I was on one of my many Greyhound trips, traveling from some hum-drum city in rural Missouri to go back to California to visit some friends for the summer, on a bus somewhere in Montana that was mostly empty.

If I recall correctly, there were only about fifteen of us on that particular bus, so I was sitting sideways, with my ankles crossed over the aisle. Most of us were, some were even laying down, sleeping even though the Montana countryside was beautiful.

I don't remember when he got on the bus, really. I just remember that he took the seat across the aisle, slightly behind me. He was tall, enough that he had to stoop quite a bit so as not to bang his head on the roof of the bus.

He had dark hair, and a good day's worth of stubble on his face, black jeans and a blue tee shirt. It's odd that I'd remember that, though I can clearly see myself as well. Black sundress, black flipflops, green purse, and my dark green travel blanket bunched in my lap as I worked on a crossword puzzle.

At the first stop after he boarded, several of us climbed out for a cigarette. He wordlessly asked for one from me, and I handed it over, and we both chatted with other passengers.

Some may consider it strange, but we never said a word to each other. Not a single word, aside from a whispered "sshh!" in my ear later on. No names were exchanged, no numbers. Nothing. Just a moment of heat.

I don't remember how it all started, but I remember him touching my ankle, his thumb brushing against the inside of my foot. His fingers worked their way along my calf (because by now I'd slouched a little and had my foot resting on the seat in front of him) and after several long minutes, he stood up, and I moved over.

We sat there, wordlessly, quietly in our seat, listening to the tires rolling over the pavement, and watching the sun slowly begin to set over the rocky terrain. His arm was slung over my shoulder, and as the rays of light kissed the distant mountains, his hand covered one of my breasts.

It's a slight blur, getting from that moment to the one where he pulled my legs over his lap, leaning one knee against the seat in front of us.

My blanket was unfolded, flipped and settled across us, from my chin down past my knees as he curled me into him. I sighed as his fingers caressed my bared nipple, and the other hand slid up beneath my skirt, along my thighs.

In moments, his long fingers were inside me, his thumb rubbing that tiny bud, driving me into a frenzy. No kisses were shared, nothing but touch. I whimpered, I think, and he squeezed me tight and whispered, "Sssh" before sliding his fingers faster.

He let me get so close, before gently putting me away from him, and turning to look out the window behind me, opening his jeans. His cock was thick, and was already leaking precum, which I scooted down and licked away.

A tiny noise of appreciation escaped him, and my world went dark as the blanket covered me, hiding me from any prying eyes.

I swallowed his cum, and with a big grin as I sat up, he pulled the blanket over my legs again, and fingered me until I came, biting at his offered neck to keep from crying out.

We cuddled in that cramped bus seat as best that we could, my legs still over his lap, and my blanket covering us both. We napped off and on, wordlessly splitting cigarettes on each stop until three hours later, we reached his destination.

I waved, and still not a word was spoken as he walked into the arms of a woman I could only assume was his girlfriend. We both smiled and waved as the bus pulled back onto the highway, and I went back to my crossword puzzle.

I'll remember it forever, that forbidden taste of pleasure on that dusty Greyhound, and not regret the words that were never spoken.