Considerate Boyfriend Pt. 01

Considerate Boyfriend

Torby is Doomed

"Excuse me sir. Do you mind if I sit next to you?"

It was a soft, cautious voice. I slowly closed the book I had just opened. I had been saving this novel, looking forward to reading it on this long cross-country bus ride. It was by my favorite author. Now, out of the blue, someone wanted to sit next to me. Probably a talker, I thought. Probably a nonstop talker who believed in their horoscope and faithfully gobbled up every word from the latest, greatest combination nonstick frypan-slash-duck-call commercials they had ever seen advertised on TV. Before I even looked up, I knew was DOOMED to hours of endless chatter. I was stumped. Out of all the seats on a nearly empty bus, they wanted to sit next to me.

I looked up slowly from my window seat and decided I might be mistaken. In the aisle beside me stood a young girl who looked to be perhaps eighteen or nineteen. She was petite, with short blonde hair that had been streaked a light, bright, cotton-candy blue in the fashion that was popular among young people. Blue hair was not one of my preferred hair colors in women, but it was becoming on her. She was slender, clad in a simple shapeless sack of a dress and wearing simple leather sandals. In her hands were a pair of matching grocery store bags -- the kind advertised as environmentally responsible to people who felt they were responsible for such things, and for many other people, these bags served as a durable, inexpensive means for toting all of their worldly possessions. I concluded I may have been surveying all of this young lady's worldly possessions.

I stared a moment longer, then stuttered out, "W-w-ell, yes. I suppose so."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you! My boyfriend Tommy told me to find the friendliest looking person on the bus and sit next to them! Thank you!"

All of these words spilled out as the young lady hurriedly stashed one of the bags behind us in the empty seat and settled into the seat beside me. Though we did not make physical contact, I could feel the warmth radiating from her slender frame immediately.

"I'm Sydney," she announced with her next breath and thrust her hand out at me for a shake.

"Torby," I said simply as we shook. This whole scene had taken me by surprise. I wasn't so much upset by the interruption as I was startled by her appearance and her forwardness. "You can call me Torby."

The bus had begun to lumber away from this stop by now. We were slowly picking up momentum on our westward haul across the plains. Our bus was still almost empty. My new travelling companion had just gotten on at what I thought was to be our last stop for several hours to come. I was looking forward to a couple of hours of time for reading.

"Torby," she repeated and immediately set about rummaging through the bag between her knees for something. With her head now down in the bag she called out, "Is that Mr. Torby or just Torby?"

"Torby," I replied.

Just as suddenly, she straightened and brought her hand up bearing a bright yellow banana.

"Time to practice," she announced, looking in my direction, "My boyfriend Tommy keeps telling me I need to improve my 'technique,' whatever that means."

I watched as she slowly, carefully peeled the fruit. It was a particularly long banana, and bore the usual amount of arc in it from end to end. Sydney balanced it gently in the palm of her right hand and then began to explain her meaning, "Tommy says I need to learn how to slip the whole thing in my mouth and down into my throat without choking and without leaving any teeth marks on it. And I need to do all that while I make it look easy."

She rolled the pale, creamy colored fruit in her hand a moment longer and added, "Tell me what you think."

A split-second later she settled a bit lower into her seat, tipped her head backward slightly and put the banana to her lips before pausing, "Timing my breathing is important."

After taking a measured breath, she slipped half the fruit into her mouth and paused a long moment before slowly withdrawing it. I glanced nervously to the front and then the back of the bus and discovered the two or three other passengers sharing our ride were either settling in for sleep or twiddling their time and attention away on their cell phones.

Sydney wasn't doing any of that. She was focused now on the task before her and plunged the banana back into her mouth once more, this time inserting it a tiny bit deeper.

She extracted its length completely from her mouth, paused, examined the full length of it carefully, and commented, to no one in particular, "Managing my gag reflex and not scraping my teeth over it were the hardest part in the beginning, but I've got that down now."

The banana entered her open mouth once more, traveling even deeper this time before she slowly withdrew it. It was coated with a copious amount of saliva by now, dripping bits of her spit back onto her lips. The young lady groaned this time and then eased the phallic piece of fruit back down into her waiting throat. She showed every sign of embedding her now soggy fruit down to the dainty little fingertips of her hand with only one or two more dedicated thrusts.

I looked on in total fascination. I didn't know if Tommy would applaud Sydney's technique or not, but I personally would have appreciated hearing the raucous sound of her gagging on something -- anything shaped like the banana now lodged in her throat. Imagining my own cock in place of that lucky banana, I wouldn't have complained at al if she had chafed my cock a bit roughly with her teeth either.

I took a deep breath and simply let my jaw hang slack as I gazed wistfully at the spectacle of her mouth and throat working to down the full length of her 'practice tool.' I had been celibate now for two whole years. I was travelling west for a job interview. My divorce had been finalized at last after much too long a struggle with a difficult ex-wife and I wanted a change of scenery. Teaching English in a junior college more than fifteen hundred miles away from my ex-wife was just what I needed, I decided. However, watching Sydney master the ins and outs of her technique reminded me of yet another very important something I had been missing for the past two years.

I let out a little whimper when Sydney's fingers also disappeared inside those lovely lips of hers. She seesawed her hand in and out, playing with it in her throat, even twisting it a little. I swear I could see her throat swelling and contracting with each dip and twist of the fruit.

Her practice apparently over, she gingerly withdrew the long, curving fruit, examined its full length carefully and muttered, "Darn! I scraped it a little right there at the base!"

She then turned it in my direction and held it up for me to see. It positively glistened with her saliva. She pointed to just the slightest of scrapes where her lower teeth had left their mark. "I'm getting better -- but like Tommy says, I shouldn't leave marks like that."

"Don't be so fast to criticize yourself," I told her when I was finally able to close my mouth and breathe again, "A banana is much softer than... than... well most things. You -- and Tommy need to take that into account. After all, it's not as if you don't want to leave any mark at all!"

Sydney looked at the banana and then at me and said, "I hadn't thought about it like that. Tommy certainly likes the feelings I give him when I practice with him."

Her eyes returned to the banana, and she asked, "You don't mind, do you?" Sydney plunged one quarter of her slickened banana into her mouth and bit into it.

When she was finished, Sydney turned toward me, frowned and asked, "Do you really think I have good technique? I mean, we only just met but you saw me practice. Was I really any good?"

I wanted to scream, "Oh, good God but your technique is perfect! You almost made me cum in my pants, your technique is so perfect!" Instead, I forced myself to remain calm and, say with a shrug, "I didn't see anything that needed improving. Your technique was close to perfect. Tommy is a very, very lucky boyfriend."

"Oh, why thank you Mr. Torby," she said with a cute little grin, "Tommy would appreciate your support. He always tells me I should trust a gentleman's opinion and you are certainly a gentleman." She gave my arm a squeeze and touched her head to my shoulder. I could smell the banana on her breath and felt something stir in my pants. I decided I would never regard bananas in quite the same way again.

We rode on in silence for almost an hour. I did my best to read that novel I had wanted to read so badly and Sydney spent her time gazing from side to side out the windows at corn fields and tiny no-name towns as we sped by. As darkness descended on us my new travelling companion suddenly announced it was time for bed. She reached behind her and pulled her second shopping bag around into her lap. She extracted a lovely green and yellow plaid blanket from it, placed the bag back on the floor behind her and then spread the blanket out across us both.

"There is plenty of blanket if you want to share," she offered.

"Why thank you, Sydney. That's very thoughtful of you," I told her, pleased at her generosity.

Sydney wasn't done yet. With the blanket pulled up tightly about her neck she twisted in her seat until her back was to me. She turned to look back over her shoulder and asked, "Would you mind unzipping me?"

"Unzip you?" I asked, shocked by her request.

"Yes, please. You don't expect me to sleep in my dress, do you? Tommy always tells me that it is much more comfortable and natural to sleep in the nude, Mr. Torby. And he's right. I can't sleep any other way except in the nude now. Tommy has made me a believer. You should try it too, Mr. Torby," she explained.

Who was I to argue with that kind of logic? I began by lowering the zipper of her dress. Then, in a halfhearted attempt to appease my companion I unbuttoned and removed my shirt.

"I think that's about as far as I'm prepared to go," I told her as she wriggled and squirmed her way out of her little dress.

Apparently, Sydney had a set of practices to prepare herself for bedtime. She reached behind her into the bag on the floor once again and produced, of all things, a staggeringly large, black dildo. It was surprisingly detailed and lifelike. Even in the fading evening light I could make out thick, lifelike veins crossing its surface and the almost menacing appearance of its head as she held it up in front of her.

"Tommy picked this out for me. If he's not with me when I go to bed, he wants me to use this," she said, waving the clublike thing in her hand for emphasis, "He says I'm too darned tight and I need to be stretched. He calls it my stretching exercise."

I tried to conceal my shock at the size of the weapon in her hand and replied, "That should do more than enough stretching for a young lady of your stature."

"When I'm finished stretching, I'm always so relaxed I fall asleep in no time," she asserted, "Never fails."

I watched as her hand -- and the cudgel she was wielding disappear beneath the blanket. I wondered if this dildo actually relaxed her or if it simply exhausted her with the amount of effort required to accommodate so much artificial timber.

"Might need to put my leg across yours to make room, if you don't mind," Sydney almost groaned.

Her leg rose up and came to rest atop my thigh. It rested warmly against me for a moment, then stiffened slightly. Apparently, her stretching exercise involved some degree of exertion. Nevertheless, the heat of her thigh was intoxicating.

"Would it help to use some lubricant?" I suggested.

"M-m-ph... No... Stretching never fails to make me... damp!" she assured me with labored breath.

At that very instant there was a sudden lurch beneath the blanket and Sydney's body seemed to contort, then grow limp and she gasped out softly as if something had just given way inside her.

"Are you alright?" I asked, concerned about the damage a dildo that size might do to such a petite young lady.

Sydney paused, her stretching tool lodged somewhere deep inside her beneath the blanket and said, "I need to relax. I'm too tense right now for my stretching exercises. Traveling makes me nervous sometimes." Her breathing was ragged now.

"Perhaps I can help you to relax," I suggested.

"How?" she grunted out softly.

"Well, first you need to take your... um... stretching tool out and let me see what I can do to help you," I suggested.

The blanket slipped from her shoulders and a moment later the dildo was standing at attention in her hand atop the blanket. The long, ominous shaft of it rose up between her pert young breasts, drawing attention to the peaks formed by her hard nipples under the blanket. I must admit I was a bit intimidated by its size and the ominous way she held it. It made me think of a blackjack I'd seen used in a movie once and it scared me. This thing was bigger. I inched my hand beneath the blanket to her bare thigh where it rested across my leg and then paused. My touch didn't seem to alarm her.

"I'll be as gentle as I can," I assured her.

My hand trailed softly up her thigh. Still Sydney showed no signs of alarm. I placed my index and middle fingers on her young pussy and quickly discovered two things. First, Sydney had a great deal of fur covering her little twat and second, she was almost sloppy, lip-smackingly wet.

"My, but you are certainly... ready!" I observed.

"Mm-hm," she whimpered back, biting her lip. "But being wet doesn't seem to be helping."

I traced my index and middle fingers up and down the folds of her slick nether lips very slowly a couple of times, paused and asked, "Tommy won't object, will he? - I mean -- Tommy wouldn't think I'm doing anything improper, would he?"

"No -- No, he wouldn't mind. I see what you have in mind. Tommy doesn't do this very often -- tells me I don't need it because I'm always so wet. But this time I think it just might help a little," she told me in the sweetest little-girl voice. My gentle touch was already beginning to distract her.

"Let's hope so," I answered. My fingers resumed their slow, gentle strokes. Gradually I shifted my focus upward to her clit. I spread her lips and began to draw circles around her little joy buzzer. It quickly grew to what seemed the size of a walnut and I marveled that any female as petite and delicate as Sydney could have such a remarkably responsive and large clit.

Her eyes closed, her chin dipped forward until her lips almost touched the tip of that dark and menacing stretching tool Tommy had given her. She let out a muffled, "Oo-o-oh."

"Is that better, Sydney?" I asked.

"Oo-o-oh," she purred again. I wasn't sure if she was going to fall asleep or explode like a boiler. Something was definitely happening, though.

"I'm not hurting you am I"

"Want to scream!" she blurted out, "Feels s-o-o-o good! Need to scream!"

The prospect of hearing Sydney scream out long and loud while I applied this delicious brand of torment to her clit thrilled the shit out of me. It scared hell out of me too. One long, loud scream from her would bring the bus to a sudden stop on the side of the road. One long, loud scream and our fellow passengers would crowd around us. My newfound travel partner and her quite nude condition would be discovered. It also meant my hand would, of necessity, have to be withdrawn from her soupy, sloppy little hole.

Just as I was about to withdraw my fingers, Sydney did something I never could have expected and it saved us both. She stiffened abruptly in her seat, took in a sharp breath of air and jammed the fat, lifelike head of that substitute for Tommy into her mouth to silence her scream.

Mostly, it worked. Sydney began with a shrill whining sound that quickly rose in pitch. Fortunately, the dildo in her mouth muffled most of it. When I glanced up nervously to see if anyone had taken notice, I only saw the driver glance up briefly to me in the rear-view mirror before turning his attention back to the road ahead.

To thank Sydney for her resourcefulness, I slipped my middle finger inside her little opening up to the middle knuckle and seesawed it in and out slowly, methodically. She clearly appreciated the intrusion because she began to roll her hips softly, sensually beneath my touch and jabber softly into the dildo at her lips. Her words were unintelligible but I could tell she was quickly rising again to her boiling point. This time though, instead of screaming she bit down into the hard black rubber head of her ominous big friend, leaving teeth-marks. I winced, imagining the pain and damage Sydney might inflict by bearing down on a man's cock like that.

Sydney writhed and shuddered beneath my taunting fingers like some small, helpless animal for a long minute more before her orgasms finally began to subside. In spite of the forbidding dildo pressed to her lips, watching the play of joy flow in little waves across her face as she came and then came some more was a gratifying sight. The pleasure, for her, was simply and purely all-consuming and sweet. She came with glee and child-like delight.

"Oh my!" she said at last, after she was able to unclench her jaws from the black beast at her lips. She let it slip away into her lap, smiled meekly and added with a blissful smile, "That was relaxing... sort of."

"Perhaps now you can do your stretching exercises," I suggested.

"Oh... Oh," she began distractedly, "I don't think I need to practice my stretching anymore tonight. I think I'll just go to sleep now. Thank you Mr. Torby. Relaxing is so much better than stretching before I go to sleep!"

Sydney absentmindedly slipped the dildo back into her shopping bag, adjusted her blanket and fell fast asleep in two minutes. I stared out the bus window at the growing darkness as we rolled along the interstate and smiled, knowing for the first time in a long time that I could still please someone else. I finally drifted off to sleep with my hand softly stroking Sydney's thigh. The feel of her soft, warm skin comforted me and let me know there were still many decent and worthwhile qualities left in the world.

"Mr. Torby... Mr. Torby," I heard Sydney calling to me softly. I was slowly coming out of a lovely deep sleep.

It was still dark but somehow, I had a sense that it was almost time for the sun to rise behind us. Sydney's leg was no longer resting on mine. In fact, as I stirred and drew my hand out of my own lap, I discovered my fellow passenger had put her dress back on and the blanket was now spread across me. I hazily decided that was awfully considerate of her. I also quickly decided she was even more considerate than I could have imagined when I felt her tiny hand stroking my exposed morning wood. Apparently she had extracted it from my pants while I was sleeping. I had a moment of panic when I realized that both my bladder and my balls were full to bursting. I opened my eyes and stared straight ahead at the dim outline of the bus driver's back in the dark bus and decided, out of consideration for my travelling companion, a quick trip to the bathroom at the back of the bus had to be my immediate priority.

"Sydney, Sydney!" I squawked, pushing her hand away from my throbbing member, "Gotta go to the bathroom!"

"Oh!" she chirped happily in her little--girl voice, "Ok!"

I zipped up hastily, pushed the blanket off my lap and stumbled out into the aisle. I was emptying my bladder and groaning out in relief seconds later in the spartan little john at the back of the bus. It took so long and felt so good to empty my bladder in one long, outpouring river that I almost forgot the second, and lovelier reason for my morning wood. Emptying my bladder only solved half my problem. The stiffness in my timber had begun to ebb. As I recalled Sydney's tiny hand softly stroking it, that aching stiffness returned with a vengeance. I was still struggling to pack it back into my pants as I left the bathroom.