up, “We’ll just wait here for a few minutes, you know, ‘til you’re, I mean, we are done. I mean, ‘til we can go again.”
I nodded and smiled wickedly at the hesitancy in his voice and ran a hand down to my crotch, my longest finger caressed the centre of the wet material there.
“Okay, driver,” I purred and continued to stroke my straining pussy lips and slit through the drenched cotton. I couldn’t believe I was being so wanton. There was a little voice, really little voice that squeaked about respect and propriety and anyone could walk past, but I ignored that voice and listened only to the call of my cunt, which was completely on fire.
When I masturbated at home, I liked to imagine situations between myself and some hunk or another, but what got me off the best was when I imagined him whispering into my ear as he fucked me. As I would get closer and closer to coming, his words got filthier until they were but a string of profanity and course descriptors of the male and female genitalia.
I pulled the white cotton away from my slit, held it firmly in my right hand and exposed myself to him. I opened my eyes, all timidity gone, and he was watching, oh fuck, was he watching. His eyes were fixed on my wet slit and the finger I traced up and down between the puffy lips. His face was etched with intensity, his lips were slightly parted and although I couldn’t see anything more than part of his shoulder, I knew he was wanking.
Another fantasy that was sure to make me come involved watching a man wank. Knowing he was doing that made me sigh and slip my finger inside my clenching hole. I rammed my fingers into me, almost hard enough to hurt. I whimpered as I seesawed in and out of my cunt, imagining his cock inside me. I kept my eyes fixed on the mirror, though they sometimes closed against the intensity of sensation zipping through me. He always looked back at me when my eyes opened, and when I saw his tongue nip out and wet his lips, I felt juices gush all over my fingers.
I needed release. I tugged harder on the panties, pulled them even further away from my cunt, I stretched my legs wider as I pulled out and pressed my sticky fingers to my swollen clit. I rubbed up and down rapidly and fought to keep my eyes open as my orgasm approached.
His face was a picture of lust, skin flushed red, his eyes fixed on my wanking fingers. His chin set and his neck tensed. He was waiting for me, holding back. I could feel the strain from here, and I knew he was wondering what my hot cunt would taste like and how it’d feel wrapped around his cock.
“Yes,” he gasped as I groaned and rubbed all the quicker. “Yes, do it.” He moaned and just as my eyes closed as pleasure exploded through me I saw him throw back his head, and as I shuddered and moaned, I heard him roar, and it sent a new wave of tingles through my pelvis to flood my whole body.
I pulled down my skirt as I heard a harsh rap on the door.
“Shit.” I heard from the cab, and after a second, the door opened to admit one elderly lady.
“I thought you’d fallen asleep,” she grumbled. “Why are you hanging around here? You’re late.”
“Yes, I’m sorry about that. I was having some technical troubles, but they seem to be all fixed now. Erm, had you been stood there long?”
“A few minutes. Took me all my time to read your number on the front. My old eyes aren’t what they used to be.”
The lady sat opposite me, and the bus moved off.
“Had you been there long?” the lady asked me. “I didn’t realise there was anyone else on.”
“Oh, five minutes or so.” I grinned, cheeks flushed and hands firmly crossed in my lap.
“I don’t know what the world’s coming to.” She tutted and tightened the scarf under her chin, pulling it tighter over her permed white hair. I smiled politely and waited for my heart to run back to a more normal level. My pussy still throbbed, and my fingers were still sticky. I wondered if she could smell what I could smell or if I was just sensitive to my own musk. I wasn’t sure as it all felt so very surreal. I got up at the bus station and moved down the bus. As the doors opened, I smiled at the driver, who winked.
“Thank you.” I nodded and he grinned.
“See you tomorrow,” he replied and blew me a little kiss. “This is my new permanent route.”
* * * *
Those words trundled around my brain all morning.
“Jane, wake the hell up.” Joan snapped her fingers just in front of my face.
“Oh, sorry.” I pushed up, took my elbows off the desk in front of me then stroked my fingers over the covers of the newspapers I’d leaned on.
“If the boss catches you like that, you’ll be fucked.”
Joan was not the kind of woman to mince her words.
“I know. Sorry.” I sighed. “I’m just not quite with it today.”
“I noticed. Did you get a shag last night?”
“What?”
Joan rolled her eyes at me, “Oh, you heard me. You’ve got that just fucked look.”
“I have no such thing.” I humphed and turned my back on her to straighten up the alcohol bottles on the shelf behind me.
“Oh you do, young lady.” Joan’s voice was laden with sarcasm that had been built up over many, many years. “But if you’re too embarrassed to tell me…”
“Nothing happened last night.” I turned and looked into her mascara-rimmed eyes. I was telling the truth. I was not about to tell her I’d masturbated for the stranger who was driving the morning bus. She’d never have believed me anyway.
“Fine, whatever you say, love.” Joan gave me the know-it-all smile and turned to serve a customer while I got back to daydreaming and wondering about what might happen tomorrow morning.
Chapter Two
It wasn’t raining the next morning so that was an improvement, but the bus was still late. I knew exactly how minutes late it was, too. I’d been counting the seconds. I forced myself to stand still because if he came round the corner to see me dancing around with nerves, he might just think I needed a wee. I needed relief, but not that kind of relief. I’d been fantasising about what might happen. In fact, I’d bought a packet of condoms last night, and I had one tucked in the side pocket of my bag just in case.
I’d not really thought out the logistics yet. I was pretty certain there was no way he could drive and fuck me at the same time, but it was better to be safe than sorry, right?
I heard the rumble of a large vehicle approaching, and I was thrilled and a little shocked to see that it was in fact the bus.
“Morning.” He smiled as I walked on and flashed my pass. “Not so wet today, I see.”
“Just a little damp.” I winked, aghast at my own flirtatious behaviour. I sat down at the front again but was dismayed when I saw an old gentleman sat a couple of seats behind me. No fun and games would go on with someone else in tow. I looked up and into the mirror. He looked at me, and I shrugged my shoulders. He sighed dramatically then smiled.
That smile was quite something. A little lopsided and thin, you got the barest flash of his teeth but his lips seemed to plump up and you could really see it in his eyes. That smile made me want to do naughty things even with the Old Age Pensioner present.
Unfortunately the pensioner didn’t get off the bus until the last stop with me.
“Be at the stop early tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you,” the driver said as I got off. I looked at him, confusion etched on my brow.
“Please?” he added. He pushed out his lower lip in a pout, and I instantly wanted to take it between my teeth. I nodded, trying to cover my lascivious thoughts and blushing cheeks with a polite smile.
How was a girl meant to concentrate when such a promise has been made? Time crawled as I doodled on my pad all the way through my English lecture. As Mr. Hughes dismissed us, I realised I really hadn’t heard a word of what he’d just said. Oh well, unless he was explaining how I could fuck a bus driver on his vehicle whilst he drove it and transported the public I had to say I wasn’t interested.
By the time I crawled into bed, I’
d decided to fuck the general public, well not literally obviously. They just didn’t fit into my fantasy. I stroked my thighs beneath my cotton cartoon character nightie as I once again planned out how it would go in the morning.
The bus would arrive bang on time and the doors would slide open. I’d walk in all casual like and smile and he’d nod and I’d see that heavy lust in his eyes. There would be no one on the bus and he wouldn’t stop for anyone. I’d stand in the aisle and drop my bag and coat to the floor.
I’d stand exactly where he’d be able to see me best and I’d unbutton my blouse. He’d pull over into a secluded lay-by as I’d pulled off my skirt, and by the time I’d slip down my bra strap he’d be out of the cab and standing before me.
My fingers fucked in and out of my creamy slit as the fantasy continued.
He’d cup my breasts as they’re released and kissed me. He’d ravish my mouth and slide a hand into my knickers as I ripped and tore at his shirt and pants, needing to feel his naked skin against mine.
As my orgasm built—I am not a slow, sensual masturbator. I’m a fast and furious wanker—the action slid and, in my mind, I was on the floor with my legs spread wide. He was between my thighs, cock in hand, and I rubbed on my tiny clit, begging him to fuck me. His cock pierced my hole, and I yelled as he filled me, taking my virginity and making me come.
I removed my fingers from their slick resting place and shuddered. I couldn’t help fantasising, but really, I couldn’t see me losing my virginity any time soon. Surely he was just teasing me or maybe he wanted to talk, possibly arrange a date? I didn’t know. He was hot though, and I just couldn’t see him being interested in chubby old me.
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