Your fingers slide back from your dripping cunt to circle your asshole—still clenched tight from the earlier humiliation—and the men roar with approval as you press inside yourself shallowly. "Hah! Look at this gandi billi," the bearded man hoots, nudging the college boy beside him, "opening her gaand like a good little randi!" The older man spits onto his palm before smearing it over your fingers, the warm wetness making your asshole yield easier as you whimper through the stretch. Someone’s phone flash catches the glisten of saliva and slick around your trembling thighs while the younger man crouches to growl, "Deeper—*show* them how you take it," his calloused thumb joining your fingers to press knuckle-deep without warning. The bus lurches again, forcing your body down onto the intrusion as a chorus of groans rises around you—zippers lowering, rough hands stroking cocks, all eyes locked on where your holes flutter obscenely around the thrusting digits.