I keep my head facing the front of the bus making sure nobody turns around to see me. Slim, cool hands slide up to the growing bulge in my jeans and ...he squeezes my length. I thrust my hips into her hand and she takes this as a signal to rub. Long, hard strokes make my thick cock stand to attention and push at the zip as if begging for an escape. My eyes roll back into my head as she slips beneath the fabric and wraps her hand around my throbbing dick. I have to bite my lip to stop a moan. He was sitting in the circle like the other young people but, somehow, even when surrounded by exuberant youth, he managed to be alone. Nobody was consciously trying to exclude him. The banter simply slipped past him because he made no attempt to respond. The smiles and laughter rolled off him without leaving a trace. When he did smile, he was never synchronized with the others. When someone made a subtle joke, his quick mind caught it before anyone else and his smile came too early, or when. “Sorry I couldn’t find it. Can you come some other time?” I asked him. When he turned to leave his eyes feel on my wet panties on the bed. I felt embarrassed and looked back at him. I knew he is a good guy yet situation could do anything to a man. Slowly he took a step and walked towards me. I stood still my mind racing of what to react next. But surprisingly I didn’t protest when his hands touched my waist. He held my hips and lifted me up in one swift motion. I clung to his neck tightly for. We can take a bubble cab.”--””—His CITI identified him as Elon Rimmer. He managed to convince the Union Police officers that cam aboard the bus, that he had no connection to the dead man in seat 188-03 right next to him.The first responders of the spaceport clinic confirmed the death of Barton Smolk and preliminary examinations pointed to the delayed reaction to a Bonglee sting. He had been questioned while scanned by a Poly Analyzer. His statement had been accepted and he was allowed to leave.