A Bus To Dallas

The drone of the engines finally put me to sleep. When I

awoke, the bus was pulling into the station in yet another small

town. No one got off, but three people did get on, and after a

short time, we were on our way, again.

The blonde headed lady had slowly walked to the rear of the

bus, and finally seated herself across the aisle from me. I gave

her a small nod of the head and a brief smile. She acknowledged

the nod with a smile, and sat down. Although she said nothing,

she did glance at me more than once, and after we were moving,

she finally leaned across the void and asked where I was headed.

I replied and she said that was interesting, as she was headed to

Dallas, also. To visit her daughter, her married daughter.

She didn’t look old enough to have a married daughter, and I

told her so. She smiled at that, and said thank you to the

compliment, and then looked straight ahead, silently. I made

myself comfortable again, and went back to sleep. The next stop

woke me up, again, and as I looked sleepily around, saw that she

was looking at me.

“Did you enjoy your nap?”

“I guess,” I replied. “I really don’t remember much about

it.”

She laughed at that, and as the bus driver said that we would

be here for 15 minutes, she stood and stretched, somewhat showing

off her figure, and then moved forward and off the bus. She

returned about five minutes later carrying a small paper bag.

After she was seated, she emptied the bag, one article at a time,

laying the cans of soda, bags of chips, and a cold sandwich on

the empty seat next to her.

The sight of the soda cans suddenly made me very thirsty, and

heaving myself up, I too stretched and made my way forward and

off the bus. I got a Pepsi from the machine next to the terminal

door, and after popping it open, stepped back onto the bus and

returned to my seat.

She had watched me as I walked back down the aisle to my

seat, almost in the same manner as I had appraised the figures of

women as they walked. She had smiled at me as I slid into my

seat, and again after I had sat down. I had merely nodded an

acknowledgement.

When the bus finally pulled out of the terminal, we both

settled in for the ride. With another six hours before we

reached Dallas, I looked out the window as the west Texas country

side slid by, and marveled at the hues in the sky as the sun set

behind us. The few other passengers on the bus were several rows

ahead of us, and all appeared to be either reading or sleeping.

“My name is Carol,” she said as she reached over and touched

my arm with her hand.

“Oh..” I came out of my own little world. “Nice to meet you

Carol, my name is Keith.”

“Do you live in Dallas?”

“No. At least not yet. I am going to visit a friend, and

see about a job that may be waiting for me.” Since she had

already told me she was going to visit her married daughter, I

didn’t pursue the conversation.

“And just what is it that you do,” she asked?

“I am a commercial artist,” I replied. “Sometimes I get into

package art work, package design, and do some things with

computer graphics.”

“That sounds very interesting,” she said. “Would you mind if

I moved and sat next to you? It would make conversation a lot

easier.” I motioned for her to come on over, and as I started to

move to the seat next to the window, she said to stay where I

was, and slid in front of me and, half falling, dropped into the

seat next to me.

“There,” she said, “that’s a lot better. Now we don’t have

to yell at each other.” I nodded my head in response. We talked

a little, mostly about nothing. Finally, she was silent for a

minute or two, and then making some remark about the heater in

the bus being extremely efficient, she leaned forward and tugged

her sweater off over her head, settling back in the seat, finally.

Underneath her sweater, she had on a t-shirt, and underneath

it, nothing. Her nipples were prominent against the soft fabric,

and as I glanced at her, they poked out even further. She caught

the glance, and then, with a smile, smoothed the fabric out,

pulling it tight across her breasts.

It was obvious that she was built rather well, and proud of

it, too. We rode silently for a while. I sipped and finished

off my Pepsi, and as I tossed the empty can into the seat behind

us, she smiled at me.

“Do you know the difference between kinky and perverted?”

Her question caught me a little off guard.

“No,” I said. “But I am always glad to learn something new.”

“Well, kinky is where you use just a feather,” she said,

laughing. “And perverted is where you use the whole chicken.”

Her eyes were dancing as they stared into mine, trying to judge

my reaction, I guess.

“If that’s true,” I responded. “Then I guess I might be

considered a pervert. Though I never really thought about it

that much,” I added.

Again, she smiled. A knowing smile, if you know what I mean,

and then she said, “me too,” and laughed. Her hand moved from

her lap to my knee, tracing a light circle with her fingers. I

made no move to stop her, and as we rode along, her hand moved

higher and closer to my crotch, and once, as the bus lurched

across a bump, her hand grazed my cock. I turned to look at her,

but her eyes gave away nothing, just stared into mine and seemed

to say that she was doing exactly what she wanted to do.

Her hand became busy again, and as she lightly rubbed my

thigh, I saw in the dim light, that her nipples were even more

pronounced than they had been. I moved my hand to touch them,

and she moved herself so that I had full access to her breasts.

Her hand was still on my leg. After teasing them through the

thin fabric of the shirt, she finally tugged it out of the waist

of her skirt, and pulled it up so that her breasts were exposed

to my eyes and my fingers.

I traced small circles around her nipples, tracing the

outline of the aureole, and watched as her nipples continued to

grow. Her eyes were closed now. Her head back, enjoying this

stealthy exploration of her body in a semi-public setting. Her

lips parted and her tongue slid out, wetting her lips, and then

her tongue was gone. Her hand became busy again, rubbing my cock

through my jeans, softly at first and then more vigorously.

“I want to touch it,” she murmured. Her hands were busy at

the buckle of my belt. When she had it undone, her fingers

quickly undid the button at the waist and then she was pulling

the zipper down. Her hand was warm to my skin as she slid it

underneath the elastic band of my shorts, and as I raised my ass

up out of my seat, she tugged my jeans and shorts down, releasing

my hard cock from its almost painful confinement.

“It’s so hard,” she said, her fingers alternately stroking

and then fluttering softly and sensually up and down the length

of it. Her head dipped into my lap, and I felt the hot wetness

of her mouth as she slid the head of my cock in between her lips.

I moved a little as I felt her tongue move over the head of my

cock, and then she was gently but firmly stroking the length of

it with her hand, her head bobbing slowly up and down. It felt

great, and as she was starting to really get into it, the bus

slowed and took an exit off the interstate.

Click here to read more about this hot busride to Dallas and many other stories.

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