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 of 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