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She slipped inside her boyfriend Carl’s arms. Moments later, I got to listen to soft whimpers of pleasure in stereo just underneath the chatter from the kids up front.The bus bumped along the dark state highway, and my eyes adjusted to the gloom. Coach had his bottle in hand; his head sagged against his chest. Slowly, a tangy scent built until it could cut through the pervasive grimy sweat odors.I looked down. Mike’s hand moved under Tracey’s short cheerleader skirt. She rolled her hips in response, her thighs slightly parted, surrounding his wrist. It dawned on me what I was smelling, even though at fifteen, it was a completely new sensation.My cock stiffened in my pants.Megan’s soft mewls on my other side only made my blood race harder. I became lightheaded in the adrenaline, but I remembered my charge—watch Coach. He glanced back only once. Like a good soldier, I waved and kept my mouth shut. He grimaced, but shrugged and returned to his drink. All my attention returned to. He wants to spank my ass and train me. He wants me to like it when he hurts me. He doesn't care about me at all.He wants to fuck a stereotype.The horrible truth is I want that too. My cunt oozes like a spring at the thought of calling him master. I want things I'm barely even able to admit to myself except in moments like these when unwelcome lust floods into my loins. His hand moves to my tummy and then hooks into my slit and I spread my legs, putting my hands behind my back, grabbing my own elbows and arching my breasts toward him like a slave. I want to squat and kneel drink his cum by the pint. I want him to spank me, and fuck me, and pierce me, and brand me, and chain me, and breed me. I gasp like a stereotypical asian whore again as he starts massaging my labia with those articulate fingers. I want him to gag me, and use me as a table to dine on. I grunt lustily as he probes into my vagina. I don't even care how wrong it is, I want to wince quietly in my bondage as his pretty.
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