The Best Erotic Stories.

The Long Way Home
by Cairo

I looked down at my watch and glanced up the busy street. Pulling my jacket a little closer, I wondered for the third time why summer ever had to give way to winter. I had worked for the J. Morris Insurance Company for eight years, and I always found waiting for the 5:15 express a little easier when it was warm and sunny outside. The weather had always helped distract me from the less pleasant things about my life-including the miserable old man who drove the bus that took me home. I grimaced as I thought about seeing Mr. Sawyers again. On more than one occasion, the old bat had driven away while I was running toward the door of the bus. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but it was nearly impossible to do.

I sighed, and hid my hands in my pockets to warm them a little. Right then, I knew all I needed was to go home to my wife and two kids in the Greene Village complex. Hopefully, Joanne would be in a better mood than she was yesterday. My boss kept me working late on one of his million new financial projects, and when I walked into the house tired, broken, and beaten, all she wanted to know was why we couldn't buy a new car until next year. The argument lasted nearly three hours, and by midnight, I was so exhausted that I collapsed onto the couch and fell asleep. I shook my head as I remembered how I overslept, and nearly missed that morning's fiscal meeting. If I hadn't moved as quickly as I did, I would have had to face another tongue lashing from my overly critical boss.

The familiar screech of hydraulic brakes broke me out of my reverie, and I looked up to see the 5:15 approaching the stop. The four or five other people began milling around the corner, and the city vehicle pulled to a stop. I picked up my briefcase and began to walk toward the door, but when the door opened, an unfamiliar voice greeted us: "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. This is the 5:15 for Greene Village, Smith Gardens, and all points in between." The deep, soothing contralto was a welcome change from the brash, high-pitched bark I was so used to.

I was surprised to find myself feeling better. I filed forward, fumbling for my token. Stepping up onto the bus, I kept looking for my token, and then realized that in my rush to leave the house that morning, I forgot my bus token. As I got to the top step and looked up to face the driver, I know my mouth must have fallen open. Growing up in the south left a sweet spot in my soul for heavyset women, and the bus driver made me catch my breath. She looked up at me, and I forgot I was looking for a token. Her eyes were deep brown, and her skin was a shade or two darker than caramel. She had dimples, and those dimples framed her smile like mountains frame a sunset.

She smiled at me, brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, and asked, "Are you lost, sir?" I felt the warmth of embarrassment flooding up my neck and into my face. I stammered, "No- no, I just forgot my token." She turned toward me, and I couldn't help noticing the heavy curves shifting beneath her blue city uniform. I stole a glance at the "V" where her button down shirt met her skin. There was a neat dark line bisecting that letter "V" and deepening further into the protection of her shirt. I kept looking in spite of the little voice in my head that told me I was married, and discovered a knee length black pleated skirt. As I studied her, I felt a different kind of warmth moving through my body and settling in a very familiar place. Looking back, I think it was probably then that I decided I had to get to know her a little bit better.

Smiling up at me, she asked, "Where are you headed?"

I replied, "Greene Village. I promise I can pay tomorrow. But, I also know you have to do your job, so if--"

"Honey, don't even complete that sentence. You just stay here and ride as long as you want."

Relieved beyond words, I replied, "Thank you. Where is Mr. Sawyers?"

"Oh, haven't you heard? He decided on early retirement, and I'm the new driver for this route. "

And not a moment too soon, I thought to myself. I told the new driver, "Thank you," and turned to find a seat. While I was turning, I heard the quiet rustle of silk against silk as she moved her legs beneath the steering wheel. Thankfully, there were a few vacant seats near the front of the bus, and I sat in one where I hoped the driver and I could have a little more conversation. As she made the short trip between downtown and Greene Village, I learned her name was Sharon Yvonne Cole, and that she was 28 years old. As we talked, I learned that she was finishing her last year in college because she took a few years off to begin raising her child.

Before I knew it, we had pulled up to the bus stop at Greene Village. It was then that something unusual happened. I looked over at the Greene Village homes, and could make out my house, the windows, and even see that my wife's car was at home. It was evening, and judging from the lights on inside the house, the kids were home as well. I moved to stand up from my seat, but discovered that my legs wouldn't respond. Instead, I opened my briefcase, and picked up my cellular phone. Activating it, I tapped MEMORY 1 to call my house. My wife picked up the phone:

"Hello?"

"Hi hon, it's me."

"Where are you? I thought I asked you to come home early this evening! Don't tell me you're working late! I'm about sick and tired of trying to do all this by myself. It's not like you're making a million dollars an hour or anything. Go ahead and stay at that damn job as long as you want! Just don't wake the kids or me when you get home. "

I dropped my head as I realized my wife's anger had done all the lying I needed for that evening. I sighed and replied, "Yes, dear. See you as soon as I can."

"Whatever."

The click of the phone on the other end was a kind of confirmation for the plans I made that night. Sharon looked over at me and asked, "Well sweetie, you gonna get off or not?"

I bolstered myself for what I thought was a daring response, and replied, "No. If it's okay, I'd like to ride the rest of the route with you and keep you company."

She giggled, and said, "That would be just fine."

As the evening wore on, we talked about cars, sports, city transportation, dreams, kids, and life in general. The next five hours passed quickly, and I was having so much fun that I never even noticed that after a while, I was the only passenger left on the bus. She pulled up to Greene bus station, and said, "Sweetie, I have had a lot of fun with you, but this is your last chance. Right now, this is the last bus functioning on this side of the city. Are you going to get off or not?"

I looked at the two choices I had, and picked the one that I knew was right for me.

"I think I'll stay."

"I was hoping you would. Listen, if you want to talk a little more, I have to take the bus to the main station garage and park it. My car is parked out there, and if you like, I can give you a ride home."

Breathing a little faster, I answered, "Sharon, that would be great."

I don't know if it was my imagination or not, but I think the bus moved a little more quickly on the way back to the station garage. As she pulled up to the outer gate, she motioned for me to duck under my seat while she talked to the security guard. Feeling like a mischievous little boy, I was only too happy to comply. Now on the floor, I had a much better view of her legs. Her pantyhose were sheer, and there was a little black lace design running up the inseam of each leg. There was a quick exchange of words between Sharon and the security guard, and I felt the bus come back to life. After she pulled into the garage, she parked the bus and took the key out of the ignition. She turned to face me, and as she parted her knees to turn, I had a very good view of her wide, brown inner thighs. I must have been staring because it was then that I heard her say, "Okay, Shawn. You can come up now."

I looked up at her, expecting to get the cursing of my life for staring at her, but instead, she was just studying me, I stood up, and she motioned for me to come a little closer. The lights in the garage were already dim, and she turned off all the lights in the interior of the bus-except for the dashboard lights. I found it both surprising and amusing that it actually made a romantic environment. As I came closer, she brushed a hand over the curve of her chest, and spread her legs a little wider. I came as close as I dared, and that was when she wrapped my tie around her hand, and pulled me down to her face. We kissed, and as we kissed, it grew from short, soft pecks to longer and more lingering smacks.

After a few minutes, I felt the soft wetness of her tongue dividing my lips, and I welcomed it eagerly. Our tongues wrestled sloppily with each other, and I reached out to touch her. I rubbed the back of her head at first, then her shoulders, and then my hands found her breasts. I think it was then I realized that her hands were searching me in the same manner, roaming across my neck, chest, stomach, and finally to the top of my belt buckle. I cupped each of her heavy mounds through the fabric of her shirt, distantly aware that the fabric of my own slacks was taut as I responded to her advances. By then, she was breathing faster, and was using one hand to unfasten my buckle while the other hand was steadily flicking and teasing the two small, hard bumps that had formed on her chest. Between kisses, I whispered, "Sharon.. Let me help you out of these things. I want you."

She shuddered, and replied, "I want you, too."

Needing no further encouragement, I knelt in front of her and began unbuttoning her shirt while she used both hands to continue undoing my pants. At some point during this time, I managed to wiggle her out of her shirt, and I let my hands do the talking. I massaged her soft belly, rubbed her back, and kissed her up and down the side of her neck. I licked and nibbled at her neck, and it was then that a hot, musky scent brushed my nose. Her skirt was all the way up around her waist, and she used one hand to finger and massage the growing damp spot between her legs. I finally undid the four hooks in her bra, and peeled the garment from her body. As her breasts swung free into the night air, I again cupped the warm, pliant flesh in each hand. Using my thumbs, I stroked her nipples until both were stiff and jutting out from her breasts. She whispered, "Shawn, yes.." as I took the first proud nipple into my mouth. I sucked gently, letting my tongue move around and around the stiff bud as I continued massaging the other breast with my hand.

By then, I was almost painfully rigid with desire. She whispered, "Shawn, let me taste you." With some effort, I gave each nipple a last kiss before I stood up and she dropped to her knees. She deftly unbuckled my pants, and let the slacks fall to the floor. By then, I too had a tiny wet spot at the tip of the tent in my boxers. Pulling at the elastic waistband in my boxers, she pulled them down until my dick sprang out and bobbed at attention. Smiling, she looked at me approvingly, and fondled my balls. Now, I don't have the biggest dick in the world (my wife had pointed that out to me on several occasions), but I was proud of my 6" as it stood out from my body, pointing at her lips. She ran her tongue across each of her thick lips, and began to kiss and lick the top of my thighs, the bottom of my stomach, and the underside of my sac. When she ran her finger down the curve of my hip, I inhaled sharply.

I was desperate for her to take me into her mouth, and suddenly, she did just that. I almost lost control right there. The contrast between the cool night air and her warm, wet mouth was almost too much to handle. As she noisily moved her mouth back and forth over my dick, she squeezed my left cheek. She would stop at random intervals, and run her tongue along the sensitive spot just under my shaft. I was nearly panting by then, and had completely lost all of the suave cool that I thought men who had affairs were supposed to have. I found myself smiling, and realized that I was going to put everything I had into making her just as satisfied as she was making me. With that resolution, I pulled my stiff member out of her mouth, kissed her on the lips and said, "I want to make love to you right now. Can you help me take off your-"

Before I could finish the sentence, she stood up, crushing her chest into mine, and began frantically stripping away her pantyhose and underwear. I too moved quickly, ripping off my shirt, tie, and undershirt in a matter of seconds. As she took off her underwear, I dropped to my knees and ran my hands up and down her wide, soft thighs. I inhaled her soft, tangy scent, and squeezed her rounded cheeks in both my hands, and she again shuddered. She lifted her leg to kick off her shoes, underwear, and pantyhose, and it was then that I put one hand between her legs and pulled her womanhood into my waiting mouth. I let my tongue dart in and out, massaging her clit between my lips, and drinking in the sweet wetness gathering at the dark "V" between her legs.

The only sounds that could be heard at that point were our intermingled heavy breathing, my own insistent, quiet slurps, the occasional "pop" as I kissed her wet womanhood, and her soft moans. She whispered my name again and again, and as she put the first fully nude leg down, I felt her hand on my head, gently guiding my tongue into the wet folds of her body. She finally worked her other leg free of its entrapments, and I pulled back from my succulent, wet meal. I sat her down onto the bus seat. Her rounded globes bounced a little when she hit the seat, and I could stand it no longer. Moving to a crouching position, I aimed my stiff dick at her waiting body, and moved forward. She had lifted both legs to a spread eagle position, and I finally plunged into her very, very wet pussy.

Both of us moaned as our bodies joined each other. Both completely nude, we didn't even feel the night air as I pistoned in and out of her pussy. She was as into it as I was, and I could feel the muscles lining the inside of her canal rapidly milk my shaft as I rammed it into her again, and again, and again. She gripped my back, and I felt a familiar pressure beginning to build. She was thrusting back against my rhythm, grinding her crotch against mine as I worked closer and closer to orgasm. Her moaning was getting a little louder with each passing moment, and so was mine! I used one hand to tweak her nipple, and she started to shake. She moaned, "Shawn, I'm gonna come... I'm gonna come.... Mmmmm!"

I had been doing the best I could to make it last, but when she said that, I couldn't help myself. I spasmed inside her and shot load after load of cum deep into her pussy. She shook wildly, scratching my back, and arcing her torso against mine. Her muscles were squeezing me beyond pleasure undreamed, and for a second, my entire being was focused on the connection between our two bodies. I clenched my stomach muscles uncontrollably, grinding my dick into her body. She was still shaking, moaning, and calling my name-- and I know I was yelling hers. After what felt like an eternity, I finally let my limp, satisfied member fall out of her body. I kissed her passionately, and let my fingers brush her hypersensitive skin. Every so often, I would brush an unexpected place on her body with my fingers or tongue, and she would shudder as though having another mini- orgasm. I was completely drained, and I just fell to my knees and held her for a long while. I slowly became aware of the outside world. The windows in the driver's side of the bus were foggy, and time on the dashboard read 12:31 AM. I looked up at my new partner and ran my fingers through her hair. She leaned toward me and mumbled, "Hmm?"

"You know I'm married, right?"

"Yes, Shawn."

"And this doesn't bother you?"

"No, baby. I know from experience that marriage-especially to the wrong person-can leave a man or woman more alone than being single. Tonight was wonderful! I hope you'll be 'working late' a few more times. A big girl like myself could use some more of that kind of attention."

I laughed and said, "I guess you heard my phone call, huh?"

She replied, "Heard it? I was counting on it."

I laughed a little louder, and then we both helped each other get dressed. After a few more lingering kisses, I got into her car and she took me home. That conversation on the way home took place three months ago, and every Thursday, I find myself tapping MEMORY 1 on the cell phone.

Every Thursday, I tell my wife I'm working late.

Every Thursday, I take the long way home.

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