**Bus Ride Orders**

( my girlfriend name Nandana . She studying in iti so she going in bus uniform blue shirt and black coat and black pants , one day I told to her when she going in bus if anyone touch her body allow them and tell to hime please tell to your friends and do they also and what they are doing text me . But she didn't know I am also coming in that same bus . That time I am in behind of her)

The bus was packed, bodies pressed together in the humid crush of the afternoon crowd. Nandana stood near the middle, clutching the overhead rail, her blue shirt taut across her chest, black coat unbuttoned. Every jolt of the bus made her sway—right into the man behind her. I watched from two rows back, hidden behind sunglasses, as his hand "accidentally" brushed her hip. She didn’t flinch. My grip tightened on my phone. His fingers lingered. Testing. When she didn’t pull away, he leaned in, lips grazing her ear. "You’re so soft," he murmured. A pause. Then, almost too quiet to hear: "Tell your friends too." My cock throbbed as his palm slid up her thigh, squeezing under the hem of her coat. A text buzzed in my pocket: *"Someone touched me… he’s holding my ass now."* I grinned. The game was on.

The man’s fingers dug deeper, his breath hot against Nandana’s neck as his other hand crept around her waist, pulling her snug against him. The bus lurched again, and she gasped—his palm cupped her ass fully now, kneading with possessive hunger. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she didn’t reach for it. Instead, she arched subtly into his touch, biting her lip. From my seat, I could see the flush creeping up her neck, the way her thighs shifted restlessly. The man’s friend, noticing, sidled closer, his smirk filthy. “Sharing’s caring,” he muttered, sliding a hand up her other thigh. Nandana’s breath hitched as two sets of hands roamed her—one palming her tits through her shirt, the other teasing the button of her pants. My phone lit up again: *“They’re both touching me… one’s trying to unzip me.”* I adjusted myself, aching, as the first man’s fingers slipped past her waistband. The second leaned in, teeth scraping her earlobe. “Be a good girl and spread a little,” he growled. Her legs trembled—but she obeyed.

The second man’s fingers hooked into the waistband of her pants, yanking them down just enough to expose the curve of her ass. The bus hit another pothole, jostling her forward, and the first man took full advantage—his thick fingers slid past the damp fabric of her panties, sinking into her without warning. Nandana’s knuckles whitened on the overhead rail, a shuddering gasp escaping her. “Fuck, she’s wet already,” the second guy muttered, grinding his hardening cock against her hip. His friend laughed, working her with rough, deliberate strokes, his thumb circling her clit in tight little spirals. The heat of bodies around them masked the movement, but the slick sounds were unmistakable. My phone buzzed again—*“He’s fingering me… so hard…”*—but I barely glanced at it, too fixated on the way her thighs quivered, her hips rocking back against his hand. The second man undid his belt with one hand, his other gripping her waist. “Open wider,” he ordered, voice rough. She whimpered but obeyed, shifting her stance. The bus roared on, indifferent, as he lined himself up behind her.

The second man’s cock slid between her thighs, grinding against her slick folds from behind as his friend’s fingers kept working her open. Nandana’s breath came in ragged bursts—each thrust of his hips smeared her wetness along his length, teasing the sensitive head against her clit. The first man chuckled, twisting his fingers deep inside her, making her jerk. "She’s begging for it," he murmured, pulling her panties to the side. The second man didn’t hesitate. He gripped her hips and drove into her with one rough snap of his pelvis, burying himself to the hilt. A choked moan tore from her throat as she arched back against him, the stretch undeniable. The rhythm was brutal from the start—no gentle buildup, just raw, claiming strokes that jolted her forward with every thrust. The first man kept his fingers buried in her, circling her clit in time with his friend’s pounding, and when she clenched around him, he groaned. "Fuck, she’s squeezing like she doesn’t want me to stop." I watched, jaw tight, as her body was used between them—her blouse tugged open, her nipples pinched and rolled between rough fingers while cock pistoned into her from behind. The bus swayed, but they didn’t slow, using the momentum to drive deeper. My phone buzzed once more: *“They’re both fucking me.”*

The first man’s fingers left her soaked cunt, glistening as he brought them to her mouth. “Suck,” he ordered, and she did—tongue curling around his digits, hollowing her cheeks as she cleaned herself off him. His free hand yanked her hair back, exposing her throat just as his friend’s thrusts turned punishing, the slap of skin echoing under the rumble of the bus. Her moans were muffled around his fingers, her body jolting with each deep, urgent drive. The second man’s grip on her hips tightened, his cock dragging out until just the tip remained before slamming back in, making her choke around the fingers in her mouth. “That’s it—take it,” he growled, hips snapping faster, her ass reddening from the impact. The first man finally pulled his fingers free, smearing her spit down her chin before reaching between her legs. His thumb found her clit again, pressing hard in rough circles as his friend fucked her. Nandana’s thighs shook violently; her cunt clenched around the cock splitting her open, her nails digging into the overhead rail. The first man leaned in, biting her shoulder. “Going to make you come right here, with everyone watching,” he muttered—and she shuddered, her body tensing as the pleasure coiled tight, inevitable. The second man groaned, his pace turning erratic. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last—”