The next ride is free.

There was a time when I often used minibuses. I worked in two cities. Naturally, you start to recognize the drivers by sight.

— Hello, dear girl. — A middle-aged, silver-haired man greeted me. His eyes sparkled, and his mouth stretched into a friendly smile.

— Good afternoon. May I sit in the front seat? — I smiled.

— Of course you may. Why not?! — he opened the door for me and slammed it shut when I sat down. I called my boyfriend, letting him know I'd be leaving soon, flipped through my planner, made a couple of notes, checked the time. There were a few minutes left.

The driver sat in his seat and looked back

into the cabin:

— You can pass the fare, and we'll go (yes, they still do side jobs like this here).

I also took out the required amount and wanted to hand it over.

— You want to pay too? — the man feigned surprise and smiled slyly. — Whoever rides in the front seat doesn't pay. You know that...

— Well, okay. — I agreed and put the money away.

I knew about this unwritten rule but never used it. He liked to talk on the road, and I liked to nap. I didn't sleep well at night, and these constant trips were exhausting. But this time, I decided to try it. I hadn't kept two of his business cards for nothing, on the back of which he had written in his own hand: "Next ride free." Yes, and a couple hundred extra rubles wouldn't hurt.

— So, how are you doing? — he started the conversation, starting the engine and pulling out onto the road.

— Everything's fine.

— Haven't seen you in a while.

— Oh. I don't always ride with you. Sometimes I get other drivers.

— Why would you do that? Don't do that. I might even get offended, — he winked, I smiled, — You should ride with me, I give you a discount.

— Well, it just happens that way. — I said in a guilty voice. He slowed down at a stop and picked up a woman; there were no seats in the cabin, so she opened the door to the cab.

"Oh, damn!" — I thought with annoyance and moved to the adjacent seat, right next to the driver. I suddenly felt hot and, taking off my jacket, placed it on my lap. I put my bag above the glove compartment, deciding that since we were old acquaintances, I could make myself at home.

The minibus started moving. The woman turned out to be surprisingly talkative. So she occupied the driver with conversation, and I stayed silent. They joked periodically, and I smiled. At some point, apparently deciding I was bored, the man started addressing me with phrases like:

— No, did you hear that? — he laughed and touched my leg with his hand.

I nodded, attributing it all to his cheerfulness, and paid no attention. After all, my jacket was on my lap, so he was touching that.

— Thank you for the ride. — The woman said and got out, paying the fare.

— Well, shall we go on? — the driver winked at me. We were in an intermediate settlement.

— Yeah. — I nodded.

— She talked so much. My head even started to ache! — He braked at a traffic light and looked at me. — And you're silent again.

He lowered his hand and touched my leg again. Not placing his palm on the jacket, but slipping under it and stroking my leg itself.

I flinched. And hurried to sit in a free seat farther from him.

— Well, what's wrong? — He said with an innocent look. — Sit closer.

— I'm comfortable here. — I stared at my phone with a serious expression.

We drove on.

— Free rides don't apply to those sitting by the door. — I remained silent, calculating how much longer the ride was. It was about 20 minutes to the city.

— Don't be offended. Sit closer. — He patted the free seat with his hand. And he said it as if it were the most normal thing. My brain refused to analyze the situation. Yes, I wanted a free ride, naively thinking the price was conversation, not my body.

A friend called me, and I gladly answered. It seemed I was saved. No dialogue, no old man's hands on my knees. But then a guy hailed the bus along the road. I automatically moved back to the previous seat. The driver and the passenger greeted each other and started talking about something. The touching continued. I noticed that with the guy present, the man didn't allow himself any liberties. Soon we entered the city, and the guy got out; I jumped out right after, even though I needed to go to the final stop, but I wanted to provoke the situation even less.

I was confused. An unfamiliar feeling. On one hand, I was being brazenly groped. On the other, nothing serious happened. If he were younger, maybe I wouldn't have acted like a virgin. The attention of a mature man, I admit, flustered me.

Some time passed after that. Whether it was coincidence or I didn't really want to, but during my trips, I never encountered that particular driver. It was spring. A warm day when I finally dressed lightly and femininely. A skirt! Yes, a light, flared knee-length skirt. I thought all men noticed and looked back at the lovely red-haired girl. Well, I have such moods sometimes. Especially since the weather allowed it. And it so happened that today was the anniversary of meeting my boyfriend. For this occasion, I spent an extra half hour in the bathroom, getting myself in order. I felt the freshness of my body, the freshness of the weather, and was immensely happy. I smiled. Yes, in such moments, a smile doesn't leave my face.

I approached the bus station. I asked the driver if the front seat was free and sat down. The departure time was approaching, and the driver was talking to someone on the phone. Then a silver-haired man appeared from the station, shook the driver's hand, and, opening the door, got behind the wheel.

— Isn't he the driver? — I asked timidly.

— No. — He shook his head. — He watched the car while I stepped away. Why?

— Nothing, — I smiled. Even this man couldn't ruin my mood now. — I just got confused.

— Don't get confused. We'll be there in a flash. Pass the fare! — He turned to the cabin where several people were sitting, and my phone rang.

It was my beloved. My heart beat fast. He's waiting. He wants to know when I'll arrive. And I'll lie that I can't, and he'll be upset, and then I'll arrive and run to him, hug him and...

— So you can't make it today? That's great! — these words brought me back to reality. — My friends invited me to a sports bar. You know, today they're playing...

I didn't hear the rest.

So, I spent half the day primping, did a wax epilation yesterday, walked around like a hobbit for two weeks before that, shaved my intimate area with a mirror to be perfectly smooth. Rubbed lotion into my skin, styled my hair in curls, like he loves. And then bam! As if hit on the head. He forgot about the anniversary! Football is more important to him?! Well, let him go with his friends to hell! I don't want to see him anymore! I'll find someone to have fun with today!

I turned off my phone. Oh, how angry I was. If someone gave me a reason right now, I'd tear them apart.

— Beauty, where are you going? — the driver interrupted my stream of indignation, distributing bills.

— I'm going to the final stop with you, — I smiled and, sitting closer, took out my wallet.

— I won't take money from you. — The man winked.

— Yes... — I took out his business card with the right to a free ride and handed it to him. — I wasn't going to. I know the rules. I like riding with you (I paused) you.

— Well, that's wonderful! — He started the car.

— I just have one request.

— I'm listening, dear.

— Be careful, you never know... , we don't need accidents.

— Don't worry, daughter! I've been driving for 30 years.

We drove off. Well, old man, I'll give you a show today!

— Any plans for the day? — he started a conversation for the sake of propriety.

— Wonderful ones! — I flashed my eyes predatorily and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on my blouse. — It's hot today.

My breasts are medium-sized, but the man let his lustful gaze wander into the cleavage.

— I wanted to go on a date today.

— A girl like you can't be alone. — He shifted gears and touched my knee. I still didn't understand: whether it happened accidentally or on purpose.

— You think so? — I turned slightly

towards him.

— I'm sure! — He let his gaze slide over my breasts and legs.

— But my boyfriend doesn't think so! He preferred his friends and football to me!

— Scoundrel! How could he?! You probably tried so hard, prepared.

— Oh, yes! — I perked up, turning even more. — I bathed so much today, rubbed my body so hard... Never in my life have I done that.

— How did you do it? — the driver's breath caught.

— Well, first a hot shower. Then I took a washcloth in my hands (Here I moved closer and began speaking in a quieter, languid voice). I rarely use it. I like to spread it with my hands over my body (ran my hands over my breasts, showing how I do it). Well, you understand me?

— Yes. — He smiled predatorily. He had probably already imagined everything.

— And then I scrubbed everything with the washcloth.

— Everything? — he clarified.

— Everything-everything. — I paused, — Well, except for...

— Except for what?

I indicated with my eyes downwards and rubbed my hand over my pubic area.

— Why not?

— There I only wash with my fingers (The man smiled). I take a little intimate soap. It's so slippery. Reminds me of lube.

— Do you pleasure yourself?

— Sometimes. But I didn't touch myself today.

— Why not?

— I didn't want to get too aroused, decided to save it all. You know, when someone else pleasures you with fingers or a tongue — it's different sensations.

— I know. — He adjusted his trousers in the crotch area with one hand. I bit my lower lip. I liked this game. I wanted to raise the stakes, but the main thing is not to rush!

— And also... I shaved there so carefully.

— Smooth? — He stroked my knee and removed his hand.

— Absolutely. — I crossed my legs, causing the skirt fabric to ride up to my thigh.

— Hm... Such things need to be checked. I don't take anyone's word for it.

I smiled, pulled my skirt up even higher, lifted myself slightly, and pulled my panties down to my ankles. I knew he was watching me, and I did it slowly. Taking off my panties, I lifted them on my index finger and brought them to his face. The driver took a deep breath.

— Pleasant smell.

— I'll give them to you. — Opening the glove compartment, I put them there, noticing a couple of condoms and a half-empty bottle of water inside.

Oh, old man, you won't get away from me that easily!

I took the bottle, took a few big gulps, and as if accidentally spilled some on my chest. Then I took out a dry tissue and began carefully wiping my blouse over the shape of my breasts.

The car's speed slowed down; I noticed a column ahead.

— Don't worry! It's a police checkpoint! — he placed his hand on my knee.

— Very timely. — I was delighted and spread my legs. He was in no hurry. His gaze was fixed on the column, and his hand slowly slid upward. Just as he touched my lips, the cars started moving. The driver started the car and drove forward a bit. The second time, he reached the coveted folds faster and even squeezed them. This game excited me. The third time — he managed to slip a finger inside, and, pulling it out, brought it to his face and sniffed it.

— You smell good, girl! — He licked it and moaned with pleasure. — Take off your bra.

— You'll have to help me! — I turned my back and slightly lifted my blouse on my back.

I felt him touch my skin with his calloused hands. He unfastened it. Not right away. I pulled the straps through the short sleeves and carelessly threw the bra above the glove compartment, near the windshield.

— Oh, baby! — He clearly liked that.

Another time, idling the engine, he slipped his left hand between my legs, then changed his mind and began straightening my blouse over my chest, trying to make the damp fabric lie on my nipples so they noticeably protruded.

— My sweet one. — He looked dazed, just short of drooling.

He reached over and fastened my seatbelt himself, also locking the door and neatly smoothing down my skirt, stroking my legs.

— Let it be like this for now.

Then it was our turn. The officer looked into the cabin, checked the documents, glanced at the bra near the windshield, but said nothing, returned the documents, and allowed us to go.

We drove off. Less than an hour of driving remained. The driver pretended to be occupied with the road, but at every opportunity, he slipped his hand between my legs and stared at my breasts. He seated any random passengers in the cabin, not letting anyone into the cab with us. Apparently, these attempts weren't enough for him because he suddenly turned to me and whispered: "Pleasure yourself!"

I turned to face him, lifted my left leg onto the seat, and left my right on the floor. I leaned back, resting my shoulders against the door. I began running my palms over my legs, stomach, breasts, then started touching my pussy.

— Put a finger in? — I asked, making an innocent face.

— Yes. — He was breathing irregularly, shifting his gaze from the road to me.

I inserted a finger into my pussy and watched him. He was mine. I saw how hard it was for him. He was trembling slightly. The bulge in his pants was so prominent it seemed about to explode.

The car slowed down. I saw familiar signs. We were at the first traffic light of the city we were heading to. He looked at me. I licked my lips and looked straight into his eyes.__P_END