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My virgin cunt was sopping wet, but still he could barely penetrate it, no matter how hard he pushed. I sucked at my lip to help stifle a yelp as the alien pressure of one firm, unyielding finger probed and prodded my stubborn flesh. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I've never..."

"Never?" He sounded surprised, but concerned as well. "Then, are you sure..."

"Oh my God, yes...." I bit his shoulder through the cloth of his shirt, and winced as I felt the forceful entry of his middle knuckle. He withdrew a little, then pushed again, sliding in the slickness that flowed from my pussy... a pussy that felt as though it must be yawning wide for his favors, but which remained chokingly tight. A one inch peg in a half-inch hole....

Imperceptibly, I felt him sink a little deeper, and I gasped for him to "do that again." He did - once, twice, three times. But then I felt his finger disengage, the faint plop as my wet walls released their hold, the gently electricity as he started to swirl around my outer lips... and then, a sensation so vivid that I swear I heard the "twang," even as I felt it.

This time I did squeak, and I saw heads turn around us, startled out of their own private reveries by the sound. He smiled and placed his free hand over my mouth. "Hush! You'll get us thrown off the bus."

I giggled behind his fingers; then gasped again as he did it once more. "Twang."

"What on earth..." I knew what he was doing, of course... even a virgin knows where her clitoris is. What I didn't understand was how. Finger and fuck, those were the cardinal rules of teenaged sex; and everything I'd gleaned from those girlfriends who done either of them convinced me that one was much the same as the other - the thing went in, it pushed itself around, and then it stopped. The idea that it might seek out other places, other pleasures... and pluck them with a dexterity that I imagined was my private secret alone... had never crossed my mind.

I sunk my teeth again into his shoulder, braved myself for the next soul-stirring surge; then kept on bracing myself, as his initially tentative strokes grew firmer, faster. He was playing me like a guitar, and my entire body was paralyzed around the sensations, the screaming immensity of every nerve-ending standing to attention, blazing and bristling out of my loins, until my entire being was tensed so taut that the slightest movement, the merest motion... "Twang."

His free hand was on my mouth again, pressing between my lips so that my teeth burrowed into the flesh... but even that could not completely muffle my yelps. Again I was conscious of people glancing round at us, but let them... "oh - oh - oh - oh"; something was happening... oh my God, it was happening... his finger was moving faster now, positively vibrating my clitoris, and I... was... cummmmming!

His hand pushed deeper into my mouth, taking the full strength of my teeth against the flesh around his thumb; I fought to control the cry that built up so deep within me that even I could not guess at its source... and still it came out, in a gurgled, strangled, sobbing roar.

"Is she alright back there?" A voice sailed over from some way down the bus. "Yes," Bryan answered. "Just feeling a little travel sick. She should be okay in a moment...."

I felt the pressure fading, the urge to bite lessening, the incredible, unbearable tension slowly relaxing, ebbing away to be replaced by a heavy warmth that left me tingling all over... and kept on tingling, as we finally disentangled ourselves from one another, and I fell back against the seat, completely exhausted, utterly drained.

Outside, the countryside was still racing past the Greyhound window, but inside... inside my own body... entire universes were ricocheting past and into one another. I turned to look at Bryan, the beautiful, sensitive, and so-loving man whom I'd never even seen a few hours before, and laughed. "Remember the first thing you ever asked me, when we first got on the bus?"

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