Sissy Chrissy Models & Jacks Off on the Hillcrest Bus- Updated

The bus hissed as it opened its doors on University Avenue,

right in the heart of Hillcrest, San Diego’s famous gay neighborhood.

I climbed aboard, heart racing a little faster than usual. On\

the outside I was in my “boy clothes” — plain pants, a simple

shirt — but underneath I was my secret self: Chrissy Marie

Tunnell. Pink floral panties hugged my smooth hips, a matching

bra cupped my chest, and tiny flashes of trans-colored jewelry

— a ring, a dangling earring — shimmered in the afternoon light.

I wasn’t fully comfortable living openly as a girl yet, but I loved

leaving little clues for anyone observant enough to notice.

As I walked down the aisle, I felt eyes on me. One man’s

gaze dropped to where the pink waistband of my panties

peeked above my pants. Another tilted his head just enough

to catch the faint outline of my bra straps beneath the thin

cotton of my shirt. My jewelry glinted when the bus jolted,

and I knew they’d seen the colors.

Their eyes followed me hungrily as I slid into a seat halfway

down. Even the bus driver, watching through the mirror,

licked his lips and adjusted in his chair.

“Hey…” one man finally said, his voice a mix of awe and

lust. “You’re Chrissy… the trans model, aren’t you?”

My cheeks burned, but I gave a shy smile. “Yes.”

A low whistle came from the back. “Damn. You should

take those clothes off.”

I laughed nervously, shaking my head. “I can’t here…”

Then the driver’s voice, gravelly but warm, floated down

the aisle: “It’s okay. I won’t say anything.” His eyes met

mine in the mirror, daring me.

A shiver ran through me. My body trembled with a mix

of nerves and arousal as I stood up slowly, the bus

swaying beneath my feet. I grabbed the metal pole for

balance, slipped off my shirt one button at a time, and

slid my pants down my thighs. Gasps and murmurs

spread as I revealed my pink bra and panties, smooth

legs, and the bulge already straining with need.

 

“Goddamn…” someone whispered.

I posed for them, turning so they could see the curve of

my ass, bending just enough to make my cheeks round

and full under the thin fabric. I arched my back, running

my hands down my torso, teasing myself for their eyes.

The air hummed with catcalls and whistles, every sound

feeding my arousal.

 

I felt powerful. Desired. Exposed.

The driver adjusted his mirror again, his eyes glued to me.

My cock twitched inside my panties, leaking, the wet spot

spreading. A chorus of moans and encouragement filled the

bus as I spread my legs, cupped myself through the silky

fabric, and let them watch my face flush and my chest rise

and fall with each deep breath.

I was their show, their Chrissy, their secret goddess on

wheels.

Chrissy’s Bus Show –

The Climax

The bus swayed along the road, but I barely noticed.

Every set of eyes was on me — hungry, wide, devouring.

I stood in the aisle in nothing but my pink floral bra and

panties, my smooth skin glistening under the fluorescent

lights, my cock straining the damp satin.

“Do it, Chrissy,” someone whispered, voice husky with

need.

“Yes… show us,” another begged.

The encouragement hit me like waves of heat. I hooked

my thumbs under the band of my panties, tugged them

tight against my bulge, and let out a trembling gasp.

My cock pulsed, the wet spot spreading. The riders

groaned, some openly rubbing themselves as they watched.

I spread my legs wider, arched my back, and cupped

myself through the silky fabric. The friction was maddening.

My hips bucked, the panties darkening with each spurt of

precum.

“God, look at you,” the bus driver moaned from the mirror,

his knuckles white on the wheel.

The passengers cheered me on, clapping, catcalling,

shouting my name. “Chrissy! Chrissy!”

I slid one hand up my chest, over my flat stomach, to

my bra — tugging at the cups, making my nipples stand

hard under the lace. My other hand rubbed furiously

over the soaked bulge, grinding, stroking, teasing myself to the edge.

The entire bus rocked with my moans. My thighs quivered,

my lips parted, sweat dripping down my temples. I was

lost in it, lost in them, lost in the rush of being seen.

Then it hit.

“Ahhh—!” My body seized, cock jerking uncontrollably

as I came hard in my panties. Hot, sticky release poured

out, soaking the pink fabric, running down my thighs.

Gasps and cheers filled the air, some passengers clapping,

others moaning with me as if they’d climaxed, too.

 

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I staggered back against the seat, panting, chest heaving,

panties completely drenched. My whole body trembled,

but my smile was blissful, wicked, satisfied.

The bus slowed for the next stop. A few of the men and

women closest to me leaned in, grinning, eyes glinting

with desire.

“You’re coming with us,” one whispered, bold but inviting.

“Yeah,” another teased, licking their lips. “The real party’s

just starting.”

I shivered, the afterglow mixing with a new rush of

anticipation. I pulled my damp clothes back on, panties

sticking deliciously to my skin, and stepped off the bus

into the warm Hillcrest night — a crowd of admirers

following me out, ready to see how much further Chrissy

was willing to go.

-Chrissy

 

 

 

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