Three Fingers and a Crowded Bus – How My Ex Made Me Moan in Public

I still remember that bus ride like it was yesterday—the sticky vinyl seats, the hum of the engine, and him, my then-boyband, Javier, with those devilish hands that never played by the rules.

We were heading back from the beach, sand still clinging to our skin, the salty breeze tangled in my hair. I was wearing that stupidly tight sundress, the one with the tiny straps that barely held my tits in, and Javier? Pfft. He’d been eyeing me like a starving man since we boarded.

“Mi amor, you’re gonna get us arrested,” I whispered, giggling as his fingers traced my thigh under the hem of my dress.

The bus was packed—abuelas with grocery bags, kids kicking seats, some dude snoring two rows back—but Javier didn’t give a fuck. His hand slid higher, calloused fingertips brushing my inner thigh. “Ay, Cristina,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re already wet.”

I bit my lip. He wasn’t wrong. The way his thumb circled over the thin fabric of my panties? Chévere and cruel.

Then—bold as hell—he hooked a finger under the lace and dragged them to the side. My breath hitched. “Javier, coño—”

“Shhh,” he teased, nipping my earlobe. “Don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

The first finger slipped in easy. I was dripping, my cuca throbbing just from the tease of it. I clenched around him, my nails digging into his forearm. “Dios mío—”

He chuckled, low and dirty. “That’s one.”

Then came the second.

My hips jerked. The bus hit a pothole, jostling us, and the sudden movement made him crook his fingers just right. A whimper crawled up my throat. “Javier… pana…” I hissed, squeezing my thighs together.

“Relájate,” he purred, scissoring them slowly. “You love this.”

I did. Mierda, I loved it. The risk, the heat, the way his free hand gripped my waist to keep me still while his fingers worked me open. The bus seats squeaked. Someone’s kid whined about being hungry. And me? I was fighting not to revirar los ojos right there in public.

Then—madre mía—he added the third.

“Fuck!” I choked out, my back arching. It was too much and not enough, the stretch burning sweet as he pumped into me, his thumb circling my clit in rough, lazy strokes.

“You gonna come?” he taunted, lips grazing my neck. “Right here? With all these people?”

I couldn’t answer. My thighs trembled, my moan trapped behind clenched teeth. The pressure coiled tighter, tighter—

The bus lurched again.

“Sí, sí, SÍ—”

I came hard, my cuca pulsing around his fingers, my vision whiting out for one reckless second. Javier held me up, his smirk against my temple as I shuddered. “That’s my girl.”

By the time I floated back to earth, some old lady was side-eyeing us. Javier just winked and pulled his hand free, glistening and smug. “Next time,” he whispered, “we’re doing this in a church.”

I smacked his chest, laughing breathlessly. “Hijo de puta.”