She was riding the bus across from me. The bus was kind of packed, but I was lucky enough to get a seat. I knew it wasn't polite, but I couldn't take my eyes off her. I'm sure that was at least part of the reason she dressed the way she did. Her pants were fairly standard leggings, but her shirt was barely a shirt at all. It was scandalously tight, and barely came down low enough to cover her areolas. Almost fully half of her underboob was hanging out, producing a sort of "lower cleavage" that I'd never seen before. She was also downright amazonian, easily six and a half feet tall and quite buxom.

At some point she must have noticed, because when my eyes drifted up to meet hers, I discovered she was staring at me with a grin on her face. When she saw that I'd seen that I'd been seen, she winked, then raised her finger to her lips and pointed to the diminutive young man standing in front of her. He was probably a college student, and rather than stand face to face with her boobs the whole ride--they were eye level for him--he'd politely turned his back. She took a conspicuous step forward. The other rider felt a warm, soft pressure at the back of his neck and clearly was able to put two and two together. He blushed and took a step forward. She grinned wider and pressed her chest against his neck again. He tried to move further up, but he was out of room.

The woman seemed to be delighting in the way the man squirmed, unsure how to broach the topic her mammaries encroaching on his personal space. She offered another wink, then yawned and stretched luxuriously. The motion lifted her chest up just a bit, such that the edge of her tight shirt raised above his head. Then she shifted forward and dropped her arms. The plush globes of her bosom flopped over the man's head.

He released a muffled complaint, but she merely shut her eyes and bit her lip, as though concentrating deeply. The soft, almost silent sound of flesh gliding over flesh followed, and with a slow *ffffffffup* the bulge between her breasts sunk backwards and was entirely lost within her cleavage. The hapless man released the handrail he'd been holding and tried to push her chest off his head. She merely delicately nudged each elbow and his hands slid smoothly in beside his face.

She caught my eyes again and pointed down. I followed the gesture and saw that the man's feet had left the ground. He was slowly but surely gliding upward, each moment feeding a few more inches of his body into her cleavage. I looked around, certain that someone else must have been seeing this. No one else either noticed or cared, which left me in even greater doubt of my own sanity.

She became impassion, rocking up and down on her toes to cause a bouyant bounce to wobble her chest. Each bounce gobbled up a bit more of the hapless bus rider. In no time at all, she'd carefully supported his wriggling sneakers and caused them to *florp* inside of her cleavage with a light shove.

We reached a stop and she winked one last time before getting off the bus.

That was two weeks ago, and night and day I'd thought about what I'd seen. I probably would have still been doubting it was real if not for what had happened a few moments ago. Unable to find a seat, I was standing. And now, I feel a warm softness against the back of my head...