[ WP ] Either tell us a true story from your own experience that slips into erotic fiction OR tell us a fake story that slips into a real sexual encounter you 've had . We 'll guess which you chose . [ NSFW ]

I was never really a fan of long bus rides; sitting in those uncomfortable seats, making awkward conversation, staring at the bland flatness of the Virginia coastal woodland rolling past at fifty for a few hours, all that jazz. Sure, some people are into it. You ’ ve got your nature fans and your extraverts, the people who ’ ll talk your ear off like it ’ s an Olympic sport. That ’ s not really me. Knowing how long this trip was going to be, I put in my headphones and loaded up some music, got as comfortable in the seat as I could, and prepared myself for another long drive into the vast boredom of the flat side of Virginia. 
 
 Somewhere between Pink Floyd and Alice in Chains, I noticed her. Nothing too special, really. I saw her get on the bus, and wrote her off as a six or low seven. Cliché and male, I know, but hell, I was a teenager. What more do you expect? Anyway, this girl, she ’ s looking at me with intent. Ever heard the term “ hungry eyes ”? That was her in a nutshell, my friend. She had a rather average face, was a bit pudgy, but with what had to have been double d ’ s. I smiled to her, and she slid into the seat beside me. I ’ ve never really been a hit with the ladies, but I as we started talking, I realized that this girl was different. Outside the window, the sun had all but disappeared behind the trees, painting the sky in streaks of red and purple, and I knew that it was time. A move must be made. 
 
 The kiss was deep and warm; she was skilled in it, but I wasn ’ t. She spent around a half hour teaching me, her hands creeping onto my neck and chest, exploring. My heartbeat was fast and loud, a drumroll in my veins. She gave coy little smiles and giggles in the dark, slipping her hands lower and lower until they found purchase bellow my belt. I closed my eyes and melted in her grip as she worked me with her hands, all the while with those little giggles. 
 
 Then, with the suddenness of a car crash, it was over. She left me hanging there, unfinished, as the bus rolled to a halt. She walked away with a piece of my heart that night, out into the distance of memory. I collected my things and used them to awkwardly hide myself until I made it to the sanctity of my house. I offloaded my stuff into my room and prepared to take a shower and finish what she started. Stripping down, however, I found one last surprise from her: my fleshy teenage love-stick and his two sidekicks were shining, shimmering, and reflecting light like the still waters of a lake. I was numb with shock and surprise; how did this happen? Why me? What cruel game was this girl playing at, doing such a thing to me? She gave me the glitterballs. Turned my junk into a set of disco balls, dangling and jangling with shiny abandon. 
 
 The shower was hot and thorough, but could not wash the stain from my soul. 

