9:38 a.m. - 2011-10-21
Coach Travel
The coach journey from Plymouth to London takes several hours even when the motorway system is used but Sandra and I were well prepared; I had brought the 600 page paperback book of Russian history that I was less than halfway through whilst Sandra�s addiction to puzzles was catered for with three different publications. I had the window seat � at Sandra�s insistence � and we settled down to enjoy a very lazy couple of days away from our men. It has been gloriously sunny over the last few weeks so we were both anticipating a wonderful shopping trip in our Capital city.

We had only been on the first motorway for a few minutes when Sandra�s hand dropped into my lap and started to gather up the material of my skirt. I hadn�t been expecting this but after all these years my submissive conditioning was such that I made no attempt to stop her although I quickly peeped over the top of the seat in front of me to ascertain the degree of danger of being caught. Gazing around quickly I was relieved to notice that the coach was only about a quarter full.

Literally within seconds my skirt was bunched up over my tummy and Sandra whispered into my ear, �take them off, quickly, quickly!� Swallowing hard I removed my thong and, in my haste, got them caught around the heels of my shoes. Having disentangling them I straightened up and had the thong snatched from my hand and I watched them disappear into the depths of bag. With what I would call a huge display of impatience she none-too-gently slapped my thighs, indicating that she wanted me to spread my legs apart for her and I had to pray that nobody was about to pass us, en route for the lavatory that was situated at the rear of the coach.

When in this kind of situation my senses are heightened somewhat and the first thing I noticed was that there seemed to be thousands of fast-moving lorries overtaking us and their drivers, from their high vantage points, would have quite a clear view of proceedings should they happen to glance through our massive windows.

However, Sandra was a long way from being finished with me and, telling me in a hoarse voice to masturbate with both hands � vaginally and clitoral � she fumbled with the buttons of my blouse until my already-braless breasts were exposed. She pulled the blouse from my shoulders and teased my nipples with her fingers and I cannot deny that another of my senses � my sense of arousal � was by now very acute. The danger of being caught was, as is always the case with me, secondary to my immediate feelings of increasing sexual pleasure.

From her bag she produced a pair of the cruellest nipple clamps I had seen for a long time and her eyes were positively shining as she squeezed each one in turn and let them enclose my nipples. My heavens, they really hurt; they really, really did hurt.

My fingers, I admit, slowed right down as the pain blotted out most of my other senses, including my ability to obey but at the time Sandra didn�t notice because she was busy with something else that distracted her attention away from my lazy masturbation efforts. She was waving at something out of the window and when it occurred to me to look I blushed from head to toes. She had caught the attention of one of those huge-rig drivers in the next lane and for what seemed like an eternity he slowed down enough to keep me in view.

Sandra even grasped my right breast and squeezed to emphasise my position. Eventually the driver gave Sandra a thumbs-up signal, laughed and honked his horn before accelerating away.

Thankfully the clamps were removed after a few minutes but that was long enough I assure you. My nipples were a deep purple until the next day. However, my embarrassment was to continue on and off for the remainder of the trip as I was exposed to a countless stream of lorry drivers. I did voice my concern that an accident could have occurred but I didn�t say anything until we were safely in London. I have been in trouble before for what Dean or DJ took as a degree of non-compliance even though there had sometimes been what I perceived to be good reason for my concerns. Thankfully nothing untoward happened but at least she didn�t attract any third-party attention on our return trip although she certainly had me semi-naked once more.

Of course, in truth, my exhibitionist streak can also get in the way of what should constitute common sense so I cannot entirely put the blame of recklessness on Sandra.

But yes, it was still all her fault, not mine. I�m a good girl.

Sort of.

Mostly.

~~redsilk~~

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