30-07-2026, 07:23 AM
A few days after the gathering, Nicki mentioned she had an interview downtown. Neha asked if I could accompany her since I was heading in the same direction for work. I agreed without hesitation—too quickly, probably. But the thought of spending time alone with Nicki, even in a public setting, sent a quiet thrill through me that I didn't want to examine too closely.
The morning bus was packed. Not just crowded—*stuffed*. Bodies pressed against bodies, hands gripping overhead rails, the stale smell of sweat and diesel thick in the air. Nicki climbed in ahead of me, wearing that damn short tight t-shirt again—pale yellow this time, hugging her torso and leaving her arms completely bare from the shoulders down. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and tiny gold earrings glinted at her earlobes. She looked fresh, radiant, unbearably touchable.
The bus lurched forward before we could find a proper footing. The crowd shifted, and Nicki was pushed backward—directly into me. Her shoulder blades pressed against my chest, and I felt the warmth of her bare arms graze my forearms. The contact sent a jolt through me that settled low in my belly.
"Sorry, uncle," she murmured, glancing up at me with those sexy eyes, a sheepish smile tugging at her kissable lips. "This bus is insane."
"It's fine," I managed, my voice steadier than I felt.
The bus hit a pothole, and the entire mass of passengers swayed. Nicki stumbled, and her ass pressed firmly against my thigh—round, soft, impossibly warm even through the thin fabric of her jeans. My breath caught. I gripped the overhead rail with one hand and placed the other lightly on her shoulder to steady her, feeling the smooth, bare skin beneath my palm. She didn't flinch. She didn't move away. She just settled there, her body fitting against mine like a puzzle piece finding its place.
Every nerve in my body was on fire.
The bus jolted again, and her thighs pressed tighter against mine. I could feel the shape of her—soft, full, the curve of her hip brushing my side with every bump. Her bare arm was right there, inches from my face, and I could smell the faint vanilla of her lotion mixed with the natural warmth of her skin. I swallowed hard, my throat tight.
And then I felt it. The unmistakable stirring in my pants. My cock was waking up, thickening against my will, pressing against the confines of my trousers. I shifted my hips back slightly, desperate to create space, but there was nowhere to go. The crowd behind me was a wall of bodies, and Nicki was right there in front of me, her ass nestled against my upper thigh.
*Don't.* I commanded myself. *Not here. Not now.*
But the bus had other plans. Another lurch, another bump, and she pressed harder against me. This time, the round softness of her ass made contact with the growing hardness in my pants, and my heart nearly stopped. I held my breath, waiting for her to stiffen, to turn, to say something. But she didn't. Either she hadn't noticed, or... or she had, and she was choosing not to acknowledge it.
I didn't know which possibility was worse.
"Uncle, are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft, her head tilting slightly. I could see the curve of her cheek, the long lashes, the way her lips parted with concern.
"Fine," I said, too quickly. "Just trying not to fall over."
She laughed softly—that same light, musical laugh from the family gathering—and the sound vibrated through her body into mine. I closed my eyes briefly, gripping the rail until my knuckles ached. My pulse was a drumbeat in my ears, and the guilt was already creeping in, tangling with the intoxicating warmth of her body against mine.
I stole a glance downward. The neckline of her t-shirt gaped slightly with the angle, and I caught a glimpse of the soft swell of her cleavage—milky white, the faint shadow of her bra. I looked away immediately, jaw clenched, but the image was already seared behind my eyelids.
The bus swayed again. Her thigh pressed tighter. My cock strained harder. And I stood there, trapped between shame and desire, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling the heat of her skin, praying she couldn't feel what she was doing to me.
Or maybe, in the darkest corner of my mind, hoping she could.
The morning bus was packed. Not just crowded—*stuffed*. Bodies pressed against bodies, hands gripping overhead rails, the stale smell of sweat and diesel thick in the air. Nicki climbed in ahead of me, wearing that damn short tight t-shirt again—pale yellow this time, hugging her torso and leaving her arms completely bare from the shoulders down. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and tiny gold earrings glinted at her earlobes. She looked fresh, radiant, unbearably touchable.
The bus lurched forward before we could find a proper footing. The crowd shifted, and Nicki was pushed backward—directly into me. Her shoulder blades pressed against my chest, and I felt the warmth of her bare arms graze my forearms. The contact sent a jolt through me that settled low in my belly.
"Sorry, uncle," she murmured, glancing up at me with those sexy eyes, a sheepish smile tugging at her kissable lips. "This bus is insane."
"It's fine," I managed, my voice steadier than I felt.
The bus hit a pothole, and the entire mass of passengers swayed. Nicki stumbled, and her ass pressed firmly against my thigh—round, soft, impossibly warm even through the thin fabric of her jeans. My breath caught. I gripped the overhead rail with one hand and placed the other lightly on her shoulder to steady her, feeling the smooth, bare skin beneath my palm. She didn't flinch. She didn't move away. She just settled there, her body fitting against mine like a puzzle piece finding its place.
Every nerve in my body was on fire.
The bus jolted again, and her thighs pressed tighter against mine. I could feel the shape of her—soft, full, the curve of her hip brushing my side with every bump. Her bare arm was right there, inches from my face, and I could smell the faint vanilla of her lotion mixed with the natural warmth of her skin. I swallowed hard, my throat tight.
And then I felt it. The unmistakable stirring in my pants. My cock was waking up, thickening against my will, pressing against the confines of my trousers. I shifted my hips back slightly, desperate to create space, but there was nowhere to go. The crowd behind me was a wall of bodies, and Nicki was right there in front of me, her ass nestled against my upper thigh.
*Don't.* I commanded myself. *Not here. Not now.*
But the bus had other plans. Another lurch, another bump, and she pressed harder against me. This time, the round softness of her ass made contact with the growing hardness in my pants, and my heart nearly stopped. I held my breath, waiting for her to stiffen, to turn, to say something. But she didn't. Either she hadn't noticed, or... or she had, and she was choosing not to acknowledge it.
I didn't know which possibility was worse.
"Uncle, are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft, her head tilting slightly. I could see the curve of her cheek, the long lashes, the way her lips parted with concern.
"Fine," I said, too quickly. "Just trying not to fall over."
She laughed softly—that same light, musical laugh from the family gathering—and the sound vibrated through her body into mine. I closed my eyes briefly, gripping the rail until my knuckles ached. My pulse was a drumbeat in my ears, and the guilt was already creeping in, tangling with the intoxicating warmth of her body against mine.
I stole a glance downward. The neckline of her t-shirt gaped slightly with the angle, and I caught a glimpse of the soft swell of her cleavage—milky white, the faint shadow of her bra. I looked away immediately, jaw clenched, but the image was already seared behind my eyelids.
The bus swayed again. Her thigh pressed tighter. My cock strained harder. And I stood there, trapped between shame and desire, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling the heat of her skin, praying she couldn't feel what she was doing to me.
Or maybe, in the darkest corner of my mind, hoping she could.
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