Greyhound
When I first saw him I felt the little tingle just below the elastic of my
panties that told me I wanted him. I wanted to feel his fingers probe
between
the swelling, ginger fringed outer lips of my pussy to stroke my clit; to
taste
his lips with the tip of my tongue; to know the aroma of his pubic hair; to
feel the round knob of his maleness both in my mouth and in my pussy.
I was waiting in the dusk for a Greyhound bus to take me home from college
and when I looked up at the sound of the bus there he was looking at me
through
the misty bus window. His hair was dark and a little too long; his eyes were
sharp but touched with sadness and that is a combination that is deadly.
When
our eyes met he smiled admiringly, but it was a smile without hope. I get
that
look a lot. Male eyes run over me, take in my long legs, my shoulder length
red hair, my green eyes, my slender body, and my firm titties, and they want
me,
but the next instant those eyes go cloudy with the thought that they can not
have me; that I am too pretty; that I will reject them; that I will call a
cop. Most times they are right, but some times. . .
The bus was not crowded. There were plenty of seats, but I made my way down
the aisle, dragging my bag, to the seat beside him and I stood there for a
moment letting him get a good look at me. I gave him a big smile then and
ask, "Is
this seat taken?"
He was caught by surprise. I could see that he couldn't believe his luck,
but
was cynical enough to wonder why he had jumped so lucky. "Taken by you if
you
want it," he said after a little.
"Thanks," I said and begin to boost my bag up to the over head rack.
"Need some help?" he asked.
"No thanks," I said and pushed the bag up. The effort and the lift of my
arms
caused my skirt to crawl up my thighs, and I could feel his eyes on me. It
made the tingling increase and expand down from my panty tops to the top of
my
mons. I pushed at the bag and stepped closer to get beneath the weight of
it.
That put my tingling pussy about six inches from his nose. I wondered if he
could smell the aroma of it as it warmed and dampened. Probably not, but the
thought made it warm and dampen even more.
At last I settled beside him and we made some small talk as the bus rolled
on
down the highway. He was a student too and on his way to the airport to go
to
California.
"I always wanted to go to California," I said. "I would like to go to the
beach."
"You'd look great in a bikini."
I put a wicked twist into my smile. "I have a thong bikini," I whispered and
giggled, "but I haven't gotten up the guts to wear it yet."
He smiled in return and dropped his hand into his lap, trying to hide a
growing hard on. I made a point of looking at his fly and when he saw the
direction
of my eyes he blushed, but the lump in his jeans got harder to hide. I
thought about saying something about it, or maybe just reaching out and
putting my
hand on it, but that kind of thing scares some guys, no matter how they deny
it, and I didn't want to scare this one.
After a little more talk I decided to let him stew and think about my thong
bikini. I pulled a book out of my purse and began to read. It is FEAR OF
FLYING
and I chuckled a little as I read. He asked why.
"The 'Zipless Fuck'" I answered and laughed at the look on his face.
"What's that?" he asked.
"It's where two strangers meet and make love and separate without ever even
knowing each others names."
"Well, that's interesting. You ever done it?"
"No," I told him, though I had.
"Would you consider doing it?"
I shrugged and made sure my hair draped over my face a little. "Depends on
the guy."
"Ah," he said and shut up. I expected him to pursue the subject, but he
didn't, so I went back to reading.
It was growing dark and I tried to flip on the reading light, but it didn't
work so I put the book away and let the back of my seat down its three
inches
that are supposed to make you more comfortable and closed my eyes. I was
disappointed and frustrated that my seat mate hadn't risen to the bait, but
it was
still a long way to Memphis. I let my knees fall open little by little as I
pretended to go to sleep. Through my slightly open eye lids I could see him
considering, so I let my knees fall open a little more, but I couldn't open
my legs
a lot more and still pretend it was accidental. . . .
. . . And then I felt the first gentle touch of his hand on my knee. It was
just a brush that could have been accidental, but he left it there against
the
outside of my right knee for a little while to see if I was going to
suddenly
wake up, or scream, or call the driver or what, but I didn't do anything.
After a little he moved his hand inside my thigh and up under my skirt a
little.
His fingers were warm through the nylon of my stockings, and his fingernail
brushing up and down the material against my skin sent a chill up my leg.
The
electricity of his touch made my pussy wet. The crotch of my panties was
getting
flooded. I could hardly wait for his fingers to reach it, to stroke the
soaking Vee with my pussy beneath.
He caressed a little higher. He was probably expecting panty hose, but he
was
going to find the top of my high reach stocking in another inch or two, and
when his fingers slipped from the rough weave of the nylon top onto the
silky
flesh of my thigh he exhaled as though I had just touched the tip of my
tongue
to the tip of his maleness. It was all I could do to keep my eyes closed and
my hips still.
The feel of my flesh made him bolder and he slid his hand all the way up to
my crotch. My panties were already sticky with desire. If he hadn't known I
was
faking sleep before he certainly did now, so I opened my eyes and looked
into
his.
Surprise at being caught with his hand almost down a strange ladies panties
stopped him dead. The soaked crotch of my panties told him I didn't exactly
hate what he was doing, but my open eyes didn't exactly reassure him either.
He
did not know whether to pull his hand away or push his finger under the lacy
elastic leg opening and into my pussy.
I smiled and brushed his lips with mine, then dropped my hand into his lap.
I
had to push his hand out of the way to get my finger onto the lump in his
pants. I squeezed gently and his breath caught with the pressure.
I straightened up a little to check if anyone had noticed what we were
doing.
No one was near us. The bus was dark except for one reading light toward the
front. I reached for the waist of his jeans and found that he wasn't wearing
a
belt. It was easy to unbutton the button and pull down his zipper. His
manhood was straining against the white jockey shorts so hard I was afraid I
might
hurt him getting it free. The heat of it radiated up into my hand and made
my
nipples harden in sympathy. My thighs were slippery with the honey of love.
His
fingers stroked my flesh as if coated with oil.
I pushed my hand inside the elastic waist of his shorts. His pubic hair was
not wiry but soft. It tickled my palm as I pushed passed it and my finger
tips
touched the place where his maleness connected. I caught my breath at the
thickness of it. The heat and hardness of it radiated up my arm and made my
mouth
tingle. My tongue had the copper taste of anticipation upon it. With my
other
hand I pulled the waist band open and lifted his straining masculus free.
The
sight of his aching, beautiful, circumcised virility, and his fingers
sliding
between the lips of my pussy made my breath catch. He stroked from the top
of
my pubic triangle down between the lips, stopping for a breath at my
swelling
clitty. I clamped my teeth on my lip to stop the moan that was in my throat
from escaping. A flickering image swept through my thoughts; my hands
tangled in
his dark hair, pulling his face tighter into my femininity as my hips jumped
forward to meet his pointed tongue.
I made a loose tube of my fingers and stroked slowly from the scarlet knob o
f
his member down to its nest of curls. The stroke distracted him from my
little nubbin. His fingers stopped, but my sensitive inner flower felt them
tremble. His proud tower throbbed in my hand and swelled more. With a gentle
squeeze
I stroked back toward the tip. He closed his eyes and his lips opened in a
silent moan.
My stroke squeezed a crystalline drop from his maleness. I smiled, then
leaned over and touched my tongue to the slit. The salty slippery taste of
it made
a pang of sexual hunger race from the tip of my tongue up and down my body.
I
curled my tongue around the swollen head, and spiraled it down to his glans.
His hips thrust up, pushing him deeper into my mouth, but I had been ready
for
that, and when it came I tightened my lips and pressed my tongue against the
underside ridge and drew my mouth all the way back up to the tip. The
rhythmic
spasms that meant he was close to spending his silvery essence in my mouth
began and I pulled away before they could grow too strong.
"Oh God!" he said. "Why did you stop?"
"Because I want more. I want to lick your nipples and put my tongue into
that
little place right where your balls fold down. The place where the root of
your manhood is?"
He blinked and swallowed. I smiled.
"I want to push my finger into you as I tickle your maleness with my tongue.
And I want you to have your face where your fingers are now. I want to run
my
fingers through your hair while you taste the love honey soaked into my
panties, and put the tip of your tongue so deep into me that I lose control
of
myself and pee in your mouth. You understand?"
"A 'Zipless Fuck'?"
"Yes. Zipless."
"I understand," he said.
My sister was out of town so I took him to her house.
"I have to call California," he said when we got there. "They are expecting
me. I'll reverse the charges."
"All right. The phone is on that table."
He went to it, sat in the chair beside it, and dialed the Operator, but
hardly took his eyes off me.
I stood a few feet away and began unbuttoning my blouse. His eyes sparked
with wanting as he saw that my nipples were hard and poked like baby finger
tips
against the soft silk of my camisole. I ran my fingers around the points
feeling the smoothness of the silk and the electricity of my own touch. I
pinched
my nipples and felt the pressure deep beneath my Vee of fine red pubic hair.
It
gave me an idea. I unbuttoned my skirt and let it fall to the floor. I was
left standing before him wearing white camisole, light blue bikini panties
stained several shades darker between my legs, and smoke colored high reach
stockings. He licked his lips as his eyes ran up and down my body. I smiled.
The Operator put his call through.
I stepped closer. His nose was on a level with my navel. His eyes went to
the
darker stain of my panties as he talked and he licked his lips again.
I lifted my right leg and put my foot upon the table beside the phone, and
tilted my pelvis so that my wet, aromatic panties were only an inch from his
mouth. The warm exhalation of his breath as he talked caressed and cooled
the
damp inside of my thigh.
He hung up the phone and, in one fluid movement brought his hands up behind
my bottom, clutched it, and pulled my pussy hard against his mouth. He bit
gently into the fleshy swell of it then licked the soaked triangle of my
panties.
"Oh it tastes so good!" he said. "Just the smell of it almost makes me cum."
I laughed deep in my throat and dropped my foot to the floor. "Then you had
better stop that," I said. "Come along with me." I pulled him to his feet.
His hands slid up my bottom and under the back of my camisole. He pulled me
tight against his body and the pressure of it, the hardness of his muscles
as
well as the hardness of his manhood, made my knees feel weak. I wanted to
fall
onto my back there on the floor beside the telephone and feel his iron
masculus driving into me.
He felt my knees begin to buckle and scooped me up in his arms. "Where?" he
asked.
"There," I said and pointed to the bedroom.
He placed me gently on the bed and brought his hands up from my back to my
titties, lifting my camisole with a flip of his wrists, and when he saw my
pointed pink nipples, just a little darker than the surrounding flesh, he
let out a
sigh. After a moment of admiring them he gently stroked his hands over them,
not tweaking or pinching, but stroking so that the pointy sensitivity of
them
made little circles in the palms of his hands.
"Take off your clothes," I said. "I want to see you all hard and straining."
He smiled and stepped back. He kicked off his shoes then began unbuttoning
his shirt slowly, like a stripper. His chest was broad, but not like a
weight
lifter. The muscles were well defined but their lines were blurred by
masculine
hair which started thick between and above his chest muscles and thinned
toward the sides. A line of hair ran down the center of his belly and
plunged
beneath the top of his jeans. He flipped his shirt away and began
unbuttoning his
jeans.
I twirled my fingers around my nipples as I watched him strip and when he
began slipping his jeans down I slid my right hand down my tummy and under
my
panty top. The feel of my damp pubic hair against my hand made me pull my
knees
up so that my finger tip could reach my clitty. I began flicking the hard
little nub which had swollen out of its nest and felt the pulsing, clenching
of my
muscles as a climax approached.
He stopped to watch me play with myself still wearing his jockey shorts
which
were straining to keep his swollen cock restrained.
"Don't stop," I said. "I want to see you naked. Quick. Quick. I want to see
you naked when I come."
He pulled his briefs down, kicked them away and stood with legs slightly
apart. His cock shaft was red and the head of it was purple. His balls were
drawn
up tight into the thick curls of his pubic hair behind the extension of his
dick which bobbed and pulsed with desire. Once again there was a crystalline
drop forming at the end. "Touch it," I said. "Stroke yourself."
"I'll come if I stroke much," he said, sliding his circled fingers from the
head down to the base.
"Just make sure you squirt on me, then I'll let you lick it off."
"Oh my God," He groaned and stroked himself again.
The groan and sight of his throbbing were enough to drive me over the top. I
could not keep my eyes from closing with the intensity of the pleasure, and
that made me miss the first spasm of his release, but I felt the spat of his
cream between my titties and opened my eyes to see him kneeling between my
knees
stroking himself. His thick silvery cum fountained in repeated jets, most of
it falling on my tummy, but some squirting so hard that some drops reached
my
face.
I still twiddled my clit and sight and feel of his warm gobs of cum falling
onto my body, and the taste of some that had squirted onto my lips made me
climax yet again.
Without even a breath passing he grabbed my panties by the waist band and
tore them from my body. His eyes were blaze filled points of wanting which
stabbed my pussy. My pubic hair was soaked and plastered to my flesh in dark
red
ringlets. With my legs open as far as possible the lips were open so that
his
eyes could see deep into me. My clitty was swollen and protruding like a
scale
model of the still ridged dick which bobbed between his legs.
"Taste it," I commanded.
He fell to his knees at the foot of the bed and pulled me toward him so that
my bottom was almost off the bed. I put my heels up on his shoulders and he
put his mouth over my open, dripping sex. His tongue flicked and darted over
it
running from my asshole to the top of my pubic hair. He nibbled and nipped
with his teeth on the fleshy swelling of my outer pussy lips and stroked and
sucked at my bright red pouting inner lips. The swelling, shivering,
clenching
spasms of climax crashed through me. He held my thighs hard so as to keep me
tight against his mouth while the explosion racked me and made my hips hump
wildly, but when the spasms began to subside he didn't release me. Instead
he began
to lick my body, stopping at each glob of his cum that lay on my tummy and
titties and licking up each of those cloudy white splots as though they were
vanilla pudding.
When his mouth reached my mouth he ran his tongue over my lips and then the
point of it darted in to duel with my tongue. The taste of his cum and the
taste of my love honey were mixed on his mouth and the taste made my hips
begin to
jump against him. My legs lifted and locked around his waist. He reached
down
and slipped his thick cock into me. It was a tight fit and the ridge of
flesh
just behind the head brushed that corduroy ridge inside me that is called
the
G spot. I screamed with the explosive pleasure of it and kept screaming as
he
drove himself into me over and over and over. I could feel the pounding of
his cock against the back of my womb; the thump of his pelvis against mine;
the
slap of his balls against the cheeks of my bottom.
After what could have been an hour or a few moments of his pounding into me
his cock suddenly swelled yet larger and his whole body tensed in the
embrace
of my arms and legs. Rhythmic swelling, clenching, spurting! His warm liquid
essence was like ocean waves crashing inside me. He cried out with each
geyser,
and my pussy clenched to echo each spasm as my own orgasm racked my body.
His back arched like a man in seizure with the last spurt and he collapsed
on
to me as the tide of pleasure eased. It frightened me, but he was so in tune
with me that he felt my prickle of fear and lifted his weight off me onto
his
elbows and knees, but didn't pull his still stiff, but now shrinking manhood
out of me.
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you. . . it was just so. . . " he
stopped, unable to find the word.
"Yeah, SO!" I tightened my arms and legs around him.
After a moment he pulled himself out of me, and lay on his back beside me.
Though spent, he still gently caressed me. He stroked my wet pubic hair and
slippery thighs, sometimes letting his finger slide into my womb and even
into my
anus. I pulled my knees up to make it easier for him. His maleness, almost
soft now, was shiny and wet with both my juice and his and the way it looked
made
me want to taste it. I sat up and lifted his cock with my fingers. It was
sticky/slick and stirred a little at the pressure.
"I don't know if there's anything left," he said.
"I'll find out," I said and took the head of it in my mouth. The taste was
salty sweet like salt-water taffy, mixed with my own ancient sea musk, and
it
made the tightening tingle begin again deep inside me.
His cock was still small enough that I could easily take it all in my mouth
so I did. I slowly drew my tightened lips from the base up the length to the
head, then sucked it back into my mouth as I slid my lips back toward its
base.
As I sucked and stroked I brought my index finger down and, ever so slowly,
circled it around his balls until they drew up tight. His member was
stiffening
again now. He picked up his knees and opened them so that I could rub the
smooth sensitive area behind his balls.
I laughed as he opened himself to me. His cock was still in my mouth and the
vibration of my laugh made him moan. I slipped it out and said, "Looks like
there is some more after all."
"Seems like. Turn around and straddle my mouth."
"69! My favorite number, " I said and did as he told me. I put one knee on
each side of his face and he brought his arms around my waist and stroked
his
fingers up and down my spine from the small of my back down between my
bottom
cheeks as far as he could reach, and as he stroked with his fingers he began
to
stroke with his tongue. From the top of my slit to my anus he licked in a
steady rhythm.
I tried to ignore the silken stroke of his tongue and went back to sucking
his now swollen member. I couldn't take the whole thing in my mouth now, but
continued to go as far down the shaft as I could without gagging myself and,
as I
stroked and sucked, I separated his muscular ass cheeks and exposed the
puckery flower of his anus. The whole area was wet and slick with our
combined
juices and now with the saliva which leaked from my mouth as I sucked his
cock so
I had no trouble slipping my finger into him. I pushed it in passed the
knuckle and began to
circle it and pump it gently in and out. He tilted his pelvis up and lifted
his knees higher, never stopping the steady rhythm of his licking. Though I
was
distracted by his maleness and the control I had over him, it was becoming
harder and harder to ignore his tongue. He dropped his arms and brought his
hands up beneath me to my titties and began stroking and squeezing them. He
squeezed hard and pinched the hardened nipples between his fingers and it
might have
hurt at some other time, but now the luscious pain only made my pussy hotter
and his tongue strokes more fiery.
I sucked harder and plunged my finger deeper into his ass and suddenly his
wonderful tongue stopped stroking and drove itself into my ass as if to
answer
my finger's probing. At the same time he pinched my nipples hard and closed
his
thighs on each side of my head.
My explosion was completely out of control. My hips humped his mouth and I
felt the hiss of my liquid gift as it squeezed out of me.
"Oh yes!" he cried! "Oh yes! Pee for me baby! Pee for me. . . ." and his
tongue licked madly.
My orgasm was so huge that I lost all coordination and could not continue to
suck him, but as soon as my spasms began to recede I began to suck hard and
pump with my finger. I felt the clenching around my finger first then the
swelling and twitching of his dick as he came. There was almost no liquid.
He had
spent most of that earlier, but the clenching, humping, bucking of his body
was
stronger than it had yet been and he groaned with the pleasure of it.
I collapsed completely, my face between his legs, my oozing dripping pussy
full in his face. Neither of us could move; only sleep.
I took him to the airport the next morning and watched as he walked down the
corridor toward the plane. He turned before going through the gate and
lifted
his hand. I did not know his name; he did not know mine. Completely
Zipless --
except that now each time I see a Greyhound bus I feel a tingling just below
the elastic of my panties, and every time I ride the bus I look for those
sharp, sad eyes and that dark hair that is just a little too long.
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