The mid-morning bus wasn’t full, but my arse was too sore for me to sit. I wondered if my fellow travellers could feel the heat emanating from my glowing, recently thrashed cheeks. Could they tell how moist my cunt was, having been fucked less than 30 minutes before?
Someone brushed against me as they moved to alight. I winced as they bumped into my decidedly tender arse.
I wondered if they could smell Master C on me; the thick load of cum He unleashed over my boobs before rubbing it in, before I dressed with His cum dried on my skin.
The thought aroused me. My cunt grew warmer; I could feel my juices trickle down the insides of my thighs. Could anyone tell? Could they have known that beneath the primly, professionally dressed exterior there was a recently fucked and thrashed and seriously aroused, filthy little slut. Could they even guess that having been so recently and so very thoroughly fucked by Master C, I was on my way to spend the day with “The Other Guy”, to be fucked some more? Could they possibly have imagined that the seemingly demure, professional woman in their midst was just a few stops away from having a second cock inside her, less than an hour after being so soundly fucked by the first?
The insides of my thighs tingled. A reminder of how Master C’s thighs, so firm and strong from years of playing rugby, slammed against mine as he fucked me. Could the other passengers sense the bruises He left there?
My stop approached. My arousal levels peaked. Could anyone see how pronounced my nipples were? Could they possibly imagine the reason for slight flushing on my skin?
I stepped off the bus, leaving my fellow commuters in blissful ignorance. The only thing I was caring about as I walked the 100 or so yards to “The Other Guy’s” flat was how quickly I could feel his cock inside me, and which hole he would fuck first…