Sexy girl on a bus Is she an enchantress a witch or a demon Erotic short story title illustration

The Girl On The Bus

Erotic Short Stories, Sex and the Supernatural, Sexy Stories

Is she an enchantress or a witch? Find out in this erotic short story.

The whole bus looked when she got on. Little old ladies stopped their gossiping, men gawked, housewives thought how their husbands would turn away from them, enthralled by the sight.

Her short skirt swayed slightly as the bus moved off. She made her way down the aisle, long legs stepping cautiously over shopping bags. Men slid across their seats, pressing themselves against cold windows, hoping to leave an enticing space on the bench next to them but she moved on.

“Is this seat taken?”

The hem of her skirt was almost level with the chrome seat back in front of me. The slender fingers of one hand, topped with scarlet nail varnish curled around the silver rail.

She slid onto the seat next to me without waiting for an answer. I could almost hear the thoughts of all of the men, a cacophony of, why him?

I stared at the backs of heads in front of me, the chatter had resumed, life had returned to the mundane for all but me. In the very edge of my vision her jacket was unbuttoned and her dark blouse swelled outward over perfect round spheres.

“Do you have a light?”

I turned my head, tried not to look down, and stared into her green eyes.

“You can’t smoke on the bus.” I could hear my voice quavering.

“I know, it’s for when we get off.”

I felt the warmth of her smile on my face.

“How do you know we are getting off at the same stop?”

Her deep eyes looked at me as if to say, Are you mad? The most beautiful woman has just propositioned you and that is all you can say.

The bus lurched around a corner, the motion pushing my shoulder against hers, my knuckles white as I gripped the bar at the top of the seat.

“This is my stop,” I said, rising very slightly.

“I know.” She stood up.

The bus doors folded shut behind us and she grabbed my hand. Her grip was tight and energy seemed to tingle up my arm from her touch.

“Come.” She pulled me across the street. I was forced to follow as she weaved between the traffic.

“But my flat is that way.” I tried to gesture over my shoulder.

She pulled me up a wide set of stone steps to a dark grey wooden door.

“This church is closed.” I looked up at the familiar grey facade. “It’s been declared unsafe. And it’s locked.”

“Yes, but it has not been desacralized.”

She grasped the iron door ring and closed her eyes as if concentrating. I could see her lips moving but could not hear the words.

I jumped back at the sound of locks sliding back but she gripped my hand fiercely. The door swung open and she pulled me inside.

The church smelt musty, cold and unused. The door swung closed behind us and I heard the lock click back into place.

She released my hand and I crossed myself before turning to look over my shoulder. There was no one there.

“You trained as a priest.”

She slipped off her jacket and dropped it onto one of the dusty pews.

“Yes, but I was never ordained.”

She kicked off her shoes and began to unbutton her blouse. She turned as she pulled it open and discarded it over another pew as she walked down the aisle.

I felt compelled to follow her naked shoulders, watching her perfect, smooth skin flexing as she moved.
I stopped half-way down the church. “I lost my faith.”

Her skirt and thong dropped to the floor. She turned toward me, tall, slim, her feet crossed as if stepping back toward me. Her whole body seemed to curve up from her legs over her narrow waist. Firm and muscular as if she had risen from the stone floor.

“I am here to bring you new faith.”

I felt the desire to run my hands over her, to feel the satin smoothness of her skin, pulsing in my fingertips.

Her breasts swelled out from her casting shadows onto the darker tanned flesh beneath them and her small, pink nipples summoned my lips.

I stepped forward and then stopped. The sight of her naked, offering herself to me was almost too much to bear.

“Are you an angel?

“No.”

“A demon then?”

“I am a woman.”

Her hands reached out toward me and she pushed off my jacket as she pulled me to her. Her mouth locked onto mine in a ferocious kiss as her fingers tore at my shirt and I felt her nails, like talons biting across my stomach to slide beneath my waistband.

My hands gripped the curves of her behind and her legs wrapped around me as I lifted her and sat her on the edge of the altar. My lips enveloped her nipple and I sucked at it as if to extract new life from it.

Our fingers met as we both tore at my belt, ripping open my flies and tearing down my boxers.
Her fingers wrapped around my shaft and pulled it toward her. I had been so transfixed by her that only a tiny part of my mind had registered that it was ramrod hard. Now desire flowed through me in a surging current and I plunged into her.

She felt as good as she looked. My whole mind centred on the column of my flesh inside her. It pulsed and I could hold my seed for no more than a few thrusts as it roared into her.

She howled, her mouth opened wide and I imagined, no saw, a beam of power rise toward the crucifix above us.

I could not stop my cock thrusting, pulsing, filling her.

Her body arched on the altar and more light seemed to fire from her eyes and fingertips. I looked down, her sex was glowing and felt the power that was flowing into me through my flesh.

Then she flopped down limp onto the altar and the beams disappeared as if sucked back into her body.

“What are you?” I asked, still deep inside her. Her muscles seemed to be gripping my erection, locking us together.

Slowly it faded and I slipped from her.

“I told you, I am a woman,” she smiled, “And an enchantress.”

“You mean a witch.” I straightened up and stepped back.

“I mean you no harm.” She moved close and her hand curled around behind my head. “You and I are now united, joined in the ethereal world. To hurt you would be to hurt myself.

She kissed me, lightly this time. I felt my desire stir again.

“You have no idea what power is released in me by being fucked by a priest on the altar.”

“I am not a priest.”

“You’ll do.” She slid from the altar, turned and bent forward, grabbing my rapidly hardening cock as she did so and dragging me back into her.”

Just in case you were wondering. Later we stood on the steps of the church and I rummaged in my pockets for a long forgotten lighter. I held it out to her.

“I don’t smoke,” she smiled.

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