School for discipline
The bouncing of the Greyhound bus made Lisa horny. The vibrations caused by the grinding bus engine sent warm sensations zinging up her teenage pussy. She could feel her cunt lips getting wet as they hugged the crotch-seam of her tight jeans, the tight scam cutting up between her pussy lips like a gag. Each time the bus hit a rut in the road her cunt almost spasmed. She took a deep breath and turned to the old witch on her right.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Turner, but I have to use the bathroom."
The square-jawed social worker gave her a quick scowl, then stared straight ahead again, her long neck stiff and straight, as was the rest of her scarecrow figure.
"The facility is known as a restroom, Miss Wills. I hope you're not intending to bathe in it."
"No, ma'am." Lisa rose to squeeze past her.
"Put on your shoes," Mrs. Turner said, grabbing Lisa's arm and forcing her back down. The wiry woman shard fingernails gouged Lisa's flesh, making her wince.
"Yes, ma'am." Lisa wanted to claw the witch's face, but she swallowed hard and bent forward to tug her blue tennis shoes over her brown feet. She hated shoes, and she went barefoot so often that she usually wasn't aware that she was shoeless unless somebody reminded her of the fact. Mrs. Turner seemed to remind her every few minutes.
"That's better," Mrs. Turner said. "Now, don't be long like last time."
"Yes, ma'am." Lisa edged past the woman's bony knees.
Lisa loved the Greyhound's stainless-steel restroom. She loved the loud click of the door lock, loved the way the entire cubicle vibrated. She felt secure as she locked herself in, and she yanked off her shoes and blue jeans in an instant. She'd have taken off her yellow T-shirt too, but in case of an emergency she wanted to be able to dress fast.