Gay Chub Big Moobs Ep. 01

*** This is a series of real gay experiences I've had with men and my big moobs (man boobs). All people in the stories are over 18. ***

I'm gay, fat, and have large feminine-looking man boobs (moobs). They're a little embarrassing for me at social occasions, but they're my favorite part of my body. I'm going to tell you two stories in this volume, both of them are experiences I had on a public bus, the second one is sexier than the first one (I gotta build up that sexual tension for you!).

My job required me to work late, I didn't get off until 1:30 A.M. in the morning, and then I'd have to take the public bus on a 90-minute journey home. Yes...90 minutes. Gave me plenty of time for little "social experiments".

These were large articulated buses, which were basically two buses combined at the center with an accordion. And back then, the only cameras the bus had were pointed directly at the exit doors, nowhere else.

That late at night, women sat near the driver, but I preferred to sit in the back, a distance of more than 60 feet (18.5m), and it was kind of a private area. Private enough that sometimes you'd see a guy use the back of the bus to roll his joints.

I'd sit back there, wearing my tight-fitting work uniform, and I would watch and see if any of the men sitting near me would notice my big tits bouncing on the bumpy road.

I remember, there was a guy in his mid-twenties, he looked like he worked at a Mexican fast-food restaurant. He sat on the bench that faced toward the aisle, and my seat was up against the back wall, facing forward toward his seat. As he sat there looking down at his shoes, we hit a rough spot in the road, and my breasts bounced quickly and noticeably. Alarmed by the vehicle's jolting motion, the man looked around instinctively. He and I were the only two people in the back.

As he turned his head, he saw my tits, and I had a clever way of facing my head toward the window, but keeping my eyes on a swivel to see what the men around me were doing. And this guy was staring at my tits as they bounced. It wasn't a judgemental look, he was genuinely transfixed.

Minutes went by, he was occasionally looking around, but his eyes always landed on my chest. My arousal made my nipples begin to harden a little. He noticed that too. I even remember the way he bit his lower lip as he watched my chest heave with the motion of the bus. I let him stare at me for a while, he thought I couldn't see him. Then I decided to make it known. I reached my left arm up and began to rub my nipple in a way that looked like I was just casually satisfying an itch by using the pads of my fingertips. He watched the whole time.

Most people would say "He must be gay then." But I'm not so quick to label him. Sexuality is fluid, just because this young man was staring hungrily at the chest of a fat gay man, does not in turn make that man gay...he was probably just very curious, and curiosity takes men from there.

In any case, I didn't turn to look at him. I kept rubbing my nipple for him, letting it get hard, and gradually the rubbing became more sensual. I purposefully wore a smirk on my lips so that when he finally realized he had been caught, he would also know that I was okay with it. When from the corner of my eye I saw him grin ear to ear, I knew it was time to look at him.

He was cute, not a male supermodel, or anything, he was a skinny, lanky young man, with bushy eyebrows, and slightly big teeth, but he had a cute smile. And his skin looked so soft and flawless.

"Se ve bien," he chuckled in Spanish. I don't speak Spanish fluently, but I knew it meant he liked what he saw. But he laughed quietly, and in a way that made it seem like I was just a friend teasing him for looking.

I started grabbing both of my tits to show him how big they were underneath that shirt. He grinned, nodding his head, again thinking I might be joking with him, but he was still playing along, and his eye contact rarely broke from my chest.

With his big teeth still shining at me, he looked around to make sure we were still alone. Then he moved over one seat, sitting just inches in front of me.

I grabbed my tits in a gesture that showed him he could touch if he wanted to.

He laughed again and reached over and gave my left breast a jiggle before letting go and watching them both bounce with the motion of the bus. He continued to smile. I couldn't tell if he honestly thought I was just a heterosexual man trying to make him laugh, or if he was protecting his heterosexuality with a laugh. I mean...as long as he pretended this was just for giggles, then it's not sexual or gay, right?

He reached over again and lifted my right breast, letting it drop down and jiggle.

I maintained a conservative smile, that said "I'm enjoying this sexually". Then I lifted my shirt to reveal my tits to him.

He giggled quietly, trying not to make a sound that would attract attention from the driver or the passengers at the front of the bus. They couldn't see us anyway, the gradual turns on the boulevard broke the line of sight when the bus bent at the accordion. I didn't worry about pedestrians or motorists seeing us through the windows, it was 2 A.M. in the morning, and we were driving through miles of industrial areas that were all closed for the night. It was highly unlikely there would be pedestrians about. And there were usually no cars on the road. This also meant no roving police. And because there were nearly 8 miles of industrial road, the bus didn't have to stop to drop off or pick up people until we reached suburbs or downtowns.

The man was leaning in closer at my naked breasts, watching them bounce and jiggle. He still giggled like he thought he was participating in a friendly prank between the two of us. And he reached over again, this time groping my left boob with his left hand. He squeezed hard, probably thinking he was calling my "gay bluff" and that I might swat his hand away. But I let him squeeze and squeeze until my breast was coming out between his fingers like dough or putty. When he realized I wasn't going to stop him. He let go and instead began to rub my nipple with his thumb.

It was such an electric feeling, my nipples are so sensitive I can feel every ripple of the fingerprint on his thumb. He was being more gentle now, using his fingers and his palm to play with my nipple. Then he moved his hand to my right breast and repeated his playful exercise. His giggling and grin slowly faded as he became more relaxed.

Why would a man rub my tits on a public bus? A few reasons: I'm an anonymous stranger, we had near complete privacy, it was 2 A.M. in the morning, and he was exhausted from a long day at work, probably deprived of intimacy with another person...and I was the one inviting him to do it. If you were in this situation, would you have reached over and touched them?

Guys sometimes pinch their friend's belly to joke about them being fat. I've seen a group of rowdy guys go as far as one of them planting a kiss on the other friend to tease and annoy him. But this guy soon realized I wasn't doing this for laughs, I was enjoying it, and his smile slowly faded. So did his interest. He grinned one last time as he gave me a nod and then moved back over to his original seat, and sat back. He eventually exited the bus at his stop, and my stop came a mile later.

Maybe it wasn't sexual for him, maybe it was one of those things you try, just to know that you tried it. Or maybe he was just curious: "Does this guy's moobs feel like breasts?" Or: "Would he slap my hands away if I played with his nipple? That might be funny!" In any case, I'm not complaining, I got what I wanted out of it.

The second, more sexy story is as follows:

Like all my bus experiences, it happened late at night, after work. I got on the bus just before 2 A.M. and sat at the very back right-hand corner by the window, as usual. A few stops later, a man gets on, he sits on the aisle-facing bench on the left side of the bus. He was a white guy, blonde hair, maybe in his late 30s or early 40s, not traditionally handsome, but not bad to look at either. He was reading from a folded newspaper. He barely noticed me.

Two more stops and another man got on the bus, this guy was definitely in his early to mid-40s, he might have been Pakistani if only by blood, but as you'll later read, he spoke English fluently. He sat in the same seat the younger man did in the first story, just in front of me, facing the aisle, and within arm's reach.

The bus began its long and slow drive down the empty boulevard of quiet industries, and again, the bumpy road made my tits bounce and jiggle very noticeably. Again, my face was pointed directly at the window, but I used my peripheral vision to observe the Pakistani man, and I used the reflection on the glass to see the white man across from him.

The Pakistani man had been leaning against the seats in such a way that he could put up his legs on the empty seat next to him, so now he was directly facing me. He was checking his phone for something but as soon as he put it down and looked up, right ahead of him were my bouncing breasts. He thought I didn't notice him staring, so he just kept on staring.

After several minutes the white man put down his newspaper and checked his watch, then looked around and saw my tits. And he must have seen the other man who was staring.

The Pakistani man realized he had been caught staring by the white man, so, he played it off smoothly. Silently so as not to get my attention, he looked at the white guy and kind of discreetly motioned with his finger at my tits, and made an awkward face, as if he was silently saying "Geez look at that fat guy!"

Both men shared a silent laugh. And whether or not they were both genuinely judging me and making fun of me, I didn't care. It turned me on that they even noticed.

Finally, I do my usual routine where I start rubbing my nipple like I'm scratching an itch, but using the pads of my fingertips. Doing this gives me plausible deniability that I'm either genuinely scratching an itch, or I'm doing it to pleasure my nipple. Either way, the men noticed. They were focused on me. My "itching" turned to sensual rubbing. I held my "I'm turned on" smirk, again, to let them know that even though I'm not directly looking at them, I know they're looking at me and I like it.

The Pakistani man must have seen my smile because he finally spoke to me, "Rough road huh? The city needs to fix all these potholes before they get too big."

I turned to look at them both while I was still slowly rubbing my nipple and squeezing my breast. The white guy, was still holding his newspaper as if at any moment he might avert his eyes and pretend he was reading the whole time.

The Pakistani man was slightly chubby and clean-shaven, the skin on his cheeks was a bit pitted from his graduating age. He wasn't attractive, but not ugly, just very average...he could be any ordinary pedestrian on the street. But my arousal wasn't based on his appearance, it was the very notion that this anonymous man liked what he saw when he looked at my breasts.

I replied, "Yeah, it's rough."

I began rubbing and tugging at both my nipples, both men watched, realizing that I was certainly doing it for their attention.

The Pakistani man indicated my behavior with a single nod of his head, saying, "The bouncing can cause irritation. The same thing happens to marathon runners."

I wasn't sure but it seemed that he was giving me a credible "escape", as if I might want to just pretend I wasn't doing anything sexual. But I was doing it on purpose, I wanted him to watch.

"Yeah, I feel it every time I ride the bus," I said, building from his rationale, "but I'm okay, it doesn't bother me."

I was still slowly rubbing my nipples but now I began to grab handfuls of my tits.

The white man looked unphased, he just watched from his distance, his paper still poised in front of him as if he was reading it, but his eyes were firmly on me. Maybe he was petrified? Maybe he was secretly praying I'd stop...or keep going.

The Pakistani guy sat quietly for another minute, occasionally glancing out the window, but still watching me squeeze my fat tits. I knew he wanted me to remove my shirt so he could get a better look. But he was too afraid to say anything, especially next to the other stranger.

I decided to give him an excuse he could use. I started to roll up my shirt very slowly, exposing my huge doughy belly, and about to reveal my breasts to him. I asked, "Would you be able to tell me if there's irritation from the bouncing? I don't really know what to look for."

He simply nodded, eyes locked on my shirt, hyper-focused. He didn't want to say "yes" but he definitely wasn't about to say "no put your shirt down". He just wanted a peek, and if he didn't like what he saw, he could pretend to conclude the "examination".

I wanted to give the men a bit of a treat. As I pulled the shirt up, I did so in a way that pulled my breasts up with it, and when I was ready, I let my tits drop down together, landing in a massive jiggly bounce.

The white guy's eyes perked open wider for a moment, in surprise.

But the Pakistani man played the ruse of the concerned citizen, just trying to lend an opinion to help me out with my bouncing breast blight. He leaned in a little, observing my fat nipples. They were soft and puffy at the moment, their color was pink at the moment, but if they harden, they turn cinnamon brown, my nipples really do have that unique color tone to them.

"Oh...yes there's a little irritation to the skin," he began.

Bullshit, I thought.

Indeed he used this excuse to cup my breast, I nodded back, giving him my consent. He continued with his observation, "its nothing to be concerned about though." His fingers supported the underside of my boob, and he used his thumb to gently brush my large areola.

I measured my areolas once. When they are soft and puffy, they are 2 inches (5cm) across, and when they are fully hard they are 1.5 inches (3.8cm) across. That might seem huge for a man, but the large size of my round and perky moobs makes them look perfectly proportional. I've been complimented by many men before who said that my nipples were "perfect" and that my breasts were the best they've seen, which baffled them because I am a man.

Brushing my areola with his coarse thumb, he then rubbed the teat of my nipple, which the teat itself is 1/4 of an inch (0.6cm) in diameter (roughly the size of a number button on a TV remote). And I moaned, because the surface of the teat is the most sensitive of sensitive areas.

"Does that hurt?" he asked, still pretending to help me.

"No, it feels so good," I responded. I leaned my head back, I figured that if I wasnt' looking directly at him, he might feel more at ease to keep touching me. And it worked. I could see in my peripheral vision, the reflection of both men in the dark windows of the bus. The Pakistani man laughed quietly, pointing to my tits and probably telling the white guy something along the lines of, "can you believe this guy?"

The white guy responded with an amused grin and a single nod, still clutching his newspaper and failing to be discrete.

I asked him, "Does the other one have any signs of irritation?"

I felt him holding the other breast now, both of my massive mammaries in his hands, and he was using the pads of his palms to rub my big puffy nipple, "How does that feel?" he asked.

"It feels better, can you keep doing it? I think it's helping."

Without a response, he was now fully rubbing my nipples. I could feel my little chubby cock growing harder in my pants. My slacks were part of my uniform from work and were very tight. The Pakistani man must have noticed a small hard bulge from the head of my cock. Because he said, "Wow it must really feel good for you."

I just moaned a little whimper in response.

The white man continued to stare. He hadn't made any move to sit closer, he hadn't made any requests, or even shown disapproval. He just sat there and let the events unfold, almost in disbelief that he got on the bus tonight and ended up witnessing all of this...but if you've ever taken a late-night bus through a sprawling metropolitan area in the United States, you'll know that my behavior on the bus was not all that shocking. Men on the bus at night are exhausted from a day's work and their inhibitions are relaxed. Why not? It wasn't likely they would ever see me again, especially since they hadn't seen me there before.

The brown-skinned man was now fully lifting and handling my breasts. He shook his head, astonished that my moobs were much bigger than what he could fit in one hand. "I know this might be a strange suggestion, but you could buy a simple sports bra and that can help you prevent the irritation from bouncing. My wife has one."

The white man slowly reached for the pull cord, yanking it, indicating his stop was nearby. As the bus slowed toward the stop, the Pakistani man released me and pulled my shirt down enough to cover my tits and stomach. The white man stood up and smiled and nodded at me before he stepped off the bus. Soon the vehicle was in motion again, we were passing through suburban areas now, my stop was only a few miles away.

I lifted my head to look at the man, he was feeling a little awkward. I could tell he wasn't done examining me, but he didn't know if he should continue or how he would suggest it.

I continued the conversation where we left off, "Do you think my chest is big enough to properly fit a sports bra?"

He seemed pleased to return to his role, playing the citizen professional, "Oh yes, your chest is bigger than my wife's." He lifted my shirt to examine my boobs again, adding, "And you're more sensitive than my wife is, so, it could really help you."

I nodded, enjoying the little breast massage he was giving me. He was just trying to be a good samaritan and relieve this simple "skin irritation" which we both knew wasn't real.

"Yeah," I continued, "my nipples are really sensitive, but I like it, it feels good."

He nodded awkwardly, "Well at least you enjoy it."

"Yeah, I think they're starting to feel better now. Your wife is really lucky to have you for this kind of thing."

He laughed again, this time nervously. "Well, I gotta say I've never seen a set like this on a man, they're very nice looking." He tried to get back into character, perhaps it made him feel like he was still holding the heterosexual card. "If you're okay with it, I can try something on you. It'll relieve the irritation, for a little while."

"Well if you think it would help, you could try."

The Pakistani man was fully amused by my complete openness, he smiled nervously again, and said, "Let's see." He grabbed my breasts in his iron grip and leaned in, his tongue first, running it around my areolas before finally giving in and putting the whole nipple in his mouth.

What I like about mature men, like the married Pakistani guy, is that he's had time to improve his game, he's learned from his wife not to rush anything...and because he likes breasts, he knows how to pleasure them. How to pleasure mine.

I suppressed my moans only a little, I was still breathing hard and whimpering from the excitement. His rough tongue lapped at my stiffening nipples like they were made of hard candy. As my nipples hardened, they turned their cinnamon-brown color, and the teat was fully formed like a round rubber button. And as my nipples and areolas toughened up into hard bumpy masses, he sucked harder, as if he expected milk to come out. The sucking was strong and borderline uncomfortable but his enthusiasm for it was making me want it even more.

I was trying desperately not to make too much noise, but the sensation of his mouth and tongue was more than I could bear. I gripped the backrest of his seat for stability as I leaned into him.