Punk Rock Girl

I remember the events of the day clearly. It was a crappy rainy day and the wind was howling from the south. I made it to my meeting in South Seattle 10 minutes early and I made it back to the downtown Seattle bus tunnel at Westlake Center. I stepped off the bus and glanced up at the clock. 1118am. I thought about how ironic it was that today was 11-18-09.

The tunnel had barely any foot traffic. I looked up and saw a bus coming towards me. The 594 to Tacoma. I just came from that direction. I'm going the other way.

The bus pulled up slowly and stopped. Four people next to me got on the bus. The old man with the walker slowly made his way towards the open doors. This may take awhile.

"I hope I don't need a walker when I get old," I thought to myself.

My eyes shifted from the front door and moved left. About 6 rows back I saw her. She was reading a book. I instinctively lowered my head to see over my sunglasses. Just as I reached up to remove them, she glanced out the window and looked directly into my eyes.

I was standing right in front of her window. I felt like a voyeur. I felt like I was intruding on her space. I felt the back of my neck tingle. I felt like a little kid with a schoolgirl crush.

As I peeled my sunglasses off my pupils contracted and focused only on her face. The rest of the world melted away. She used her right hand to tuck her bangs behind her right ear. Each finger was adorned with a single matching silver ring. The faint glow of the tunnel's fluorescent lights gleamed off each of them.

Her eyes were a piercing color of blue. They reminded me of a postcard that I had received once. The picture showed a crystal clear day on a beach with perfectly calm blue waters and not a cloud in the sky. The caption read: Take away your blues and come enjoy ours. The Caymans.

"Good morning", I said. I thought that I had mouthed the words, but in all reality I said it out loud.

I heard something drop. The old man had dropped his umbrella as he stepped onto the bus. I never even flinched. My eyes remained attached to hers.

She reached toward my face as if to touch me gently. Her fingertips softly touched the glass.

"Good morning," she whispered back to me. I hoped she was using her inside voice.

I felt as though I was sending her off to the Army. I felt it was the last time that I would see her.

I remember all the letters that my basic training buddies had received back in 1991. Grown men crying. There is nothing worse in this world than that. Then they would fly off into a rage and tip over their bunks and throw their shit everywhere. I would laugh to myself but I was a heartless fucker back then. That was where I learned to separate myself from situations and place myself outside the box: view yourself from the outside looking in.

It's a strange feeling to be able to watch yourself react to events. Take yourself out of your own eyes and place yourself high above, looking down on the activity below.

The seat next to her was vacant.

The old man couldn't reach his umbrella.

I had nothing to do for the next two days.

She was amazing.

I raised my hand to touch her outstretched fingers.

"Who are you?" she had whispered from behind the glass. I felt like I was in county jail again, hindered ruthlessly by bulletproof glass, with no phone. I didn't know what to say.

Did we have some sort of connection? What was it that drew us together? Why were we both reaching for each other in the faint yellow glow of the artificial light? Where was she going? What was happening?

The umbrella was still lying on the step of the bus. I was still frozen in time. She was trying to tell me something. She had whispered, "Who are you?" and I was still trying to answer.

Something snapped.

My feet started walking towards the front of the bus but my eyes never left hers.

Even when I picked up the old man's umbrella I could feel her eyes. I was outside the box. I could see myself from above as I disappeared onto the bus.

The old man took a seat near the front right behind the driver. I swiped my card and stood behind him with only one thing on my mind: the answer to her question.

Our eyes were locked, but there was something deeper.

Did I know this girl from somewhere else?

Did we ever meet?

Did she know something that I didn't?

I politely stood by her adjacent seat and glanced down with my eyes, "May I?"

"Sure," she said.

My heart, mind and soul melted as I heard her voice. I put my backpack in the aisle and sat down. Her voice was familiar, as if I had talked to her only hours ago.

Any awkward feelings that I should have felt were left on the platform outside. I offered my right hand to gesture for a handshake.

"Hi, my name is Sean," the words fell out of my mouth. "Have we met before?"

"I don't think so," she replied and reached for my hand to reciprocate my gesture.

"Well," I touched her hand as it melted in mine. "Then I'm glad that we finally have." I held her hand lightly in mine. I leaned forward and kissed her middle finger gently.

"What's your name?" I said.

"My name is Jaclyn," she half whispered in my ear. "But my friends call me Jaci." she smiled.

"Well," I said calmly. "My name is Sean."

"You already said that, Sean," she replied. She had herself a little chuckle at my expense. Her chuckle turned into a grin and slowly a small smile that made me glad that I wasn't wearing sunglasses. I'm sure that her smile reflected back to her through my 'puppy dog' eyes.

I felt my face start to blush. I felt my heart start to beat faster. I felt everything and nothing all at the same time.

"Nice to meet you Jaci," I replied.

"Nice to finally meet you Jaci," I repeated.

Again I said it.

I felt her clutching my hand. As her grip got tighter I felt a warm sensation on my face. It was her hand. Then she kissed me.

"Sean," she replied. "I'm right here, sweetie. I've always been here."

My eyes opened suddenly. I was staring at the ceiling.

"You were having a dream, sweetie." She kissed my shoulder. Her hand gently moved down my face and over my neck. It came to rest on my chest. She teased the hair on my chest with her fingertips.

"Do you remember the day we met?" I asked. "That day on the bus."

She kissed my shoulder again. "The best day of my life," she whispered.

I turned my head and met her lips with mine. I kissed her upper lip softly. Her bottom lip tasted better, I thought to myself. I kissed her again and held her bottom lips between mine, slowly sucking on it. I playfully licked it with my tongue.

She dug her nails into my chest.

I let go of her bottom lip as she stuck her tongue out. I kissed the tip of her tongue and began to suck on it.

I let go and simply said, "YOU are the best day of my life, Punky."

She was my little Punk Rock Girl. The Dead Milkmen made the song famous back in the late 80's. That was the song that she was listening to on the bus when we met each other. She was truly a product of the 90's. She made it though them by getting one tattoo each year on her birthday since she was twelve years old. Her eyebrow still had a small hole where she wore her piercing years ago. She was priceless. She was my world. She was all mine.

Whatever part of my cock that wasn't hard began to solidify as she ran her nails over my stomach.

In turn, I rolled over slightly to touch her as well. Her perfect little hips held her tiny ass in suspense as I felt her exhale into my open mouth.

I reached around and touched her lower back as she lay there on her side. I squeezed her ass cheek in the palm of my hand.

She moaned softly.

Morning sex! The best part of my day.

She was in her natural state of beauty. No makeup. No frills. Her perfect little breasts never moved as I could sense her nipples popping. Her skin melted between my fingers. The three-inch scar on her shoulder was the only mark on her body. Remnants of a bar fight last year that she of course won.

I forced my tongue into her mouth.

Her hand quickly moved to my cock and clutched it firmly. The tip of her thumb gently rubbed across the tip of my cock and as a small drip formed she wiped it clean. I felt the warmth of my own cum across my purple menace as she rubbed it slowly.

I pulled her perfect ass towards me and she let go of my cock. We embraced and fought each other with tongues.

She still had the faint smell of her perfume from the night before. It mixed well with the cologne that she bought me for the holidays only a few weeks back.

I pulled her even closer to me until I could feel her nipple touching mine. We kissed for what seemed hours but in all reality it was minutes. We didn't have to concentrate on making each other happy. It was an instinct that both of us shared. From the first minute that we met we instantly knew what the other person was thinking. We knew what made the other person happy.

With one spontaneous move, she pushed me over onto my back and put her hands on my chest. She leaned on my chest and bent forward slowly.

She kissed my upper lip.

She kissed my lower lip.

She licked my chin.

Her hands caressed my cheeks as she turned my head to one side.

She leaned forward again and put her lips to my ear.

"Good morning," I barely heard her as she kissed my ear.

She forced my head into the pillow with a powerful thrust. It seemed like she was doing a pushup on my head. One of her hands blocked my eyes and the other covered my ear.

Her perfectly shaved pussy was now grinding on my cock. She pushed harder as my head sunk deep into the pillow. Another pillow was coming. I could feel it.

She lowered her hips and moved them forward. I felt her knees spreading farther apart as she kissed my ear again. I felt the tip of my cock slowly slip into her as she whispered, "Yes-s-s."

She liked being on top and in control. It's so difficult to find a great woman who isn't self conscious about showing some power with her body. There's nothing hotter than a lady who takes pleasure in torturing her own pussy with a man's cock. She liked it slow and she took her time sliding it inside her. By the time she had reached the base of my rock hard shaft she was already reaching for another pillow. She didn't like me to watch as she fucked herself silly. She would take the pillow off my face to let me watch her cum, but only because she liked to talk with her hands. It wasn't really talking. I couldn't understand half of what she said anyway between the curse words and screams.

Dirty little mouth. A total slut in bed. Mine.

I thrusted my hips upwards as I felt her ass hit the tops of my thighs. With a slight movement to the right, the tip of my cock hit her right in the spot. She twitched in ecstasy.

She arched her back and grabbed a pillow.

"Do it again," she said a little louder.

The pillow felt cold on my face but I could hear a muffled voice on the other side.

"Fucker," was all I could hear, barely.

I gave her one more thrust and moved my hips to the right again. Another hit. Even through the pillow her punch was well received. It made me smile. She hated it when I smiled like that. An evil smile. Give me more. She was reading my thoughts.

"Stop smiling!" she yelled through the pillow.

She punched it again.

Her ass began to bounce off my thighs as she fucked herself harder. Her fingernails were digging into my chest again as she planted herself firmly. Those perfect little hips of hers bobbing up and down was all I could envision. I could feel the friction on my cock as her pussy contracted around it. Her thrashing of my dick increased as her pussy tightened. She drove her hips into my thighs. The pillow that was over my head abruptly came off and went flying across the room.

Five minutes flat. That was probably a new morning record for her. She fucked herself so well. What a low maintenance girl. I just loved it. I reached for her with my hands and straightened my arms. She interlocked her fingers with mine and pushed against them. I felt the tension on my cock as she rotated her pelvis around wildly. I felt the pulsing tip of my head brush past her Glory Spot three times.

She lost control.

"Fuck," she heaved.

"Sean," she gasped.

She spread the fingers on her right hand and let go of me. Her hand went straight down to her pussy as she lifted her hips straight up.

My cock made a popping sound as it slid out of her and smacked me in the abdomen.

She began to rub her clit violently. Her knees were holding her weight as she arched backwards. She suddenly stopped rubbing her cunt and used her two middle fingers to spread her lips apart.

She tilted her head forward to watch as she shot a stream of tasty pussy juice into my navel.

She rubbed her clit three more times and stopped. My cock was covered with her sticky white pussy goodness. It was her next target. The second wave of her attack sprayed my entire cock from the tip all the way down to my swollen sack of cum.

I watched eagerly as she shook her head back and forth in pure bliss. Her straight brown hair whipped her face as she dripped the last remains of her pussy onto my scrotum.

"Fucker," she exhaled. She smiled through the corner of her mouth.

"You didn't cum?" she asked, questioning my stamina.

"Sorry, Punker," I said regretfully. "You came too fast. Do you want me to make you some breakfast and we can talk about it?"

"No. I have breakfast right here," she smiled widely and then sighed. She looked down at my cock. It pulsed with every heartbeat of hers. She took two deep breaths in order to try to calm herself.

My stomach was sopping wet. Her pussy explosion was rolling down each side of it and onto the bed. She took both of her hands and massaged my stomach slowly.

She scooped up what juices she could and cupped it in her hands. I watched as she opened her hands slowly and stroked my throbbing dick with her dripping wet fingers.

My cock cradled perfectly in her tiny little hands. She smiled. Her thin lips curled seductively. I blinked slowly.

When I opened my eyes all I could see was the top of her head. With one smooth motion she had tossed her hair out of the way and sank her mouth onto my cock. No inhibitions. I didn't blame her. Her perfect little 22-year-old pussy tasted fabulous.

How did a dirty old 37-year-old man like me get a girl like this? To this day I will never know and I don't want to know. But it could be the fact that I told her that I was 27. It's not like we are living together and I haven't had a birthday yet.

She cupped my balls with one hand and held my cock in the other. She twisted my shaft gently as she sucked the tip of my cock. She began saying her ABC's with my cock between in her pirate vocabulary mouth.

I always liked it when she got to the letter "M". Her mouth would resonate around my cock. It created the perfect storm. She enjoyed moaning that letter 20 times before moving on.

Her messy hair covered my wet stomach. I could see her pussy juices slowly soaking into her hair. I slowly stroked her hair. I used a handful of her hair to wipe up the remainder of her cum that was glistening in the faint glow of the rising sun.

I couldn't see her face but I could sense her determination of my satisfaction.

She never let me down. She was my little spitfire sexual dynamo. When she came, she always made sure that I did too. She never wanted to owe me one. Those were the times that I would force her to do things that she couldn't even watch on the Internet.

I would make her do all sorts of creepy shit when we were in public. One time on the Metro bus, I made her jack me off while she fucked herself with a zucchini. It was her fault for wearing a skirt.

Another time I wrapped her hair around my cock and jerked off while she had my balls in her mouth.

She learned quickly and she learned the hard way. With time, she got better at being wildly spontaneous.

About a month ago she went down on me for no reason and with no forewarning. There were only four of us left on the bus at the time and we were sitting in the back. Just as we passed our stop, I blew my load into her throat and watched her swallow every last bit of it. I let her finish and she licked it clean. I rang the bell and we walked 7 blocks to get home that night. When we did eventually get home, I tongue-whipped her pussy three times. I didn't keep track of those two extra ones that she had. We considered it a wash. Besides, I made her wear a ball gag when I was going down on her for an hour. That worked for me. Even Steven, as they would say.

She gave great head and she was proving it again right now.

Her mouth swirled around my cock like a troupe of ballerinas covering a dance stage. She touched every part of it all the time. Instinctively, she would pull it out of her mouth and stroke me off three or four times. But then she would drive my tip into throat even farther.

I felt myself building up and my feet twitched instinctively. She noticed this as lifted her mouth off my cock. She had been watching my feet.

"It's about time," she sighed with relief.

I grabbed the tips of her hair and wrapped it about my fist. I had complete control of her head now.

"Good to the last drop," I said quietly.

I would soon be having a cup of coffee. The smell of fresh brewed coffee was faint in the air. It must be just after 7am I thought to myself. The pot was set to AutoBrew at 7:01 am each morning.

"Fuck sweetie," I said out loud. I used my outside voice intentionally. "We are out of creamer."

I lifted her head and she drooled on my stomach. She licked it off like a good girl.

I tightened my fist to control her head and forced her down on me. I was in control now. I was out of coffee, I was so fucking hard, and I was out of creamer!

Pushing her mouth onto my shaft felt great. She choked a little bit as my cock hit the back of her throat.

"Oh my god," I said.

"Mmm. Hmm." was all she could moan.

With my fist wrapped snugly around her hair, I could move her head anywhere. I did just that. I could feel her tongue bash my cock as I rotated her head in a circle. She was now totally in my world. My world is not a good place to be when I want to cum.

With one last upward thrust with my hips I made her choke again. That was it for me. The sound of her gagging made me reach my peak.

I let go of her hair. She knew what to do next. She grabbed my cock with both hands and held onto it loosely. I trained her well. She didn't squeeze when I was cuming. This allowed me to shoot my entire load into her mouth and meant less slurping for her. After all, that's what nice guys like me do. We help out whenever we can. She kept her head on my stomach as I pumped a gargantuan load into her mouth. It filled her cheek and made her hips move.

I interlocked my hands behind my head and relaxed for the ride.

The second load was my kicker. That one had to have hurt. I sprayed the inside of her mouth. She flinched and kicked her feet. She laid my pulsing cock on her tongue and waited for me to finish.

"Good to the last drop." I used my inside voice.

She lightly squeezed my dick in the middle and slid it slowly towards the tip. The last of my cum formed a sloppy drip at the tip of my pussy beater. She gently licked it clean and pushed herself up. She looked like a chipmunk foraging for winter food. Her cheek was still full of my tasty warm salty treat. As I lay there with my hands clenched behind my head, she smiled with her eyes.

Her head tilted back to swallow everything that was in her mouth but she didn't. She leaned forward and spit out all of my cum in a spray that covered my entire chest.

"My" dirty crazy little slutty whore.

I was in shock. I heaved deeply as the warm cum dripped down my ribs and over my nipples. She swallowed whatever was left. There couldn't have been much. She licked her lips and smiled.