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As I felt him slide in and out of me, I dug my nails into his shoulders. "Are you going to explode on my cock? Are you going to come again?" he asked in my ear, and that's all I needed to hear as stars flooded my vision and I gasped for air, bucking wildly through my orgasm.
It was never this easy for me to come.
Maybe I'd been drugged.
I couldn't explain it.
But just as I finished my silent scream of ecstasy, he stilled. We both realized with alarm that the bus was coming to a station. He hadn't finished; we were going to get caught. As we heard the sounds of the brakes, I started to panic, but he put his finger over my lips to shush me. "Take your clothes in your arm under the coat,” he said, buttoning my coat down the front, helping me up onto shaking legs, and giving me a little nudge out into the aisle. “Now go back to your seat, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? I stood there, bewildered, holding my clothes in one hand. He'd used a term of endearment for me. I wasn't even sure what to think of that. It confused everything even more. Surely he didn't think this was anything but the sleaziest of hookups. Then a worse possibility occurred to me. He said it because it was the sleaziest of hookups. It was a kiss off. The last thing you say to a slutty chick you got to suck and fuck and aren't ever going to see again. For a brief moment, I had convinced myself that something was happening between us, but now he was done with me. He didn't know my name, didn't want to, and would probably use the encounter as wank material for years. I could only imagine what he would say to his friends whenever he got to where he was going...since he kept my torn panties as a souvenir.
I gave him one last look, then slowly made my way back to my seat. I was so humiliated, I didn't think I could stand it. As the bus pulled into the station, I slid back into my chair a few rows up. I opened my bag and tucked my clothes into it, pulling my coat tighter around my naked form. The bus came to a stop. The lights came on, blinding me, and disturbing most of the passengers. There seemed to be a collective groan from the tired people on the bus.
"Syracuse! Two hour layover," the driver announced.
It was a miserable place to stop. It was three in the morning, and the chairs in the terminal were hard plastic. I'd been here a few times before. People wanted to rest. But we had to get off the bus. Maybe that was for the best, because I needed to get away from the guy I'd just banged. I needed to get away from him before I did anything stupider.
I'd come on his cock, and my whole body was still vibrating with the pleasure of it, but I needed to get away from him. I needed never to see him again. I needed to get dressed, get on a different bus, and get away. So the moment the bus doors opened, I grabbed my bag, ran a hand through my sweat-damp hair, and bolted.
~~~
I practically ran through the terminal heading for the bathroom to put my clothes back on. I felt oddly hollow and alone, and I wiped my eyes clear of the tears that had gathered there. I needed to get away.
But, to my astonishment, he was on my heels. He'd somehow zipped up, gathered his things, and apparently chased me across the parking lot and into the building. I heard his sneakers thunk hard against the bus terminal floor behind me, but dared not look back.
As soon as I reached out for the handle of the bathroom door, his hand was on mine. We crashed into the bathroom together, and he spun me to face him...and I was so unexpectedly happy, so filled with relief, that I threw my arms around his neck.
I kissed him hard, steaming up his glasses, as he lifted me up by the hips and latched the door behind him. Then he walked me over to the countertop and lifted me up onto it.
"I'm not finished," he said to me, in a normal voice. It was the first time I'd heard him speak above a whisper, and it slayed me. I loved the Boston accent. The clipped precision of it. The roguish grin. "And since you're still naked under your coat, it'll be easier this time."
I didn't even know him, but in that moment, I thought I loved him. Which was maybe even more disloyal to my boyfriend than fucking a stranger. I was thinking about my guilt when the stranger pushed me back against the mirror, then positioned me for his still hard cock. "Oh god," I moaned, trying to stop him. "Not here! Someone's going to catch us."
He grabbed my hair at the base of my neck and, stepping between my thighs, he shook his head with exasperation. "No more of that game. Don't fight me now. I won't be gentle if you do."
All protest evaporated. I just spread my thighs around him and was rewarded by a long hard thrust that made me cry out.
"Put your arms around my neck," he said.
I reached up around his neck and let him cup my ass while pumping wildly inside me.
It felt so good. Better, I was sure, than any sex had ever felt with anyone else, ever. I cried out in his ear with every thrust, not minding how hard he banged me into the countertop. Both his bag and mine had dropped to the floor in the heated rush, and I let my head fall back as he bit my neck and growled. My stomach clenched and dropped out from underneath. I couldn't come again this fast. I just couldn't.
How
could this be happening?
I cried out by his ear. He fucked me right through another orgasm.
People had filed off the bus by now and had to use the bathroom. We heard knocking, but we couldn't stop. And I couldn't hold in the noises. No doubt, whoever was outside that door could hear exactly what was going on as the slapping noises grew more urgent.
I'd never been fucked so hard before and it hurt.
My whole body jostled with every thrust.
The stranger's fingers tightened in my hair as he started to ejaculate, making me crazy with frustration and elation. I was on the pill, so I wished he hadn't been wearing a condom. I wanted to feel the rush of his hot cream spurting up inside me until it felt like someone had turned a faucet into my pussy. I told him that, and it drove him over the edge. The knocking grew more urgent, but he leaned over me and let himself experience the waves, pushing far inside me for each spurt.
His lips pressed against my forehead as he finished.
