****** The Enrapture by TNYF ******
===============================================================================

The Enrapture


The day is a perfect one, warm, breezy, and an overhead sky filled with
brilliant sunshine. You walk toward to bus stop, enjoying the warmth of the
sun's rays against your skin, and the breeze across your face. It is a Friday
and you are glad to be free of the office, its deadlines and its confinements.
You breath deeply, drawing clean, fresh air into your lungs, and begin to
ponder your activities this weekend as you stand waiting for the bus to arrive.

It is with curiosity at first, that you begin to watch a woman standing about
three yards from you watching you. She appears to be an unusual ethnic mix;
perhaps some Asian or possibly East Asian in her, definitely mixed with black.
Her hair is jet-black, long and shimmering, spanning the length of her back,
terminating just above the curve of her butt. She is olive-skinned, a deep,
rich skin tone, flawless, and is petite, perhaps no more then 105 pounds. She
is well-proportioned, with full breasts, thin waist and a cute, round bottom.
But her eyes are what ensnared you. They are deep and penetrating, a most
unusual shade of hazel, and are staring back at you confidently, challengingly.
Your stomach fills with butterflies, and you get nervous. You aren't even sure
why, as this woman has not threatened you in any way, hasn't spoke, nor made
scarcely a movement. But your heart is racing.

The sound of an engine decelerating snaps your attention back, somewhat, to
reality, and you see that the bus has pulled up and commuters are boarding. You
get in line, and inexplicably grow excited as you see the woman get in place
behind you, gracefully, a small, barely perceptible grin or smile flashing
briefly across her face. You board, quickly and nervously, pushing past people
until you are in the rear, standing. You watch as she too heads to the rear,
slowly, in the most seductive feline way, vaguely reminiscent of a cat chasing
prey. She is wearing a small, tight, black leather skirt, form-fitting gray
tube top, and four-inch high-heels. She nears you, keeping eye contact at all
times. Your heart races. She is beautiful.

The bus starts moving, and she takes a place beside you, so near that her
perfume, which smells like the scent Romance, envelops you. You, in
nervousness, avoid her eyes, instead scanning the other passengers. You notice
that most of the nearby males seem to me enamored by her, and try little tricks
to get her attention. But she pays them no mind, and just watches you. Soon
they stop trying, and return to looking out the windows.

The bus stops again, and is boarded, this time filling almost to capacity,
forcing your female admirer to move closer to you. She smiles at you now, and
you return the gesture, as nervous as a schoolgirl. More people board, and she,
by accident or design, pushes into you. You feel the swell of her breasts
against your back. You gasp, shocked at the your arousal from the touch. You
have always been curious, but afraid, confused, and denied the desire. But her
movement elicited passion in you that is undeniable, and you fight to control
your racing heartbeat and growing wetness.

You are stunned by her next action, which is to place her hand, unseen in this
crowded bus, upon your cheek. It stays there, moving slightly, feeling your
pert bottom, softly and gently massaging the flesh. You do not reveal by words
or movement her actions to fellow passengers, just relieved it is unseen. She
remains wordless, but seeing no move on your part to end her activity she
becomes bolder, and her hand progresses to the elastic waistband of your skirt,
pushing forth until she in inside, her hands seeking your damp crotch. She
remains there for a moment, teasing, before expertly manipulating your pubic
mound. She circles you clitoris through the fabric, never touching it directly,
just circling it. The circles become smaller, and the pressure increasing,
until she arrives at your center of pleasure, and you get weak in the knees.
Then, abruptly, she removes her hand from your clitoris, and inserts one long,
sensuously slender finger into you, delving slowly into your sticky wetness.
You bite your bottom lip in an effort not to cry out in pleasure. Then,
suddenly, like before, she stops, withdrawing, dragging her wet finger across
the cleft of your hip leaving a little moist trail. She pulls out of your
skirt, rising up again out of the waistband, and, keeping her eyes connected to
your own, licks her finger clean, in a most sensual and delicate manner.

You close your eyes, almost overwhelmed by this woman's fierce but soft
sexuality. When you open them again, you see that this woman who has brought
you to the edge of orgasm on this crowded midtown bus is ringing the bell to
signal for a stop. You start to stammer something, anything, and she stops you,
placing her long index finger over your lips, quieting you. You smell the
faintest trace of your own scent on it. It is then, for the first time since
you saw her standing at the bus stop with you, that she speaks. Two simple
words, "Follow me." You are sent reeling, uncertain but curious, afraid but
excited.

You do.

Exiting the bus you stay close behind her, and see enters a small brownstone,
well decorated, obviously expensive, and before you realize it, you are on the
second floor, entering her apartment. She remains wordless, confident, and
leads you in. Before you can stutter anything, she embraces you, her full lips
intertwining with your own, her tongue hot and probing. She is gently, her
hands searching you delicately, caressing and kneading, until you radiate with
sexual heat. She strips you, her hands skilled and efficient, and before you
know it you are naked in front of her. She leads you to a couch, soft and
comfortable, where she lays you down and showers you with soft, passionate
open-lipped kisses, allowing just the tip of her tongue to contact your skin.
You are alive with pleasure and passion, sensation coursing through your body
like electricity. Your nipples are hard and erect, flushed with color, as is
your sex, which is moist and throbbing with desire. She does not fail you, and
as her lips find your nipple, and she plays with the nub of flesh with her
teeth, her hand parts your nether lips, stroking firmly, spreading your
wetness, penetrating your tightness. You writhe on the couch, wrought with
pleasure, moaning softly, a small tear running down your cheek from the beauty
and perfection of it all.

She uses her tone expertly on your nipple, teasing it until it strains upward,
her saliva cooling it in the air, further teasing it, and she works downward,
trailing her tongue until she is over your stomach, kissing, licking and
sucking at the smooth, tender skin. She progresses to your crotch, where she
uses her fingers and tongue simultaneously, her fingers penetrating you, her
tongue lapping at your clitoris. You feel orgasm building, and as she begins
sucking at you in earnest. Another soaked finger finds the tender, puckered
ring of your anus and unlike the hurried, excited insertions men attempt she
skillfully and slowly penetrates it, pushing past the tight ring centimeter by
centimeter until her finger is in up to her knuckle. She slowly begins working
you, stroking the fingers in your vagina and anus, sucking your clitoris madly,
and you climax, screaming, sweating, teary eyed. You pass out, falling into a
contented, deep, dreamless sleep. You awaken in about an hour, to the sight of
the wordless woman standing before you, dressed in a silky lingerie set,
beckoning you into her bedroom two simple words and a smile yet again. "My
turn."

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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