“I always imagine her face in orgasm,” I said to my good old friend at the bar of our favorite Irish pub “while I jerk off! I wonder if that’s what they call love!”

“Love?! Not so fast,” responded my friend mockingly, “my favorite porn is seeing faces of women in real orgasm! Oh, that makes me explode every time!”

“That’s different, Scott!” I protested “you see many faces in a quick sequence and that doesn’t mean anything to me, well, not always!” I leaned forward and stressed, “as I said, I don’t see, I imagine ... and not many faces, just one, hers.”

“Fine!” conceded Scott, “so what’s so special about ... her? She must be so hot, I bet most other men would imagine all sorts of things about her hehehehe”.

“No!” I was surprised at how quickly I responded to that, “well, to me she’s so gorgeous but to other men in the bus, they don’t even turn their fuckin heads, not even when she wears those torn pants in summer.”

“Torn pants?!” exclaimed Scott, “how torn? Why torn? How much skin do you see? Man, I want to ride that bus!” Scott was clearly getting excited. He was gulping his pint of Guinness and becoming louder. Two other women were sitting nearby on the bar and could notice his sudden surge of energy.

“It’s now winter, Scott, she doesn’t wear those torn pants in winter, she’d freeze!” I said, “I guess torn pants is the fashion among young girls in this day and age.”

“YOUNG?!” Scott got even more excited, “HOW YOUNG?! HOW MUCH SKIN? COME ON SPELL IT ALREADY!!” For a moment, I felt a bit embarrassed but I also felt good, so I continued.

“One time, I saw her panties” I replied, “it was rather thong! It was red, sooooo red!”

“WHAT?!” Scott jumped out of his seat and almost fell from the stool. And with a drooling mouth begged, “describe ... describe ... describe ... please ... please ... please... “. Just to shut him up, I began to let my memories come out aloud. I was talking as I was remembering these moments: “that one fine morning, she rode the bus, sat in her usual chair, facing me, she was wearing torn pants, so torn, I could see the twists and turns of her sexy white legs. She knew I’ve been looking at her. She enjoys my indirect looks. She sat in a way that let the torn pants reveal as much skin as possible. I saw her thong. I even saw a few strands of pubic hair. My cock grew so hard, I felt pain.” As I continued remembering and talking, I began to feel the sensations of pleasure in my penis and feeling it getting erection, “And then I’d always imagine that all the other passengers in the bus just disappear except for the two of us, that I’d stand up, move across the aisle, sit beside her and let my hand reach to the torn part of her pants. I’d imagine my hands reaching out to that part of her skin which appears from her torn pants. I’d imagine touching that skin ... caressing ... squeezing ... pinching ... Oh, it must feel so soft, so smooth, so juicy. And then, I’d go deeper with my hand, inside her torn pants, slowly towards her most private part, and with my finger, I’d feel the fabric of her thong, I’d find it so oily, I’d go up and down so slowly, feeling the skin on the sides, I’d notice her breathing getting heavier, I’d feel her vagina pushing against my finger, wanting more, I’d see her eyes begging me to continue, begging me to let my fingers go underneath her thong, but I wouldn’t, I’d decide to push my finger further below, past her vagina, all the way to her...” Suddenly, Scott began to choke uncontrollably. I hit his back hard to help him clear his throat. “Are you OK?” I asked with worry and concern. After clearing his air tubes, he said “Fuck John, you made me choke! Your fucking story is so amazing, I’ve never experienced such excitement before. I’m not even sure how I can find something like that in any porn!”

“To you, everything is porn!” I chuckled.

The dialogue continued between us after he had recovered from his choke and calmed down. He began by asking: So, did you speak with her?

No, not really, just hello, hi, good morning, that’s it.

Do you think she has a boyfriend?

No, I don’t think so.

How can you tell?

I can tell from the way she carries herself. She’s kinda shy, to herself, not so confident and not so emotional with her cell phone What do you mean by “not so emotional with her cell phone”?

You know, people who are texting with their significant others are usually tense. She never looked tense, she just scrolls and scrolls, most probably Facebook or Playlists.

How long you’ve been seeing her on the bus?

Oh, years but only recently I’ve been noticing her and fantasizing about her And you are sure she’s noticed that and she’s enjoying your indirect looks?

Oh yes. When she doesn’t wear torn pants, I don’t pay much attention. When she does, I make sure she notices that I am noticing but without starring, do you know what mean?

Oh, yes and that’s so fuckin complicated! So, do me a favor and just talk with her already?

I don’t know. I’m knida enjoying this set up.

Or maybe you just don’t have the balls!

Balls? What balls?!

I mean you don’t know how to approach her. You are not good with ice breakers.

Ok maybe so ... what do you propose?

Just fuckin talk to her, just say hello, I’m John, what’s your name, so on and so forth NO! That’s too creepy!

Do you want to stalk her and find out where she goes so that you plan an “accidental” bump?

That sounds better.