Mohini exposed by her husband by divya_baby

[Givemeextra]

He pulled her closer with a strong grip around her waist. The back of his hands pushed her breasts up. He pretended it was the movement of the bus, rather than being intentional. The vibration of the bus went through his hands, to shake her breasts. His friends thought it highly amusing. Her nipples were enjoying it too, as she could feel them stiffening up. 

She kept meaning to stand up to get away from him. Maybe it was just an excuse, though she really didn't think he would let her go without a struggle. She didn't want to make a scene, and didn't look forward to struggling in front of his friends. 

About to tell him she was, 'getting off', she choked on the phrase. She was heated up, but not so much as that. As the bus bounced over a rough patch of road, he tightened his arms around her, and turned his palms up under her breasts. 

'Be careful!' she said.

Meaning for him to let go of her breasts, the statement was far too subtle for a teenager. She felt weak and useless to have fallen into the clutches of a mere boy, and the will to free herself was diminishing with every little humiliation. Maybe she was aroused enough to orgasm. The vibration of the bus was almost enough, while she was so excited.

'You shouldn't be doing that! Please take your hands away,' Mohini crossly spoke.

There wasn't enough ferocity, or authority in her voice to motivate him. He was enjoying himself too much. So were his friends. They were clustered around watching the spectacle of her breasts being fondled. Every time the bus bounced her breasts did too, and he caught them. Again she figured this was the wrong time to wear a quarter cup bra.

At least there wasn't much he could do in public, while surrounded by his friends. 

Unless! A bad thought came to mind. She tried to ignore it, but with his cock pushing between her cheeks, the thought developed. If he let her stand up on this rough road, he might pass her to one of his friends, to steady her.

What if they passed her around, from one to the other, like pass the parcel? The dress was short, the bra almost non-existent, and the panties were insubstantial. Once the bravest of them took advantage, the others would become emboldened enough to join in. The dress could easily be peeled away, leaving her practically naked. Surrounded by so many hands, they couldn't all be fended off. Her whole body would be mauled by randy boys. 

Falling, and quickly caught, would leave her bent over. If he was bold enough, it would be easy to slip inside her aroused vagina. The others would be in a frenzy to have her. The thought of them fucking her, each taking a turn, sent a shiver down her spine. Some might not be able to wait, and decide to fuck her mouth.

The shocking thought stunned her. 



The thought of being treated worse than a whore, stoked her up to boiling point. The split up the back of the dress opened up, baring her bottom. With every bounce of the bus, she felt the lump in his jeans rubbing her bare cheeks. In a state of shock and excitement, she couldn't protest, or even move. No longer pretending, he was now openly massaging her breasts.



What could she say? 'Please stop playing with my tits! By the way, you can remove your penis from my bottom, young man.' 



It might be accurate, yet far too gross. 



She just sat there dumfounded, hoping her husband would notice what was happening, and perform a rescue. Surely the state of arousal showed on her face. She'd told him often enough how helpless she became when fully aroused. All he had to do was offer her a seat, or say this was their stop, and take her hand. The young guys would melt away from him. 



Karane had a big grin on his face, and it wasn't from the feel of her tits. He was dying to tell his friends what he was doing under the girl's dress. The feel of her ass cheeks pressing his cock was awesome. He was building the courage to pull his cock from his jeans. It would be easy to lift her onto his cock, and take her from behind. He hesitated, from not being sure if he could do it.



The door hissed open, and she longingly stared at the opening. A cool breeze caught the dress, blowing it up to expose stocking tops and suspenders. She quickly thanked him, making to rise off his lap. The door closed, but she carried on with the escape anyway. Thanking him again for his help, she pulled herself up by the pole. 



He said something about her being a pole dancer, which she ignored. It was somewhat true, as she had swung around the pole and exposed herself to him, then landed on his lap. As she lifted a leg over his to get away, the bus pulled up sharply. She hadn't timed it right, and as though in slow motion, she began to fall forward. 



Her cleavage landed on his face. She put both hands on his shoulders to push herself away. Before she could, his hand found her crotch, and squeezed. The young guy looked up at her, with a big satisfied smile on his face. 



On recognising who it was, his face dropped. He had in his hand a neighbour's crotch! Mrs Batliwala was a friend of his mother, and often dropped in to chat. He withdrew his hand, and tried to apologise, only the words stuck in his throat. Damn! He'd played with her tits, felt her crotch, and his cock had been pressing between her cheeks. A second look revealed that she was so very hot, really stoked. It didn't seem right to have sexed up his mom's friend.



Next time she came over to visit his mom, he would have to stay out of the way. It would be too embarrassing to see her at home. He'd treated his mother's friend like a slut of a girl. She was wearing sexy dress with sexier underwear. No wonder he didn't look at her face, and treated her like a sexy bitch. 



He noticed she was so sexed up, she didn't recognise him. 



What if she did recognise him? Wouldn't that put her in a difficult situation? It would be something she needed to keep a secret. It would be something he could hold over her. It wouldn't be blackmail, she would be doing him a favour, in return for keeping her secret. His thoughts turned to what he would like her to do, as a favour.



On tiptoe, Mohini desperately looked around the bus for her husband. It was only then she discovered being the only older person on the bus. She was surrounded by a bunch of rowdy young boys, intently studying her body. They were big and strong, and looked at her with an intense stare. 



The bus pulled up at traffic lights, and this time the side doors hissed open. Some of the boys turned away from her to see who was getting on. They parted to let a man through. Sudhir didn't have to barge his way in, they made room for him. 



'Come on, Mohini,' he heavily spoke. 



He grabbed her hand and eased her between the young guys. He recognised her musky smell, meaning her panties must be soaking wet. The dress was plastered between her cheeks, and he wondered what the guys had been doing to his wife. 



He became angry at them, and her. Whatever it was they had done, those boys had excited his wife. Why had she let it go that far with a bunch of eighteen year olds? In a temper, he was ready to push her back among them. Abandoning her in this state of arousal, could only have one result. 


Mohini realised her husband was there, and she was safe, so she relaxed. A fantasy fired her imagination.