i got frotted this morning.
In psychiatry, the clinical term frotteurism (no longer called frottage involving rubbing against a nonconsensual person to achieve sexual arousal or even orgasm, discreetly without being discovered, typically in a ) refers to a specific sexual disorder. It is a paraphiliapublic place such as a crowded train. <from wikipedia>
this is what happens when they crowd the shuttle bus to varsity the way they do. i was innocently standing there (standing because there’s no sitting room anywhere) waiting for the bus to leave, while they kept packing students on… i’m sure there were people squished up against the back window in a cartoonish fashion with their noses all skew and lips flattened.
finally they deem the bus full enough to go (i deemed it full enough to go as soon as i got on… but then i actually care about things like not dying when the bus rolls over) and off we trundle. well trundle is a bit of misinformation. most of the bus drivers that man(handle) the busses seem to be permanently stuck in the “inexperienced” catagory. it doesn’t matter how long they’ve been driving and it doesn’t matter how many runs they do a day (and they do a fair amount), they can never provide a smooth, comfortable journey.
so i’m standing there minding my own business *tum-tee-tum…* when the bus driver comes across a deceptively straight, unblocked, flat, perfectly normal stretch of road. so what happens? the bus suddenly lurches forward as the driver takes full advantage to make the trip as uncomfortable as possible. the result: people go flying around the bus with brownian motion-esque hilarity.
now i’m what you may call a “varsity shuttle vetran” as i get bounced around the giant blue deathtraps on a nearly daily basis. so when the inevitable unpredicabilities happen i tend to maintain a fairly static point in the grand scheme of things. my frotteur, however, was obviously a rookie at bussing. the bus jumps, i stay fairly still, and suddenly i have this ass comfortable nestled in my crotch. thankfully it was a low impact frottage involving a padded area otherwise i may have been foetal on the floor. it was almost as if she’d done this sort of thing before… a master of the frot, if you will.
but then it got all awkward and i garnered a deeper knowledge of what it must feel like to accidently wake up, after a heavy night’s drinking, naked in your best friend’s bed with a toothbrush stuck up your ass.
what do you say after something like that?
- did the earth move for you too? (obviously… we’re on a bus dumbass!)
- thanks, can i get your number? (what… student number?)
- this is just a one trip thing, but i hope we can still be friends? (we weren’t friends to start with.)
- can you fetch me a towel? (unlikely unless she’s going to the gym after varsity.)
and she felt it too because for the rest of the trip she hung her head in secret shame and disappeared off the bus with much abbandon once we arrived at our stop.
was it something i did? should i have cuddled after? maybe falling asleep for the rest of the trip was a bit incensitive ;)
ok… so maybe i’m exagerating a little, but moonflake’s been in america for ages now and those bus trips in the morning are pretty damn boring. i just hope campus control doesn’t arrive with handcuffs :P