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Late Night Bus
By
Kasey

Late Night Bus

Ben makes and receives a deposit at the depot...
It's a beautiful, foggy English night.

Panting, my lungs aching from the cold, I reach the bus stop at a dead run skidding to a halt on the loose crumbling tarmac. The salty taste of Steve's cum still fresh on my tongue and my anger unabashed.

Catching a breath, I realise just how much I love nights like these. The ubiquitous street lights struggle to penetrate the gloom of their individual kingdoms, the trees and shrubs of this quiet suburban avenue glistening darkly in the moist chilled air, the faceless people just out of arm’s reach, all but lost within the silky veil.

I’m surrounded by my own little bubble of forgetfulness. A kind of Heaven. It pulls its angelic shroud around me, protecting, even if only temporarily, against the nightmares of life with its constant reminders of just how much this existence truly hates me.

A comfort blanket for the soul I guess.

I’d lost my driving licence doing something really damm stupid a few months back, since then I have had to walk everywhere. It used to be a thirty-five minute troll from the old place to the bus, well a slow amble for me if I was being really honest; now it’s just out the front door and down the pea-shingle drive. One of the main reasons I took the offered room so readily, the other being I had to get away from my nutjob family.

My Mother had ducked out ages ago, as far as I knew she was still touring the Casinos on the south coast. No great loss as far as I was concerned, she had terrorised her only son, ‘my greatest mistake’ as she used to constantly remind me.

My Dad. Weak, down-trodden and boring. He had found someone else fairly quickly, suspiciously so judging by the neighboured gossip. And just as quickly been dumped. I crowned his ex, the scariest bitch I have ever met, in fact, she should be on the cover of Psychotic Monthly, "The Fuck-up's Guide to Women" would be her personal headline.

My sister? Jesus, just don’t go there. My twin, crazy as bat shit and my personal nemesis. The better half of our duo apparently, the one my dear Mother could dress so prettily without comment. She’d put us in matching frocks when we were young, like peas in a pod they would say, the family album was testament to that. But when I began to realise that wasn’t how little boys were meant to look, her spite began to manifest. Kids can be cruel, even at play group, and if it wasn’t my delicate pink dress that drew their teasing, it was my long blonde hair. I started to ask questions, to rebel; I didn’t want to be different to the other boys. The owner of the progressive nursery actually tore-up our contract when she realised I wasn’t a willing transgender child and called the police when my Mum had one of her ‘conversations’ and spectacularly trashed her office.

Is it any wonder I have no interest in females? None. Not a hint. Bonkers the bloody lot of ‘em.

"Where's that damn bus?!" I complain, shouting to no-one in particular. The twin headlamps of a local cat glance nonchalantly in my direction. The damp air was drawing the little heat my thin uniform retained and I was rapidly losing my patience.

I had finished work early that day, so as all good girls do, I took full advantage of the unexpected opportunity. After a lovely hot scented shower and close shave of my naughty bits, I had slipped on my favourite feminine friends. A pair of sensuous, almost black seamed stockings with deep lace tops, a beautiful black and red lace basque (with more frills and lace than is strictly necessary), a matching sheer lace thong with red satin panels and a dead sexy layered net garter. I just love lace, lace, lace and more lace, what can I say? The look was finished off by my brand new black patent 3” Mary Janes.

I don't know about other guys, but this is me, my release. It brings a semblance of contentment, a sense of peace. Something I have so little of in my crappy life.

I critically appraised myself in the hall mirror. Okay so no make-up or gorgeous waist length brunette hair, but hey, it was my day off. I pouted at my reflection, blowing it a kiss. Irresistible! A few extra pounds were clearly showing, but my image dared a comment, the diva indignant and unrepentant. All in all, one fucking horny bitch.

Then with a bang, it was back to reality. Why the hell did I take that barmen's job? I really hadn’t fancied going back out again tonight, not now. Sighing I headed for the sofa. My flatmate, landlord, benefactor, take your pick, would be back from work soon. He kind of knows about my passion, it would be difficult for him not to as he had unexpectedly gone down the washing machine one evening, but he had never seen me dressed and I had no intention of allowing him that honour anytime soon either.

Making a detour to the kitchen, I grabbed a four-pack of ciders from the fridge and vowing to replace them before Steve could notice. It was a cheap brand, more chemical than fruit but it usually hit the mark. I also broke off a slab of his cheese from the better end of the block, the one that wasn’t growing a fur-coat against the chill. In for a penny, I muse, slamming the door home.

Running through the inevitable backlash in my mind's eye, I couldn’t help but smile. A BJ should make us quits. I giggled. But Steve’s views were strict, a fuck was a fuck, a friend was a friend, never to be mixed.

I dropped onto the sofa, fighting off the avalanche of cushions with one hand while opening a tin with the other in one well practiced fluid motion. I lounged around for a while drinking, stroking my nyloned legs absently, catching up with ‘friends’ on yet another website. Getting pretty worked up if truth be told, by some of their galleries. My free hand delved into my hardness’s satin prison; gently stroking, slowly, sensuously. Just a few minutes I’d thought, plenty of time before I had to get going. I began to daydream about taking some of those gorgeous creatures to bed, to feel their silk clad bodies rubbing against my own, their stiff unfeminine giveaways ploughing deep inside me.

I came to with an almighty start.

“For fucks sake you bastard, leave my cans alone!” the cry had rang out in my ears as the fridge door was almost knocked off its hinges.

Jumping off the three seater with all the grace of a flatulent walrus in my new heels, I’d sent my laptop on a one way trip to silicon hell. With a sickening crunch, it’d hit the laminate; it’s various essential components, now freed from their previous intimacy, making their bid for freedom in every direction. I could only watch with resigned horror as the explosion of plastic waltzed across the floor.

"Perfect. Just bleeding perfect," I’d grumbled.

It was only then that my sleep ravaged brain had taken notice of what my various alcohol infused senses were screaming. Steve was home. And not alone.

"Hi lover!" he’d beamed.

He’d taken a second to look me up and down, standing before him visibly shaking and laying a brick in my panties. Without saying a word he’d come around from the back of the sofa.

"Who are you fucking tonight?" he’d said, reaching out and fondling the contents of my knickers.

Steve is not subtle. In fact he prides himself on his lack of diplomacy skills; bragging about how, and who, he’d upset that day in grisly infinite detail was his calling in life.

That last comment had been a compliment, believe me.

"No-one! Sorry," I’d whimpered, "I finished work early."

"It looks like it honey. Well shame to waste all that effort." He’d winked, as one of his fingers had slipped into my mouth.

Oh god. I’d started to suck it automatically, Kasey, my alter ego, the whore inside, taking over our confused body. My eyes closed, drawing in his invading digit with gusto.

"You are such a filthy slut. See Alice, I told you he was a crosser. Now on your knees girly," he laughed.

“I can’t,” looking at Alice with wide eyes, “I’ve got to get changed for work. I’m going to miss the bus and my boss will chew me out royally this time.” I’d pleaded. By this time I had given up trying to cover my finery and resigned myself to their mocking stares.

“That’s ok,” he’d leered, “Alice will drive you after. She loves watching guys having fun. Consider it your taxi fare.” He’d winked at his friend.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” she’d laughed as she sat down opposite, legs spreading and a hand disappearing under her floral cotton crotch. Her finger finding its mark with a self-satisfied sigh.

Oh, fuck it.

I sank to the floor so my eyes were level with his belly button. The strong odour of his work clothes had assailed my nose. I do prefer a clean, hair free cock, but at that moment I couldn't care less, I reached up to free his beast from it’s hi-vis confines. The seven and a half inch rod jumped to attention just millimetres from my waiting lips and then it hit the back of my throat as I greedily sank his shaft to the root.

The moans from its owner were a testament to my expertise. I’d slowly withdraw, my tongue swirling beneath his glans as I went and then sank right back with a loud smacking sound. I’d kept this going for a couple of minutes, the mounting quivering in his legs being the giveaway that my prize was getting close. I pulled back so his dick was just inside my lips and rammed two fingers straight up his arse.

“Shit!” he cried as his cum had exploded over the roof of my mouth. My fingers milked him as he shot, making sure I had every last drop.

He’d staggered backward, sweat beading his face. I’d looked up and smiled my best ‘who me?’ smile. I’d opened my mouth to display my prize, played with its contents with my tongue before swallowing the full load with a happy gulp.

“Fuck me, I need to try that,” said a stunned Alice, still frigging her bean with manic intensity.

"Aren't you meant to be somewhere?" Steve had then grinned evilly, “I may have lied. No, I did lie. We were dropped off by Sal, Alice had too much to drink tonight so hasn’t got the car. Payback time!” he’d laughed.

"Bugger it! I’m going to get fired you twat!" I’d shouted.

God, no time to change! I’d unbuckled the Marys and launched into my room with laughter resounding behind me, grabbed my work trousers from the bed and yanked them up. Thanked the gods that the shirt was not a button-up and slipped it over my head. Stockinged feet plunged into my cleanest trainers and I’d dived out into the night, almost ripping the collar from my work jacket where it had caught on the hallway hook.

And now here I was, freezing my backside off waiting for the last bus.

The bus stop had no shelter; being only a tatty metal plate strapped to an equally tatty lamp post. I looked at the stained timetable and breathed a sigh of resignation, missed it. Bollocks! I looked both ways, straining to make out headlights but not being able to see much of anything.

"Fuck you, Steve," I hissed.

Out of the gloom a pair of dulled dirty head-lights suddenly took form along with the glowing number 28. But it wasn’t slowing down.

"Oh not again, not tonight!" I whined.

As I was the only sad case that ever tried to get on from this stop, the majority of the bus drivers looked out for me, but not in this case. Frantically, I started waving my arms like a demented dervish, trying to catch the driver's bored attention. The poor guy just wasn’t expecting a shouting banshee to launch itself at his closed door in the dead of night.

With my fist bouncing off the glass, I watched in abject horror as the creaking rust bucket came to a jawing halt; the driver obviously panicking and slamming the brake pedal through the floor. The lone passenger, in mid text, was launched down the aisle at the precise moment he drew level with my stunned gaze.

"Nuts," I whispered.

Rather sheepishly I headed to the door, knocking when I still hadn't been noticed. To my surprise, I wasn't greeted by the dead fish stare that I've come to expect from the graveyard shift but instead by the appraising attention of a middle-aged lady. And a far too familiar one at that. Oh god, it had to be the psycho bitch of my Dad’s, tonight of all nights.

The door only half-opened, the right hand side refused to move after a low grating noise stopped it in its tracks.

"Sorry," I blurted, "it’s the fog, sorry, I thought you hadn't seen me."

The stern face was still turned in my direction, one eye-brow rising in a distinctly Roger Moore'ish impression, but with slightly better make-up.

"Errrm. I’m sorry?" I added, feeling like I was facing my old teacher.

Her eyes scanned me from floor to crown and then back down to my face. I felt the colour drain from my cheeks. Half expecting to be given a hundred lines, I wilted. Inexplicably, I also desperately need to use the loo. Really really badly.

"Where to?" an unexpectedly calm and sultry voice enquired.

"Umm, single to town," I said.

The eye-brow rose another half a millimetre.

"Please?" I added, slamming the contents of my pocket on the metal plate without looking.

She looked down at my fare and then stared back at me with the same stern expression.

Confused, I looked. And died.

Instead of the £3.40 in carefully counted change, there was instead a pair of my prized purple panties, with their white lace trim and large complimenting rear bow.

I stared back, cold sweat prickling my spine.

"Pretty," she winked, “but not quite my size.”

I quickly gathered them up, hands shaking with a mixture of nerves, and more worryingly, distinct knicker expanding excitement.

"I...I...err...I," I stuttered as I tried to redeem the situation.

"Yours?" she coolly enquired, her smile clearly indicating she knew the answer.

"Oh god, no," with a false laugh, "No... definitely not... no." it's at moments like these when your brain waves a white flag from its bunker, "They are," still struggling to find a decent spade to backfill the hole I’d dug, "they're my sister's!”

What the fuck, my sister’s?!

Her plucked eyebrow was joined by its colleague, arching in genuine surprise.

I felt my face blush as my rising semi fled for the hills. Where was the bloody money, I patted my pockets feverishly.

Laughing, she offered me an escape route, "It's okay, pay me when you get off," she said, winking with her deep brown eyes.

I started walking down the aisle, with the strangest feeling that I was being mentally undressed. No, not that subtle. Stripped, oiled-up and hand-cuffed to a bedstead would be closer.

She floored the throttle, her unreadable expression staring at me from the security mirror. I just managed to grab the nearest pole the instant after it collided with my head. She pulled away from the kerb in a swirl of mist, I swear I could smell the acrid odour of burning rubber.

I struggled to get to a seat without falling over, my ears ringing. The road was full of potholes, left over from the recent flooding and she was avoiding them with all the practiced skill of a myopic Formula One driver. With relief, I collapsed into the worn upholstery with an agitated groan. Over the next couple of miles, I searched in vain for the money, realising it must be still sitting on the coffee table back at the flat.

"Shit," I said under my breath. Now, what the heck do I do. I looked out into the night, unconsciously writing 'help!' in the condensation.

The next stop materialized from the fog a little later. My fellow traveller sidled past me, glaring. Thinking he was going to say something I didn’t want to hear, I tried smiling to defuse his red-faced demeanour.

He ceremonially dumped his smashed mobile in my lap.

"Cheers. Nice one mate," he growled, carrying on to the front of the madly lurching cabin.

That could have been worse I thought.

The bus pulled away again, pushing me back into the seat with a thump. She seemed in a hell of a hurry I mused, rubbing the whiplash out of my neck. The headache was getting worse.

I recognized my stop and levered up ready, pressing the bell without thinking. It was the last one before the depot anyway so there was no point as they always stopped there. Another bad habit.

"One of many," I said, impersonating my AWOL Mother. The feeling of my stockings brushing the inside of my trousers pleasantly reminding me I was still dressed. So nice and naughty, should do this again I grinned.

"Errr," I mumbled with confusion as the stop flashed past.

"Excuse me." I tried shouting over the straining engine.

I moved forward, swaying from pole to pole like a trainee chimp having a really bad day. For godsakes, I thought, she is going to go off her trolley if I'm late again. But I watched with dismay as the club I worked at came and went. What the hell was the driver playing at? I was hurled into the baggage tray.

"What the fuck!" now seriously losing it as I rubbed the forming bruise.

We had swung into the bus depot and she seemed to be attempting to park at full speed in a space just large enough for a mobility scooter. The lights went out, the engine shut down. The silence was deafening. I stood, fearing to move, my heart hammering.

You hear about this sort of thing. There'll be a pack of sex crazed female zombies banging the windows any second. My head was pounding still; I shook it and almost passed out.

With a loud resounding clang, I watched as the drivers cab door was swung violently open. A booted foot clumped onto the deck, as a figure rose from behind the wheel. The hooded silhouette slowly filled the aisle and began to sway towards me, dragging one foot behind. Looming in my face, the heavy rasping breath fetid with its last meal. A lone church bell chimed in the distance, an owl hooted.

Too much cider-fuelled imagination I concluded; jesus, my head hurt.

The driver moved the cigarette to one side, her lighter being pocketed in the same deft movement.

"Well you're a horny little fucker," she said, a finger stroking my face.

"I always knew you were kinky Ben, even before you presented me your knickers. But when I saw the basque you're wearing in my mirror, well, you made my mind up for me! You should have really pulled your shirt down at the back." she grinned.

Reaching into the top pocket of her uniform she pulled out a mobile, brought it up and snapped a picture with a flash. Fuck! All I could see were stars. When my vision had cleared a little, I saw her typing on the screen, then, with a grin that resembles the look a cat gives a mouse, she popped it back in her jacket.

"Now, there's two rules. One, you don't talk. Two, you don't touch. Understand?" she looked at me expectantly.

"Sorry?" is all I managed as her finger wiped my lips.

"Tch tch. Not a quick learner then," she said and slapped me.

“What the fuck?” I squeaked, just as my other cheek received the same treatment.

“Sssh!” she hissed as she licked the finger.

“Mmmm fresh, right little cock-sucker too then?” she smiled.

With that, my shirt was pulled roughly over my head. I heard a sigh as my saloon-girl basque came into view. A pair of strong, small hands began their slow sensual progress from my bare shoulders to my cups, and slowly down to my waist. They lingered there, their owner shaking ever so slightly.

God. I had never been with a woman. And now it was happening like this! My stomach lurched.

My red satin encased cock made up it’s own mind and chased all traces of trying to escape from my numbered thoughts.

I stared at her eyes. The mix of emotions I could see were mesmerizing. Not the simple revulsion I was used to, but a flow from admiration, to outright lust as her hands converted my lace finery. I started to reach out and received another resounding slap.

"No!" she snarled.

Her hands moved to her uniform, undoing the buttons of the tunic with practised ease. I just stared, open mouthed, as the huge womanly mounds were revealed, struggling to be free from their sheer red confines, her large nipples so hard and so close.

The blouse followed, her fingers moving in a blur, all I could do is gasp. Her bra was exquisite! Gold embroidered red lace, large and half-cup. God, where can I get one! I felt a pair of hands caress my hair, then my head was forcibly pulled down as my still aching lips making contact with a waiting hard pearl. My tongue reached out and gently lapped in the brief moment before my face plunged into her soft cleavage; greedily sucking at my erect prize.

"Mmmm, suck your Moma's tits. Harder!" she orders.

The scent of this lady was intoxicating – licking, nibbling, drooling – her left hand pressing me into her with a vice like grip. Her right glides down the back of my neck, touching my shoulder length, blond locks, but quickly diving into my basque, seeking my own small tits. I let out a muffled yelp, as her fingers reached a nipple and pinch with such force that I swear she was trying to rip one off.

"Thought so, you like rough play don't you?"

"MGGGMMMMHHH!" I tried to scream as her long nails dug in.

Released, I gasp for breath, the pain from my tortured chest causing a reaction of equal intensity in my panties. Jesus, she is a certifiable! No wonder my Sunday Supplement Father couldn’t keep up. My eyes start looking for a way out, but I quickly realised I would have to get physical to stand a chance. Making a grab for my shirt I tense ready to barge past.

"Really?" the finely crafted eyebrow raised once more.

Even though this red-headed siren stood a full head shorter than me, her shove revealed a frightening strength. Stumbling, I tried vainly to grab anything to regain my balance. Another strike.

This continued until I fell backwards onto the row of seats, my legs splaying.

"That solves a problem," she laughed, "But stop struggling for fuck's sake, its not like I'm going to hurt you," but adding almost, as an afterthought, "much."

She grabbed my crotch, her strong hand making contact with my painful bulge. But, being surprisingly gentle, she started to kneed, her expert touch eliciting a quiet moan.

"A dick can never lie," she grinned.

Slipping my trousers down my collaborating, treasonous legs, she removed the last of my feminine modesty. But she doesn't take them off completely, I realised with trepidation there is now no way I could make another bid for the door without falling flat on my face. My cock, suddenly freed, sprang to full panty covered attention.

"I always wondered how big it was." she croons, her hand disappearing under the lace.

Oh god, my body makes a total veto on all my higher brain functions. Her fingers wrap themselves around my shaft and begin stroking. The patch of wetness at the tip spreading rapidly, darkening the frail fabric.

"Ooooo." a girly whimper escapes my quivering lips, my eyes closing.

I feel her hot breath blow over my intimacy as the material was pulled to one side. Followed by the wet, firm moistness of her mouth as it descended to my belly. My tip engulfed by a fully experienced throat, her tongue danced in perfect time to a silent symphony.

Kasey screamed in my head. Hate women do you? Hah! My mistress, my conscience; constantly in battle with my born sex laughed in my ears.

The Gurl surrenders completely to the Woman expertly working between my legs.

Too soon, I feel the cool night air savagely envelope my cock as her mouth released me. I was panting, the grasping of my laboured breath raw in the absolute stillness. My tortureress turned and looks me in the eye, the shocking coldness I see there sending shivers down every nerve.

"Good. Don't speak. I don't want a man. I have one already. Plenty of them in fact. I want a sweet girl of my own. Do you think that’s you?" she cooed seductively, her hand working with uncomfortable speed.

All I could do is nod and stare.

She rose to her full height; her skirt and top removed. She was standing before me, a full, wondrous figure that the years have not had the wit to claim. Her breasts, now completely free of their silk embrace, drew my gaze like a moth to a flame. The ample nipples, hard, engorged with pent up desire, begged to be kissed and worshipped.

She laughed. Her powers were thus confirmed. Her perfect black stockinged legs framed by the most beautiful red lingerie I had ever seen. And I have seen plenty, trust me.

Stradling me, her hands seeking my thighs for support, her crotchless panties descend. The perfectly smooth, perfectly formed arse in front of me, it’s dark star already glistening with lube, pushed against my cock. With a faint gasp, it entered her tightness, inch by mind-boggling inch, I watched as I was compelled inside her. Finally, reaching the base of my shaft, her ring started to caress, to milk. Our moans merged into one animalistic cry.

With the grace of a gymnast half her age she swiveled, turning to face me. The look of her lust cementing my desire to make her cum, to please her, my own needs so unimportant and insubstantial. I tried to add my own urgency to her thrusting, but instead of my intentions being welcomed, I was caught in a vice like grip.

"NO!" she admonishes.

I relaxed my hips, startled by the venom of her rebuke. Satisfied, she resumed working my cock inside her arse. Rising slowly, and then plunging taking my full length in one exquisite motion, our juices squelching. Red painted fingers glide up tensing nyloned thighs, and came to rest against their mutual owner's hard clit. Leering down at her now willing prisoner, exulting in her utter control, she began to stroke herself.

Her grip on me is growing tighter as her ardour intensifies, my pleasure now transforming into fear. My body refusing to obey my panicking mind, continues the build-up to its inevitable explosive release.

With a screech of triumph, her orgasm launches skyward, dragging my aching cock in its wake. Convulsions rip through me as I cum in turn, shooting a fountain of my precious fluid deep inside her quivering hole. Again. Again. Again. After a seeming age, the haze clears, and my abused sex is dropped as she rises on shaking limbs.

"Jesus," she exclaims with a hint of awe," I needed that. By the feel of what is running down my legs, so did you. Okay, one last thing Kasey. Lick it up!"

Her backside appears in my vision, with little choice I start licking my cum from the back of her thighs, working up to her crack. My tongue tries to rebel, but with insistent pressure it finds its way into her puffy ring, lapping up our combined juices.

"There's a good girl. Moma always knows best." she chuckles, looking down at my spent, unmoving form as she grinds her hole in my face.

“Oh, and how do I know your girl name? It’s surprising what you can find in drawers, you should be far, far more careful sweetie.”

"I'm also really glad you don't take after your Dad. He has no imagination and was totally useless in the sack. I guess that's why your Mum dumped him in the first place? But why the hell I ever got with him is beyond me."

She moved to one side, laughing to herself as the bus was lit up by approaching headlights.

"Fuck!" I struggled to rise.

"Lay still honey," ignoring her I tried to sit up, "I said, lay still! It’s only one of my boyfriends." She shoved me back down.

"I’m sorry?” I stuttered.

“Have you had a black cock?” she enquired.

Flipping me over with surprising ease I felt first one, then two, then three and finally four fingers forcibly jammed inside me. I yelped with pain.

“Aha, not that innocent are you? I bet that sweet arse has been fucked by all sizes. Well lucky you, here comes a bloody huge one! I invited my biggest stud to meet me." she chuckled, showing me her mobile phone.

The sent message showed the startled, rabbit-like portrait she had taken of me earlier. Below it were just two words.

"Bring lube!"

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