THE ITCH
Mason has a new routine, just the same as if he was swimming. However, it does involve getting his favorite student very rumpled before school.
content warning. Chikan, groping, molestation, noncon-dubcon (depends), asshole mason, unreliable narrator, victim blaming, past sexual abuse, public, exhibitionism, public sex. 2.2k words.
Mason has to wake up early to satiate this particular itch. A feeling not unlike his need to do his laps in the pond, to enjoy the rain hitting the water around him. Disrupting the calm. Causing ripples.
He has to make sure his timing is right, so he has it all down to a second. Double knots his trainers, pulls his hood up on the old ratty jacket he dug out from his moving boxes. Has 25 seconds till the bus wheezes along so adjusts his face mask and doubles checks his sports bag to make sure he has everything he needs for the day before zipping it closed. 11 seconds. Quick pat down for his keys both for his door and his locker, and he was off.
The excitement lurked in his stomach, long since unhindered by what had remained of Mason's morality, his conscious. There was a time when Mason would have to chant to himself that this time would be the last one, just one more before quitting altogether and living on, as his best self. But of course during the weekends he would get the itch again and by Sunday he was triple checking bus schedules.
As he watched the bus get closer, pelted by the morning rain, Mason breathed in the cool air, enjoying the feeling of it filling his lunge, settling him happily. Though there wasn't much to settle about. A couple of months ago, he'd be using the time to shift his weight from foot to foot, glance at his apartment building as if there was a reason waiting there for him to scurry back in and miss the bus.
But not anymore. The bus pulled up and the squeaky doors shook open and without a backwards glance, Mason was inside, navigating his way carefully.
He did appreciate that you would go to school so early. No doubt to sneak in through the park and do some extra work or something. Honestly, despite his status as a teacher, he didn't care, not anymore. In fact what he cared most about right now was where you... There.
At the back of the partially full bus, squished in the corner and looking out the window, totally in your own world. Good. Didn't even notice when Mason slumped into the seat next to you, keeping his sport bag on his lap to hide the fact he was already getting hard, just from the anticipation.
You smelled good. It was always hard to tell at school, since he could only get close to you after you had been dunked in chlorine water, but this way he got to breath you in, loud and shaky, like some old pervert.
But you didn't mind dirty perverts did you?
Not since Mason had to grab the bus instead of just walking to the school, a sore ankle hindering his usual brisk pace. The bus had been cramped, humid, strange for an early morning, but Mason found himself a seat, right at the front, a commuter taking pity on the way he had been limping. Then he saw you. Mason must have brushed right past you. You were facing away, clinging to the hand rail as the bus lurched. Mason wondered if he should call out to you or not. Maybe he could catch up to you when you both get off for the school, and have a chat when heading for the school. He smiled a bit to himself before looking back at you, and freezing. A much older woman was standing far too close to you. Manicured fingers shaking as they reached out to caress your ass, hidden behind the school uniform. Her nails lightly pinched your behind and you froze up, nervously shifting as the woman's hand lavished your ass with attention, kneading and cupping.
Mason should've got up and pushed her away, maybe even pulled you over and gave the woman a lecture she would never forget. But he couldn't move, feet and mouth frozen, eyes trained on the way your waistband was being tugged away from your skin, letting the school shirt flutter out and exposing an attractive sliver of your skin.
Maybe that's what had formed this nasty little habit of his, Mason thought as he shifted closer to you in the bus, rain lashing against the windows and you still daydreaming. The way that mystery woman had snuck her hand into your clothes and was openly groping you. You enjoyed it, he could tell. All that pretending to pull away and that dumb resigned look on your face. You needed this.
He needed this.
Mason got comfortable, face mask starting to get clammy against his face from his breathing. Lucky for him it was Flu Season, no one would give him another look. He dug his erection against the sports bag, just for some friction before focusing on the matter at hand. He turned a tad bit more towards you, so his knees were barely touching yours. Cute game you were blaming, pretending to not notice the stranger gearing up to start playing with you. No doubt you're just as excited as he is.
His hand used to shake before reaching out, used to take a moment to think about touching you, but hesitation was gone. Confident, forward, someone who knew what he wanted.
You started just a bit as his hand slipped between your legs, just holding your thigh at first, like a lover. Thumb slowly drawing circles against the fabric covering your leg. You gave the "stranger" a nervous glance before leaning more towards the window, making your discomfort as visible as possible, but you knew this town. These days, you just had to not move and the pervert would piss off, so you continued staring out, ignoring the hand.
And so the game begins.
Mason lets you think this is all he wants. Just some human contact. He continues his torturously slow caressing, enjoying the warmth between you two. He does count himself lucky that you can never bring yourself to look at your molester properly. His hood and mask obscure his face quite well but he didn't want to take any bets.
The bus slowed to a halt, traffic getting increasingly bad in the rain, and Mason finally took the plunge, shifting his hand further up to cup your crotch properly. That cute gasp was really doing it for him too. His greedy fingers began to massage your genitals, leaning in closer to hear your soft noises, the moans and sighs fought back with all your best efforts. Silly.
He was dying to whisper filth into your ear, but then you would recognize him, and that's the last thing he needed. But god, it was hard. Needed you to know that he knew you wanted this, was gagging to be touched up by all sorts of strangers, that you needed his wandering hands, that you only took the bus because you knew you'd be molested good and proper before trotting off to school.
Mason's cock gave an throb, all your squirming going right to his gut. He hooked a finger into your curled up fists, loosening your fingers just to bring them over to his lap. Cupping your hand, he began to fondle his erection with your hand, breathing kicking up a notch. You tried to yank your hand back but Mason tightened his grip. Your games were cute, but this should be around the time you finally dropped the act.
You felt his heavy cock throb incessantly against your palm, the rush of blood clear despite the tracksuit bottoms that covered his erection. His own hand was... Was too good. Experienced, greedy. You had a feeling it was Tracksuit again. The one guy who would come onto the bus twice or three times a week and immediately hone in on you. He had never been this aggressive before though, usually sticking to touching you over your school clothes. There was an air of impatience around him.
His fingers began to pry at your waistband, despite your squirms. He was going way too far this time!
At the front of the bus, the doors swung open and a few people filtered out and you lunged forward, away from Tracksuit, planning to get out a few stops early just to escape. You caught the bus driver's eye but just before you could make your way down the bus, he was on you again. Pinned against the pole, metal squished uncomfortably against your body, hurting you. His hands enveloped your wrists, pinning them to the top of the bus seat, as the pole pressed against your sternum unpleasantly.
You twisted your head to look back towards the driver, meeting his eyes in the mirror reflecting the rest of the bus. He was the only one to notice the scuffle in the backseats, he was your only way out!
With a slow blink, he closed the bus doors and the vehicle lurched forward. The bus driver's gaze flicked back towards the mirror and his eyes tightened in a slow smile.
You could barely take time to feel your despair, as Tracksuit was tugging at your waistband again, pulling it down to reveal enough of you for you to be humiliated if anyone looked over their shoulder.
Mason took one hand off your wrists, quickly unzipping the front of his trousers before pining your hands again. Now, wasn't this just a fucking spanner in the works.
What he wanted to do, was treat you nice. Tug you onto his lap and have you shudder and bounce on his cock until you both came, then he could get off one stop after the school. He would have played with you, fingered you until you cried, maybe get a better look at what was under that shirt of yours. Honestly, you had only yourself to blame for this.
His hard cock nudged against your exposed thighs, waistband trapping them together. The wet cockhead trailed across your skin, leaving a trail of precum, before forcibly pressing in-between your thighs. Mason's entire cock was wedged in-between your legs, curving against your crotch, pressed uncomfortably against your genitals. You had one mercy, that at this angle he wouldn't be able to press into you but the relief was short lived.
Mason buried his nose into your neck and began to thrust, not caring about the increasingly loud pap pap of his skin hitting yours. His cock was already drooling precum alarmingly, sticking to your thighs unpleasantly. Horrifyingly, the friction was causing a low heat to start curdling in your gut, being stimulated as he was trying to find his own end.
You pressed your cheek harder against the cold pole, breathing irregular, the burning gaze of the bus driver flicking off the road every now and then to stare at the display, your thighs and underwear on clear display as this man rutted against you.
The precum was soaking your underwear, making them cling to your most sensitive parts, allowing him to press even closer, as if he wanted nothing more than to sink deep into you and use you as a sex toy. But you were, weren't you?
One of his hands abandoned its post against your wrists, instead gripping your hip to move your body in tandem with his thrusts. The feeling of your shaking thighs grinding against his crotch was getting too much, your entire body so pliable and warm for him.
Mason barely had time to wonder if he could have you stay behind after swim class that day, indulging briefly in the fantasy of fucking you in the water just like this again, before grunting and cumming while his cockhead was trapped in-between the soft of your thighs.
Cum spilled from between your thighs, dripping into your underwear, spattered across your school uniform. It was nauseatingly hot and thick, sticky. Tracksuit struggled to catch his breath, putting most of his weight on you for a few seconds before straightening up, bumping his masked face against your temple as if in a kiss.
The bus slowly approached the school stop and the stranger grasped at your legs for a moment before gripping your waistband, tugging it back up. Mason finally noticed the driver's curious looks and was glaring towards the front of the bus, absent mindedly tucking your shirt in for you before collapsing on the seats behind him. You stayed clinging to the pole, his mess smeared all over your thighs and now trapped against your body, before stumbling off the bus when the doors squeaked open.
The bus driver began to say something but you were already on the sidewalk, skittering towards the gates. The doors shut again.
Mason pulled his hood back, as well as his mask, sweat dripping down his neck and forehead. He allowed himself a few pants before finally tucking his cum streaked cock away.
For now, the itch was satiated.
At one point Mason would have worried how long would it take to grow in appetite, not satiated by simple gropes, but now? Now, Mason was looking forward to the day when instead of having to get up early to get his kicks, he would just be going home late. He could practically taste the days of fucking you against the side of the pool, and as Mason slowly stood to get off at the next stop, he personally couldn't wait till sleep in a bit longer.
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Kofi
