tagCelebrities & Fan FictionFuck The Greyhound Bus

Fuck The Greyhound Bus


"I know how much you hate the bus," Anne sighed. She nestled under the warm covers of her queen-sized bed, allowing the soft hum of the air-conditioning unit to lull her to into a peaceful state.

Connected to her calm friend- two hundred miles away via a fiber optic network- an anxious Ellie groaned and climbed onto the familiar bus, small backpack in tow. "It's not that I don't love you, Anne," she groaned as she searched the rows for an available window seat. "I do. But do you even understand how fucking abominable this drive is? Not to mention, I can't ever sleep. When I do manage to fall asleep, I get awoken every hour by some rickety old bus driver screaming, 'GET YOUR MUFFINS! GO GET YOUR MUFFINS, WE HAVE TEN MINUTES'." Ellie yelled the words to emphasize her frustration, gaining stares from nearly everyone on the small coach bus. "I hate the fucking Greyhound bus."

Anne smirked into her cell phone. "I know you do."

"That's the only fucking thing Tony Lovato ever got right, you know," Ellie hissed as she found an empty row of seats and threw herself against the window. She quickly placed her backpack into the seat beside her, praying that no stranger would attempt to fill the third seat. She hated strangers, and even more, hated being pinned into such a tight space for the eleven hour drive from her hometown to Anne's ridiculously far, Eastern Long Island abode. Why did Anne have to live in fucking Guam, anyway?

Anne giggled at this. "Ellie, are you saying that you agree with Anthony Lovato?"

Ellie nodded into her cell phone, pulling her legs up against the chair in front of her and trying to breathe a sigh of relief. She was in for a long trip. "Yeah," she offered slowly. "I think I do. Isn't that deranged?"

Anne nodded into her phone again. "So what CDs did you bring for the trip? I'm falling asleep here already, so I hope you have some Adam Lazarra to sing you to sleep. Or maybe some Andrew....Uh, Andrew, uh...."

"McMahon?" Ellie questioned her friend, great amusement evident in her voice. She has always known far more about the band Something Corporate than Anne had; and yet, Anne had enjoyed the band for a greater span of years. Strange how they worked like that: complimentary to one another's likes and dislikes. Where Ellie enjoyed more hardcore tastes- like Sick of It All and Bleeding Through- Anne had always cherished '80s hairbands and bubblegum rock. That was okay though: they amused one another with their often off kilter musical tastes.

"Anne?" Ellie questioned, snapping her friend back to reality. "Are you falling asleep? Fuckin wake up, bitch. I'm doing this for you and I don't have a Walkman. So you better stay awake with my ass."

Anne's eyelids fluttered and she strained to open her eyes against the harsh overhead lighting of her bedroom. "Why didn't you bring a Walkman, dumbass? You know it's an ass long drive and you know I have to be coherent enough to come pick your skanky butt up in the morning."

Ellie gasped. "SKANKY?"

The two girls giggled.

"You heard me," Anne grinned, feeling herself catch a burst of sudden energy. "Skanky ho!"

"SLUT!" Ellie giggled.

"Trashy whore!" Anne chided and tried to sit up in bed, readjusting the small Nokia against her shoulder.

"Excuse me," Ellie smirked. "Who's the one that's been talking about sucking dick for the past three weeks?"

"Elle?" Anne laughed softly. "That's you! You can't stop talking about the B word."

"Mmm," Ellie cooed. "B word."

"Yeah, so," Anne chuckled softly. "What plans do you have for Thursday? I mean, how are you and Gnome Boy going to amuse yourselves while I'm off getting impregnated with sextuplets?"

Ellie sluck down in her seat and made a disgusted noise. "Gross, Anne! I don't even want to think about Fat Boy naked. Please. Much less, impregnating my best friend. Who happens to be beautiful. Far too beautiful for Fat Boy."

Anne felt her cheeks warm. "I wish, Elle. I wish."

"Don't even get me started," Ellie argued playfully. "You are just...."

Anne held her breath and waited. "Yeah?"

"Too good for him," Ellie finished with a frustrated sigh. "In fact, we're both too good for them. So why does it feel like we're not good enough? That I'm not good enough?"

Anne took a deep beath before attempting to answer her best friend. They had this conversation often, too often, in fact. Ellie had a perpetual gut feeling that the man she'd adored for the past, oh say, seven years, did not return her affections. She wanted nothing more in life than for him to adore her as she adored him; and yet, everyday of the week she questioned if it was even worth it. The invested time, the invested emotions. The hours it would take for her to find him, place their bodies together, and see that look in his eyes....for ten seconds. Anne wanted more for Ellie, wanted her to either have him- and have him completely- or to move on. Yet, she didn't want Ellie's heart to be broken.

So she listened on. "I mean, he wants a little blonde Barbie doll wife who'll pump out 22.5 kids and they'll have a-"

Anne interrupted with hysterical giggles. "22.5 kids? Holy fucking stretched out pussy!"

Ellie paused to consider what she'd said, then shrugged. "I meant, 2.5, okay? You know what I meant!"

"Carry on," Anne grinned as she calmed herself.

"I was saying," Ellie emphasized with her characteristic, frustrated huff. "That he wants a skinny, blonde Barbie, who loves dogs, wants a zillion kids, will do his laundry and clean his house, and when he's away she'll-"

"There aren't many Barbie dolls that love Cradle of Filth, BT and Sick of It All," Anne interrupted with a grin. "In fact, I think most Barbie girls are deathly afraid of circle pits."

Ellie paused, chewing on her lip. She considered her friend's statement with a flick of her pierced tongue, then sighed. "He doesn't want me, Anne. Bottom line. He'll never want me."

"Did he say that?" Anne challenged her friend. "Did he say, 'Ellie, I'm sorry, you're not my type?' No, he's never said that. In seven years. He's hit on you relentlessly, and you always make fun of him! He says he'll get naked for you, and you shriek and run away disgusted. Elle, that's not such a-"

"When did he offer to get naked for me?" Ellie huffed. "Where was I?"

"The shower incident?" Anne reminded her friend.

"Oh," Ellie sighed. "Yeah. Well. That doesn't count."

"And why the fuck not?" Anne laughed. "Jesus, Ellie. I can't win with you. You have a reason why everything means nothing, and nothing means everything."

Ellie laughed. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Nothing," Anne shrugged with a smirk. "But it sounded good, didn't it?"

The two girls laughed softly into their Nokias.

"So," Ellie began with a yawn. "I think you should tell me a story to make me fall asleep."

"If you fall asleep, do I get to go to sleep?" Anne mocked.

Ellie nodded. "You sure do, bitch."

"Okay," Anne grinned. "Let's see...."

"Make it kinky," Ellie demanded with a lascivious grin.

Anne nodded, smirking. "Once upon a kinky time-"

"That's gay, Anne," Ellie giggled.

"Once upon a kinky time," Anne repeated with a deliciously evil smirk. "There was a girl named Ellie who was a pain in my fucking ass. All she did was bitch about this guy who was actually the Travelocity gnome, in disguise."

"That's not funny," Ellie interrupted with a laugh. "Not even remotely-"

"Shut up," Anne laughed. "I'm just getting started. So there was this Travelocity gnome guy, and he played guitar in a band. All the little girls were nuts about him, but none of them gave a damn about him, as a gnome."

"PERSON!" Ellie shrieked while giggling. "He's a person, stop!"

"Oh-kay," Anne grinned. "Fine. So the little guy, he was never truly loved- just adored by a legion of faceless, nameless, brainless teenagers."

"Watch it!" Ellie challenged, reminding her friend of her eighteen years.

Anne cleared her throat. "I'm well aware of your age, pipsqueak. So as I tried to say FIVE TIMES, he was adored by a bunch of turds that didn't really give a fucking shit about him. In fact, they really didn't take the time to know anything about him; save for his favorite bands, so that they could run out and buy their CDs and merchandise and pretend that they too liked those bands."

"UGH," Ellie groaned.

"Yes, ugh," Anne sighed. "Anyhow, so this little guy, he really didn't have very many friends. In fact, he really didn't know that he could trust people anymore. It was to the point where everyone in the world wanted something from him. He was used up, drained. He felt, in a way, abused. Yet, he kept that saccharine sweet smile plastered onto his face and went about giving the world his best pageant wave."

"What's this got to do with me?" Ellie questioned with a yawn. "I mean, where does the sex come in?"

"I'm making this shit up as I go," Anne shrugged. "So anyhow, this little guy was playing a show in Rhode Island on Thursday, and these two super hot, super cool chicks were going to the show. Their names were Ellie and Anne. Anne was taller than Ellie, but still not what is conventionally considered tall."

"Are you calling me short, bitch?" Ellie challenged, and she and Anne erupted into laughter.

"No, bitch, shut up!" Anne laughed. "Do you want me to finish this story? Ever? Cause you keep-"

"Sorry!" Ellie defended. "I'll be quiet. I'm curling up underneath my jacket and waiting for the hardcore sex action."

"Okay," Anne laughed. "Now shush! Where as I?"

"I was being fucked hard by-" Ellie smiled at the thought.

"SHUSH!" Anne demanded. "So I was saying. Ellie was the shorter of the two, but the prettier. She had amazingly thick, beautiful hair that-"

"Shut up!" Ellie laughed. "Shut up!"

"You shut up!" Anne laughed. "Or I give up."

"Fine!" Ellie spat playfully.

Anne paused for a second. "What time is it? Where are you?"

Ellie sat up in her seat and glanced around the bus. "Umm, I'd say we're near Breezewood and umm, it's....2AM? I think. I don't really know, I didn't wear a watch."

"Only nine hours to go!" Anne smiled.

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me," Ellie groaned and she inched back down into her seat. "So back to my story."

"Fast forward," Anne laughed. "The girls get to the show on Thursday, and are greeted by the band's tour manager. They get their laminates and are escorted side stage. They had hoped to see the guys before their set, but it looks as though that won't be possible. So they amuse themselves with idle chat and gossip, shaking hands with the other VIPs side stage. The band begin to strap their instruments into place, and Ellie catches a glimpse of her man out of the corner of her eye. He's eyeing her. Her heart soars, she feels her pulse race. He places his guitar across his chest, and his tech straps him into place. The band's intro tape begins, and Ellie wants to run out onto stage and-"

"I'm not sure I like this third person shit," Ellie yawned. "How about you just-"

"Shut up?" Anne yawned. "I'm doing my best here. Alright, so, he glances at you. You glance back. He plays the opening chord of the band's set, and that's that. He races out onto stage and the girls in the front rows go nuts. You get mad and hurt, frustrated and angry all at once. You want to go out into that crowd and punch every little girl you see, but I grab your arm and keep you on the stage."

Ellie laughed. "You know me too well."

Anne shrugged. "He steps up to the microphone and you sigh. Your heart is racing, your heartbeat is in your ears. You try to swallow back your anxiety, but it stays like a bass drum through your body. You glance to me for support, and I squeeze your hand. He speaks and they listen. He speaks and you snear. You want to hit him. Not because of anything he's said or done, but because he's...yours. They shouldn't care what he's saying. They shouldn't want to listen to him."

"They have Monkey Boy," Ellie offered with a soft chuckle. "They can have his ugly butt!"

Anne shook her head and sighed. "Why are you always so mean to him? I think you secretly want his-"

"GROSS!" Ellie whispered loudly. "GROSS!"

"ANYHOW," Anne cleared her throat. "He's talking into the microphone and the crowd is enraptured, but you're not hearing a word he's saying. Your mind is racing, your heart is pounding- threatening to jump right out of your chest. You forget where you are, forget that he's performing to thousands. Instead, your thoughts race to the after-show. To the hotel. To his hotelroom."

"Finally!" Ellie yawned. "The good shit!"

"He's holding you against his chest, backing you toward the bed," Anne continued, ignoring Ellie's interruption. "Your lips won't part, and his tongue is begging for entrance into your mouth. You smile and allow him that smallest of space to slink his moist tongue into your mouth. He searches, searches. He finds your tongue ring and tries to drink in the cool warmth of the metal. You feel his lip rings pressing firmly into your lips, pressing your gums to your teeth. It hurts, and yet, it hurts beautifully. You ache for him to press into you harder. You want to feel his hardness again you, and yet, all you can feel are his lips, his tongue.

"He lowers you down to the mattress. You smile, overwhelmed at the pleasure and the excitement coursing through your body. You've wanted this. Wanted it for the past seven years. So very bad, you could taste it on lonely summer nights. Here it is and it's real. He presses his hips against you and you can feel him, so very ready inside of his oversized black slacks. Ready to take you and make you his prize. You want it, but instead, he lowers himself back onto you and your lips meet again. He tastes like sweat and sweetness, Diet Coke and eternity."

"How very poetic," Ellie quipped with a yawn.

Anne ignored her. "You love his taste, want to taste more of him. So you glide your hands between your entangled bodies, searching ever lower for his belt. His belt buckle. You want to get his pants off and thrown as far from his reach as possible. You want to see him, feel him, touch him. Taste is so limited; you want everything else that's coming to you."

"No pun intended," Ellie yawned.

"Would you shut up?" Anne sighed. "You're going to totally ruin the mood."

Ellie yawned again. "I feel like we're having phone sex."

"I could hang up?" Anne yawned. "I'd love to get some-"

"No!" Ellie demanded and pleaded all at once. "Please? More?"

"So," Anne emphasized. "You want everything he has to give you, and you want it fast. Your pulse is racing and you feel yourself overheating. You tug at his pants, trying to signal for him to back away and allow you to remove the fabric from his body. He understands and within minutes, you've tossed his Dickies clear across the small room. You stare at the large bulge in his gray boxer-briefs longingly. You want to taste him, taste more of him. You slide lower on the bed, he understands what you're doing and pauses his movements. He stands away from the bed and you kneel, wrapping your lips around the fabric of his underwear. You pull away, taking great delight in the wet impression you've left on his crotch. He growls as you begin to tug on his shorts.

He growls deep down in his throat as you lick up his length, then back down. This is the best lollipop you've ever tasted, and you cannot stop smiling. You lick and suck and lick and lick some more. He's growling and clutching at your hair, trying not to tug or pull you too roughly. You're loving every second of it, but the desire to have him deep inside of you is becoming overwhelming. Too overwhelming. So you slide your mouth from his length and stand, pushing him roughly onto the mattress. He falls, a ridiculous grin plastered across his beautifully flawless skin."

"His skin is not flawless," Ellie whispered in a throaty tone.

"Someone's horny," Anne taunted. "So he lays there, grinning up at you and you grin down at him. You climb over him, lowering yourself ever so slowly. Then, you feel him. He's right there, so close. This is what you've wanted for so long. You want to feel his entire length inside you. First, it's just the tip. Then an inch. Then you lower yourself further and it's two inches, three inches, four inches. He's so thick. You're stretching and so moist and excited. He's deliciously perfect. You placed your hands onto his tattooed chest and smile at him. A smile that is so wide, you wonder if you look like a moron. The thought sweeps over you quickly and you forget it. Instead, your entire body is focused on the seven inches imbedded so deeply inside you. You're intertwined with him now. Lovers.

"He's so deliciously long and hard, you want to cry out. You do cry out. You hope the people in the nearby rooms can't hear you, and then, at the same time, you hope they can. So you cry out louder and louder. His growls push you further toward the edge. His body is so beautiful beneath you and you can't help but scream his name for the world to hear as you fly over the edge of infinity."

Anne finished her thought and sighed. She heard a soft weezing on the other end of the phone and grinned. "Ellie, did you fall asleep?"

There was no answer.


Still no answer.

So Anne sighed and curled up underneath her blankets, shutting her eyes and feeling the cool metal of her cell phone tightly press against her ear. "We laid there, in the afterglow, and I turned to you and said, 'Paul, can I have a cigarette?' Mmm, Paul."

"GROSS!" Ellie shrieked, causing Anne to jump up into the air.

"I thought you were asleep?" Anne stammered when she finally landed back down onto her bed, startled.

"I was," Ellie yawned. "But just the mention of Paul woke me up screaming."

The two girls erupted into laughter.

"Ah, Ellie," Anne sighed and then yawned. "I miss you."

"I'm almost there," Ellie grinned. "Only four hours left!"

Anne's eyes shot open and she felt her heart race. "That means I have to leave here in-"

"Two hours!" Ellie giggled, clapping her hands. "Ha ha, no sleep for you!"

Anne rolled her eyes. "Ugh."

"Fuck the Greyhound bus," Ellie smirked.

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