The Bus Trip

The bus leaving Pittsburgh was not full. For this I was happy. I had my own two seats about halfway back on the bus at row 11. I was going home to Florida for the holidays and it was going to be a long trip, so it was nice that at least the first leg of it wouldn't be crowded.

While the bus had seats for 80 people and only a little over half of those seats were full, toward the back of the buss it looked packed. When I had gotten on I saw all the frat guys sitting back there and wisely decided to stop at row 11. I had a book I wanted to read on the trip, and I recognized a few of the guys from college and thought it best to avoid them. I'm not a nerd or geek that I would get picked on by them, in fact, my intramurals team just beat some of those guys in basketball, but I knew they would be loud and I wanted my peace.

There were very few girls on the bus. I had an older sister and when I saw my parents pay for her college, I got hopeful, but when they made me take out loans for mine I complained. My father told me that daughters are different than sons and when I have a daughter I will understand. That being the case, I had to pay to get me home and airline fare was too much. Likely, all the girls at my college had their parents pay to get them home.

I was proven wrong when I saw Suzy Mackly, get on the bus only minutes before we were scheduled to leave the station. I saw the fear in her face as she eyed up the back of the bus also and took an empty two seats a couple rows in front of me. I knew her from one of our humanities classes. Word was she was from a pretty poor family and was at school on a music scholarship. She wore cheap clothes and spent almost all of her spare time in the arts building, so I didn't think she had many friends. I'd be surprised if she even knew my name, but she was cute so I remembered hers.

The rest of the bus traffic was made up of older women (probably grandmas going to visit their family for Christmas) and a few guys dressed in military garb getting time off to go home.

The first few hours of the trip were uneventful. I read my book, turning my earphones up to muffle the obnoxious guys in the back. I looked back there a couple times after some particularly loud laughter and thought I saw a few of them with beer bottles. That was clearly against Greyhound rules, but I thought at least it meant they would sleep well. This was a 26 hour ride for me, and my first transfer wasn't until Washington D.C, which would be in the middle of the night, and I hoped the guys would at least let us get some sleep.

I quickly realized that our bus driver was a smoker. You aren't allowed to smoke on the bus, obviously, so we ended up stopping every two hours for a 20 minute break. I thought it was rather excessive, but complaining about it wasn't going to change things, so I took the opportunity to stretch my legs and get something to eat.

The frat guys all got off too and smoked with the driver. They were joking crudely with him as I walked by, obviously trying to get on his good side so that if he caught them with their beer, he wouldn't kick them off. We stopped twice in the first four hours. Both times I got a cheap burger off a 99 cent value menu from a fast food place. When I got on the second time, I noticed that Suzy hadn't gotten off either time.

I also saw the same fear in her eyes as when she had gotten on the bus. At the time I thought it was because of the guys in the back, but they had quieted down a bit since we had started off. I hesitated by her seats as she looked forlornly out of the window, wondering if I should offer to buy her a burger or something. It was only 4:00 in the afternoon, maybe she wasn't hungry.

When we stopped again at 6:00, I was beginning to get frustrated with the driver. We weren't even out of Pennsylvania yet. However, this was the dinner stop, and the elderly woman and military guys all got off here to eat. I wasn't hungry, and only a couple of the guys in the back got off. I watched over Suzy's seat wondering if she was going to eat at all.

Eventually her brunette head did rise above the seat, but only barely. She was about 5'4'', with hair passed her shoulders and a cute face. I could see her face because instead of making her way off the bus, she was standing in the middle of the isle facing back.

A few of the guys in the back saw her standing there looking at them and quieted down. She got a few cat calls and whistles, but they calmed down after a while, curious as to what she might be doing. I saw the fear in her eyes very plainly now. It was a shame too, because it ruined a perfect face. Her bulky winter coat hid her upper body, but tight jeans let you know she had a slim figure.

"Guys," she said, almost in a whisper. Those in the back that had still been making noise quieted down now to hear what she was going to say. "Guys," she started again, a little more confidence. "I really hate to ask this, and I feel awful about it, but I really need some help. My mom sent me a check to get home for Christmas, but she didn't know how much the bus fare would be. I only had enough money to buy a ticket to DC, and I need to get all the way to Tampa. I hate to beg, but in the spirit of Christmas, I was wondering if any of you guys would be willing to give me $5. It would really help out. We go to the same school so I could pay you back if you give me your name."

She had said her piece and was now biting her lip in concern at the response. I had bought my ticket and knew that she was going to need about $50 total. Who knows how much she had left over from what her mom gave her, but for ten of the guys in the back to come up with $5 each, shouldn't be hard.

The silence on the bus was deafening. She stood only a couple rows in front of me, and I found my self staring at her. She didn't notice, as her eyes were several rows back, focusing on the mass of guys behind me. I thought I had $12 in my wallet, which I would definitely give her if she needed it. I used plastic whenever I could, so I didn't carry much cash.

I didn't know how the guys in the back would react. They had been drinking, but she had given a rather sobering performance. The silence lasted for several moments until someone shouted: "I'll give you five bucks if you take off your shirt!" Raucous laughter ensued and the sentiment was echoed several more times.

I watched in disappointment as her face went flush and she spun around and dropped back to her seat. Now I really felt bad for her. It was Christmas, for crying out loud. Did these guys have no heart at all? I wondered if she shouldn't have asked some of the older women that had been sitting around her for money, but I guessed she felt more comfortable talking to people from school. Plus, she would be able to pay them all back after the break. But they had been jerks, and now she wouldn't get anything.

I was just about to get up and give her my $12 when I saw her get up from her chair again. She wasn't wearing her coat anymore. She had on a pink sweater that looked pretty old. It wasn't designed to be tight, but she had probably worn it since grade school, so it was a size too small and though she was thin, she had decent breasts.

"If I take off my shirt," she started, and I could tell from the tone of her voice that while she couldn't believe she was actually going to do this, she was very desperate. She swallowed hard for more courage. "If I take off my shirt, how many of you will give my $5?"

I pried my eyes off of her to gaze back as well over a dozen hands rocketed up. It was way more than she needed, and as I looked back to her, I saw a bit of relief on her face. For a few seconds flash, she would be able to get home for Christmas. I could tell she had tortured herself with ideas of having to spend Christmas in DC at some homeless shelter and this alternative, thought not appealing, was way better.

She reached down to the bag on her chair and pulled out a used envelope. "I'm going to pass this back and you can put the money in it and then pass it forward." I saw her eye the distance between herself and the guys in the back and for the first time noticed me. She took a few quick steps forward, handed the envelope to me, and I reached back over my head until it was quickly snatched away.

I watched her watch the envelope move to the back of the bus. The guys in the back talked amongst themselves until the chosen spokesman chimed up. "We need to see the goods before we pay."

"I'm gonna do it," she said, and I watched her cast a worried look through the windows of the bus toward the restaurant from which the rest of the passengers would shortly be returning.

"We're waiting," the guy in the back said.

"Fine," Suzy huffed. She crossed her arms down to the bottom of the sweater and pulled it over her head. "Happy?"

I was getting pretty happy between my legs. She stood in her bra and jeans barely an arms-length from me. The bra was cheap, of course, but she filled it nicely. I wagered she was a 34B, with tanned skin and a tight stomach. Throw some nice clothes at her and she could model.

The guys in the back weren't as impressed. "If I wanted to see a bra, I would look in a JC Penney's catalogue. I'm paying for titties or nothing."

She had to know this complaint was coming, and from the look on her face, she had. Maybe she had hoped to cheat them out of some money for just her bra, but with the speed that she reached up behind her back, she had already made up her mind she would go the whole way if she had to.

The bra loosened and then fell from her shoulders unceremoniously. She wasn't going to do a tease for these guys, but it all looked good to me. She had perfectly round grapefruits hanging from her chest. While the bus was heated, the snowy outdoors was just beyond the windows, and her nipples responded appropriately. She got a few sincere whistles from the back and then a bunch of sarcastic ones.

Suzy put her hands on her hips and gave the back a scolding look. "Now put the money in the envelope and pass it back up."

"You are going to have to come back here to get my five bucks," the spokesman said, apparently still not satisfied.

"I am not going back there," she said firmly. I could tell she had also made this decision before getting up.

"Then how can we tell if they are real or not. I'm not paying for no fake titties. And they look too perfect to be real."

I had to agree with guy for once. They did look too good to be real. They were almost perfect half spheres. She had the beginnings of cleavage even without her bra, and they were as perky A cups would be. Now she did catch me staring at her, but she didn't look angry. Instead she looked hopeful. She walked up right next to me, her breasts at eye level and less than a foot away.

"Go ahead," she told me. "Tell them their real."

There wasn't a scar anywhere to be seen, as if a girl who couldn't afford bus fare was going to spring for a five figure plastic surgery. I was about to voice my opinion, when she lost patience with me.

"Come one already, don't be shy." She reached forward, her erect nipple a mere inch from my mouth as she grabbed my right hand and brought it up to her breast. The perfect mound filled my sweaty palm easily, and I felt my left hand get jealous and move up to her other breast. I kneaded them gently, feeling the firm flesh in my fingers. I didn't know how long she would allow this, and made sure I got the chance to rub her perky nipples between my fingers before she stepped back.

"And?" she asked me.

"They're real," I choked out. I coughed and cleared my voice, figuring this girl deserved more than that. I stood up and turned to look at the guys. "They are definitely real. Now pay up."

I locked eyes with the spokesman, and recognized him from our basketball game a week ago. He recognized me as well, and I knew he remembered me lighting him up for 15 points. There was some mutual respect there, and he gave in. "Fine," he finally said. "I just think it's a raw deal."

A few others echoed his sentiment. I looked at Suzy for her reaction but saw she had already turned and was sitting back in her chair as she put her bra on. I saw her arms go up, as she slipped the sweater on too, and then she stayed in her chair.

I wondered if the guys were going to give her any money when the envelope didn't make its way back up immediately. After a while, the dinner crowd started to come back on the bus, and it wasn't until we were ten minutes back on the road before I heard a light slap in the aisle. I looked down and saw the envelope lying there from where it had landed. I reached down for it and inspected its contents.

I frowned at $25. I just couldn't understand some guys. I reached for my own wallet and pulled out a ten, and put it inside, wishing I could do more. As I opened the envelope wider to put the money in, I saw a slip of paper with some handwriting on it. It was terrible penmanship and I could barely read it: "I'll give you $50 for a blow job tonight. Seat 17B."

I thought about taking the note out of there, thinking she didn't need the abuse, but part of me worried that when she saw how little money was in the envelope, she would storm back there. If she did that, I feared for her safety. The guys had been drinking, and she had just stripped for them. They only had one thing on their minds, and she needed to know that before she went back there. I left the note in.

I leaned forward after I had put my $10 in and tapped one of the military guys on the shoulder. He hadn't been on the bus earlier and would have no idea what the envelope was for. "Excuse me, can you hand this to the girl in the seat ahead of you? Tell her it is from the guys in the back." He nodded, and I quickly shrunk back into my seat before she could turn around to see who the envelope had come from.

I wanted no part of that envelope. I had not raised my hand when she had asked for money initially, and I definitely didn't want to be lumped in with the stingy group now. If she still felt it prudent to go to the back of the bus to complain, I didn't want her stopping by me first.

I listened for some kind of reaction from her, but if there was any, the bus drowned it out. I waited for a few more moments, and as I heard what I thought were sobs, I pulled out my book and turned on the headphones again.

***

We made a couple more stops on the way to DC, but I got lucky and no one else sat next to me. About as many people got on as got off, and most of the people paid one look to the back and stayed near the front. Despite the stops, I figured I should try to get some sleep. We would make it to DC by 1:00am, and I had no idea how long the layover would be. If I was going to get any sleep tonight, it might have to be now.

With one leg across the aisle seat and the other on the floor, I propped my coat against the bus window and managed to get somewhat comfortable. I had tried not to think about Suzy for the past few hours. After all, she might have enough money left over from her mom to make the $35 work. Or she might be able to buy a ticket as far as Atlanta and maybe get some more help there.

After I worked that out in my head, I had been able to focus on my book. But now that I had my eyes closed, all I could see were her two perfect breasts in my face. "Can you please give me a ride to Tampa?" she asked in my dream. She stepped into my aisle and sat her tight but in my lap. My dick began to push hard against my jeans and also into hers. Her breasts were inches from my mouth again.

"You want to ride me to Tampa?" I asked blurrily in my dream.

She smiled broadly. "If that is how you want it." Her hands ran down the front of her body, gliding over her full curves and flat stomach. I felt her hands on my lap and adjusted my slouched posture at her touch. It felt too real and I straightened fully in her grasp.

Her hands pressed against my jeans, feeling out my size and shape. I felt my balls tighten and had a sudden fear that I was going to have a wet dream right there on the bus. My subconscious wanted to pull me away from the dream to save my underwear, but my hormones kept my locked onto the image before me.

Suzy recognized my willingness to stay with her and smiled at me as she scooted off my lap and knelt on the floor before me. Her hands continued to feel me out through my jeans and I winced against the desire to moan out loud. It felt so good and so real that I actually believed it was happening.

At the sound of my zipper being opened my body froze. The dreamy atmosphere faded suddenly around me. The hard bus seat pressed back against my body as the vibration of the road filled my senses. I was awake again with a crick in my neck. I didn't want to open my eyes though. I didn't want to succumb to the fact that I was no longer in my dream, that the topless beauty wasn't kneeling before me preparing to suck on my cock.

I tried desperately to reenter that half-asleep state where one can control the dream to an extent. I felt the faint tugging at my crotch, almost as if Suzy was trying to pull me back into my dream by my dick. I could feel her fingers against my hot flesh as she pulled down the waistline of my boxers and wrenched my hard-on free.

The feeling was so real that I tried to follow it back into my dream. I tried to see her before me again, but as the bus hit a pothole and a sharp pain shot down my neck, I knew it wouldn't happen. I felt her hands leave me and all sensation from the dream disappeared.

I kept my eyes closed as I pushed myself up a few inches to readjust. I longed for the feeling of Suzy's hands back on my dick, but all I felt was the cool air of the bus. It took a few seconds for this sensation to sink in, and I slowly opened my eyes.

My cock was sticking straight up though the open fly of my jeans.

It took a moment for my sleepy eyes to focus in the dim light of the bus, and I hoped to find the topless Suzy of my dreams kneeling before me. I was disappointed, but only slightly.

Suzy was there in her pink sweater with her coat pulled up over her head. From behind she would be formless, just a dark mass piled in front of my seat. My eyes adjusted to the aisle across from mine, and I saw a lightly snoring grandma.

My eyes went back to Suzy. She seemed to be bracing for another pothole. The first had thrown her off her work, but now that the bus returned to its smooth ride, she leaned forward again. Her eyes never rose to mine, and as she lowered her head over my lap, her large coat hid everything from view.

What was going on? Was this real? Was I still dreaming? As I felt her fingers on my cock again I knew this wasn't a dream. But why was she doing this? My mind searched for some connection. It wasn't working well at this moment, but I vaguely remembered an envelope with a note and then . . .

Beneath the coat a warm, wet mouth slowly lowered itself over my throbbing head. Her tongue pressed against the bottom of my dick, licking gently up as her lips popped back up over my hood. My mind went blank as I tried to cope with reality.

I was getting blown on a bus filled with people. Okay, not "filled" but there were peo-

She went down again. This time she took me deeper, the tip of my cock pressing hard against the back of her throat. My thoughts scrambled again, and I gave in to the fact that I was not going to figure out what was going on, and I might as well enjoy it.

She left me deep in her mouth as her tongue ran back and forth, up and down against my shaft. For once in my life, I was glad that I wasn't as long as a porn star or else this small girl wouldn't be able to take me all.

She pulled up slowly again, making me feel long by the time it took her to travel my length. Her hand came in under her mouth now, rubbing her slick saliva up and down my cock. Her head bobbed up and down over my head in rhythm with her hand as her tongue flicked at my hole.