u/Far_Travel_3446

It was one of those miserable summer days—somewhere past a hundred degrees, the air thick and sticky. I was waiting at the bus stop when I ended up talking to a woman who didn’t speak English. She was in a tight black outfit that showed a lot of cleavage, red lipstick, and she had a really nice ass. We kept glancing at each other while the bus refused to show up.
I went to the corner store and brought back two bottles of water. We started using a translator app on my phone, passing it back and forth. At some point she caught me looking at her chest a little too long. She smirked, typed something, and the phone said she didn’t mind if I looked—or even touched—if I wanted. The offer was clear enough. I laughed, a little surprised, and she just shrugged like it was no big deal.
The bus finally came. We both got on and went to the back. The rear was empty, so she took the seat in front of me. Every time the bus hit a bump I let my hands rest on her shoulders first, then lower, testing. She didn’t pull away. When I cupped her tits through the thin top, she pressed back into my hands for a second and kept looking out the window. The soft weight of them felt even better than I’d imagined.
A few minutes later her phone rang. She answered and started speaking in another language, half-turned away. I waited a bit, then slid one hand around and gave her left breast a light squeeze. She glanced back at me quickly, still on the call, and didn’t stop me. A minute later I reached over the seat with the other hand—awkward angle—and found her right nipple, pinching it gently between my fingers. She shifted in her seat and kept talking, but her free hand came up and briefly covered mine, holding it there for a second before letting go.
After that I just kept both hands on her, soft double grabs whenever the bus swayed. She finished the call, leaned back a little more into the seat, and we rode the rest of the way like that—quiet, her body warm under my hands, the city moving past the windows.
As the bus got closer to the stop I gave her left breast a firmer squeeze. She turned her head toward me. I leaned in and gave her a short, quiet kiss—just long enough to feel her soft lips and the faint cherry taste of her gloss. She didn’t pull away. When we broke apart she looked at me for a second, a small smile showing, then faced forward again.
The bus slowed and we both stood. We got off at the same stop and started walking the same direction without much talk. After a block it was clear we were headed the same way. I kept my hand on the small of her back at first, then let it slide lower. My fingers rested on the curve of her ass through the thin black fabric, not grabbing hard, just staying there as we walked. She glanced over once, shifted her bag on her shoulder, and kept pace with me through the hot city streets like this was normal.
We reached the building and stepped into the elevator together. I stood behind her—six feet, so I took up most of the space. She stayed near the corner, her back to me, ass close against my crotch as the doors closed. We were alone.
I put my hands on her hips first, then slid them up under her top and cupped her breasts, pressing her gently forward against the wall. She didn’t pull away. I pushed my hips in, grinding slow against her ass while I squeezed and worked her tits. The ride was short—my floor was only a few below hers—so it all happened fast. Heavy breathing, the soft weight of her in my hands, a quiet moan when I gripped harder.
The elevator slowed. I kissed the side of her neck, gave one last firm squeeze to her breast, lightly smacked her ass, and stepped out as the doors opened. They closed behind me with her still inside, heading up.