In Transit

"You can have the window," I insisted, having calculated what the logistics were going to require.

The bus was completely full by the time the remaining passengers boarded. My arrangement with my little admirer coming to sit next to me had been fortuitous indeed. Had I not arranged it, some other random person would have sat next to me, and frankly, I don't think I could manage another episode where I'm not completely in control, and that's how I like to be.

Well, usually, anyway.

If I have to admit it, the plaid-skirt girl bossing me around was actually pretty hot...

But I don't have to admit it, so I'm not going to. Ok? As far as you're concerned, I'm all about them boys, and I'm always in control. So let's just leave it at that.

Fortunately, the new passengers were even more eager than the long-haulers to get themselves settled down to sleep. They had roused themselves at some truly horrifying hour to get into the bus station in town in the below-freezing night air. They were looking for some shut-eye between now and our final arrival in the big city. The whole bus settled down pretty rapidly as the lights were dimmed, and before long, the drone of the engine, harmonizing imperfectly with the highway noise of the tires, was the only sound.

Not that I had wasted that time!

Once I got him seated, I pulled the blanket over our laps. Without discussing it with him, and looking straight ahead as if distracted, I put my hand under the blanket and tugged at the front of his pants. He understood immediately, and self-consciously wriggled and fussed until they were around his ankles. I explored with my diminutive little hand, finding his rock hard penis and the surrounding skin and hair was all slick with his secretion. The poor thing had been hard for hours on end!

As soon as the lights dimmed, I retrieved my hand, now more or less coated in a sticky film, and I leaned close to him so that in the darkness he would see, but nobody else would, as I slowly, sensuously, licked it clean.

This had an effect on his breathing that could have been a serious medical issue, except that I knew it was just his desperately suppressed arousal. He licked his lips as he watched me deliberately clean each finger, licking and sucking it, luxuriating in the sweetness of his precursory nectar.

By the time my hand was clean, the coast seemed clear. Clear enough, anyway. My thresholds for what constituted a clear coast had, admittedly, shifted dramatically during the trip, but everyone seems to be asleep, or heading that way rapidly.

I lay myself down on his lap, obviously tucking myself under the blanket, which he eagerly arranged over me. Then my face was right there against his penis, and the scent of him was thickly sweet. With the other hand, the one that had not been doused in his semen and licked clean for his enjoyment, I gently pulled him down into my mouth, and for a few long moments just breathed hot, wet air over his hyper-sensitive knob. The muscles in his legs flexed and twitched, belying a hair trigger, and extreme tension. I could see I was going to have to go slowly!

Presently, I closed my lips around him. I could feel him gasp. I waited not wanting to light the wick just yet.

When the tension in his body had subsided a little, I let my tongue rest against his hot, overstretched shaft. I then had to wait again, or risk ending the game immediately. I didn't want that. I was having fun!

Eventually, I began moving my tongue slightly, and in ever so small movements, started rocking so that there was a thrusting effect in and out of my mouth. But only extremely small, and very slow movements, you understand. I worked with him like he was a live grenade with the pin removed.

Garbled as the sound was, filtered through his torso, I could hear his breathing with the ear I had pressed against his abdomen. Each time I started a new movement, his breathing would break up into little sobs, and I would carefully nurse him back to steady breathing before proceeding further.

Soon, I was able to actually give him a bit more of a proper caress, thrusting him into my throat, and out to my lips, on a gentle, slow rhythm. The little guttural sounds he made were exciting to me, and I was using them to build myself toward my own climax. But slowly. Gradually.

Eventually, I had my hand involved, pumping him as my mouth provided the warm, wet socket for his thrusting, an action his hips were keen to provide.

I eventually had him where I wanted him. He was ready to blow, and I was his detonator. I just needed a moment more to fully bring myself to the precipice as well, and...

A fucking cow.

Can you... you're not going to believe this, but I'm telling you, we hit a cow.

And it's not like we hit it straight on, either. The driver swerved, shouting a curse, and the rear wheels slid sideways on a wet, possibly icy road, to sort of bat the cow fully off the road into the nearby paddock, like a bunt shot. I mean nobody knows how far it was actually flung, because apparently cows are made out of vibranium or something, and it walked away. Walked a fucking way!

Well, the timing was perfect, of course. And by perfect, naturally, I mean perfectly fucking terrible. There I was under the blanket, being tossed around in a lurching, skidding bus as it collided with an animal weighing as much as 8 or ten people, staring down the shaft of a loaded penis aimed at my face, which chose that moment to explode, shooting everywhere, a veritable mini Vesuvius.

It was way out of control. I mean, I had worked this boy up with a head of steam that could launch a space shuttle, and when it started, it just wouldn't stop. The whole underside of the blanket was coated in it, and so was so all of my hair, and my face. I was smeared and globbed with it as I tumbled around helplessly.

You may not believe me, but you know what? I don't care. That's what happened.

So there I was, eventually, crumpled in a heap on the floor, a sticky blanket hanging over my face. For his part, my happily ended victim was urgently yanking his pants up in anticipation of the lights coming on. Mercifully, the driver had not turned up the internal lights before leaping out the bus door to investigate, so all the passengers were awake, of course, but in darkness.

I scrambled back to my seat, but all I had to hide my face was the same sticky blanket that had spread its shameful contents all over me already. I needed it to hide me, but at the same time it meant I was writhing around in goop. And it just kept spreading and spreading. What is that stuff even made of?

I stole a glance at my partner in crime, and I admit that the look of abject horror on his face made me break out in an uncontrollable giggle. He was aghast, trying to come up with some sort of apology, as if it was his fault! But wasn't him, it was me! If I hadn't edged him so cruelly for so long, and then purposely brought him up to the boil, it wouldn't have happened this way. This was on me! And it most certainly was on me. All over me.

In giggling whispers I managed to convince him that it was my own fault, and actually hilarious. It took several minutes, but eventually he managed to chuckle as well. I used one finger to scoop up some of the sticky mess from near my eye, and popped it into my mouth as a bit of a tease, as we both giggled at my predicament.

Once we regained our composure, which didn't take long, because the vibe of the horrified, shaken passengers in the bus was not really compatible with giggling and laughing, we huddled together to try to figure out what I was going to do. I was a complete disaster zone.

First, he suggested, he would provide a tie for my hair. I was surprised that he would have something suitable to hand, but then he showed me what he had in mind. He pulled from his pocket a small square packet. He tore it open and produced a condom. I gasped, pretending to be scandalized, and he started giggling. That made me also giggle. Then we were both snorting suppressed laughter like we were drunk teenagers, but continuing our whispered conversation, he urged me to be quiet with some "shhh" amid the chuckles, so he could show me what he was thinking.

He bit the tip off the condom, which wasn't as easy as he had apparently thought it would be. It turned out to be a whole episode of tugging and yanking at it with his teeth, as I snorted my barely suppressed laughter into my semen-smattered hand.

Finally, he managed to tear a hole in the tip, and got his finger through it to widen the rift. Presently, he had a rubber ring surrounded with shards of broken rubber. It was a clever idea, but I whispered in protest, "You want me to put that on my head??"

"Oh, come on! It's a rubber band. At least it's something, right?" He really was trying hard to solve the problem for me. For my part, I hadn't stopped finding it all terribly funny. But I suppressed my laughter for long enough to look contrite, and accepted it from him.

"Yes, ok. It's very clever. As you say, it's something," I smiled at him as I let the blanket fall away in the still dark cabin, and used the rubber to put my hair up, once again, only this time without the benefit of a brush or a comb, and with the added detail of clumps of sticky cum all through my hair. But I got it into a loose ponytail, conscious that my excited breasts were showing off now that my arms were raised, and my hairband donor did not fail to notice.

Once I had it tied back, I said, "How do I look?"

He replied, with a note that was far more serious than I was looking for, "You look amazing."

I snorted a laugh, and retreated my face back into my sticky hands. "Ohh, what a disaster!"

When I looked up again, I was alarmed to see that he had pulled off his hoodie and his t-shirt. He handed me the t-shirt, saying, "Will this help?", even as he started putting the hoodie back on.

I looked at the t-shirt and reflected that, you know, it really would. Maybe I could get away with this yet. I smiled a heartfelt thanks and began cleaning myself up with it. As it turned out, I had plenty of time. It was more than an hour before the bus got moving again, and by then I had managed to remove at least most of the more obvious goop patches. He and I had both worked together to clean me up, and he had seemed to enjoy the process, making it a tender experience. It's not a post-coital celebration I'd want to soon repeat, but he had managed to make something sweet from it, and that's no small thing.

"You know, you haven't fulfilled either of my conditions, yet," I observed, as we were getting my face half way presentable.

"I know, I so sorry," he started to apologize.

I cut him off, saying, "Oh, we've still got time." I smiled warmly. "For both of them".

He was struck completely without words at that, and motionless. It took several long seconds for his brain to start processing properly again, and even then, all it could produce was a soft-voiced, "You're incredible."

Not that I'm bragging, I mean any guy is likely to tell you something like that after you've sucked his dick, amirite? But it was still kinda nice to hear.

I was exhausted, but also still aroused. Sleep was threatening to overwhelm me, but the idea of one more attempt was thrilling. What to do?

It would be another hour before the dawn would start to make itself apparent in the eastern sky. With low whispers, and some improvised calculations, we agreed that he should set his alarm on his watch for 45 minutes. We could both get a little shut-eye, and as soon as the alarm sounds, we agreed, I would get back to work, and do it properly this time, swallowing every drop as agreed.