Archive-name: Places/bus.txt

Archive-author: Ron Kaplan

Archive-title: Commute, The





     Port Authority Bus Terminal was nearly empty at this hour of the 

evening.  Ben waited on line for his bus home to Jersey, exhausted after 

another day of bullshit at his public relations firm.  It was bad enough 

to pull these late nights on occasion, but to top it off this was the 

start of the July 4th weekend.  Just about everyone else had deserted 

the city for cooler climates, making the station seem more desolate than 

usual.



     There were two other business types waiting on the "33" line.  Ben 

looked at the clock: 11:45, five more minutes.  He glanced across the 

corridor, to an old bum lying in front of a bank of payphones, to the 

contents of a trashcan overturned by someone looking for cans  to

recycle.  He was jostled from his reverie by a soft voice.



     "Excuse me, is this the line for Montclair?"  Ben turned to behold 

a very pretty blonde.  He momentarily forgot the question as he stared 

at her.  "The 33, does it stop here?"



     The woman appeared to be in her mid-twenties.  She was clad in a 

short, loose black skirt with a sleeveless gold top that accented her 

hair, which looked freshly washed.  Maybe she just came from the gym, 

Ben thought.  Her attire and hair complemented a deep golden tan.  Ben 

remembered that it had been some time since he'd been laid and he felt 

some familiar twitchings in his pants.



     "Oh, sorry," he finally responded.  "Yeah, this is the line."  The 

blonde thanked him and pulled out a paperback.



     The bus pulled up to the door and the riders boarded.  They were 

greeted by an announcement that there was an accident in the Lincoln 

Tunnel that could delay the trip.  If there was one thing Ben hated, it 

was getting stuck in the tunnel.



     The two passengers ahead of him sat up front.  Ben opted for 

something in the middle of the bus.  The blonde sat in the row in front 

of him, across the aisle.  



     When the bus pulled away from the gate, the driver turned off the 

main lights.  Ben switched on his overhead lamp and returned to his 

crossword puzzle.  The blonde switched her light but it didn't work. 

Neither did the one for the seat next to her.  "Shit," she muttered, as 

she gathered he bag and moved to the seat directly across from Ben.  At 

least he would have something to look at.



     The blonde crossed her sexy legs, and tugged at her skirt.  Ben 

kept glancing at her, hoping she wouldn't catch him.  But she was intent 

on her book.



     Ben closed his eyes as the bus rolled down the ramp.  He imagined 

the blonde opening her legs, pulling up her skirt, revealing a beautiful 

pink pussy, covered with fine flaxen hair.  In his mind he saw her lick 

her finger and reach down to caress her moistening slit, sliding back 

and forth over her clit.  Her eyes were closed as she started rubbing 

faster now, alternating between pushing her finger into her cunt and 

rubbing her clit.  She looked so angelic, deep in  concentration,

striving for orgasm.



     Once she attained her climax, she opened her eyes to look directly 

into Ben's face.  She licked her lips at him and...



     The bus screeched to a halt, almost throwing the passenger's from 

their seats.  Ben opened his eyes to discover they were in the tunnel. 

And not moving.  "Sorry, folks," the diver said.  "Must  be  that

accident.  Dispatch says they're cleaning up the mess and we can expect 

to be here for about fifteen minutes or so."



     "Swell," Ben thought, "Just great.  Damn it!  I knew I should have 

taken the train today."  He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, 

trying to remain calm.  He stood to remove his jacket.  His shirt was 

damp with sweat as he sat back down.



     "Are you all right?"  It was the blonde.  She looked at him with a 

sympathetic expression.



     "Oh, sure.  Yeah, I'll be fine.  Not too happy about tunnels, you 

know?"     He was surprised at how easily he spoke about his fears to 

this stranger.  



     "You need something to take your mind off the situation," she said. 

"Maybe talking would help.  My name is Rachel."



     "That's a very pretty name.  I'm Ben."



     "Hi, Ben.  And thanks.  What do you do in the city?"



     "I own a small PR firm on the East Side," he said.  She was right, 

this was helping.  "What about you?"



     "I'm a dancer in a club on 57th."  



     "Really, what kind of dancing?" Ben asked, expecting her to answer 

ballet or jazz.  She certainly had the lithe body for it.



     "I am what they call an 'exotic' dancer.  I work in a strip joint 

that just opened.  The money's good and I'm saving for  the  fall

semester.  I'm studying to be a dietician."  Ben was taken aback by her 

candor.  He would think that being an exotic dancer was not something to 

flaunt.  He mentioned that to her and she laughed.  Her smile brightened 

the gloomy bus.



     "Well, I'm just a basically honest person, Ben," she said, sliding 

from the window to the aisle seat across from him.  I've always been 

that way, saying what I mean and asking for what I want.  Life's too 

short for bullshit, don't you think?"



      Ben thought, now here's a real woman.  Not like those who pretend 

to be independent and forthright but who revert to helpless females when 

things get rough.  He admired aggressive women, especially when it came 

to sex and imagined that Rachel would be fantastic in bed.



     She must have caught something in his eye.  "Mind if I sit next to 

you?" she asked.  "No sense in annoying the others with our talk at this 

time of night."



     "No, by all means, please," Ben answered, grateful  for  her

sensitivity.  Rachel rose from her seat and gracefully moved over.  Her 

skirt hiked halfway up her thighs but she made no attempt to adjust. 

She shook her hair and pressed the button to move the seat back.  She 

stretched out on her seat like a cat waking up from a nap.



     "So tell me, Ben.  Have you ever been blown on a bus before?"  She 

said it so casually, Ben thought he couldn't have heard correctly. 

"Pardon me," he squeaked.



     "Oh, come on, now, Ben. Don't be coy.  I saw you looking at me 

before.  You'd love to get into my pants, wouldn't you?  Remember, I 

love honesty."



     Was this some kind of game?  Was she like other women who wanted 

you to be honest with them, and then were terribly shocked or hurt when 

you were?  Ben figured he had nothing to lose.



     "Well, er...no.  I mean yes.  I mean..."  Whew, Ben let out a sigh 

and shook his head.  He looked her straight in her beautiful brown eyes. 

"I mean, no, I've never been blown on a bus.  And yes, I think getting 

into your pants would be a lot of fun."  There.  She wanted honesty? 

She got honesty.



     "That's good, because I'm feeling very horny tonight.  And this 

strikes me as a perfect opportunity."  Her right hand slowly moved to 

her thighs as her left went into Ben's lap.  His cock strained against 

his pants as he watch the skirt rise up her lovely legs.  He was rapt as 

her panty-less pussy came into view, the lips already  displaying

moistness.  One long finger traced her opening while she unzipped Ben's 

fly and free his throbbing dick.  Rachel rubbed some pre-cum fluid from 

his tip around the head.  



     Ben looked around, not believing how wonderful it could be to get 

stuck in the Lincoln Tunnel.  Rachel lowered her head to his dick with 

aching slowness, opening her red lips wide to accept his seven inches. 

When her mouth closed on his member, Ben thought he would scream in 

delight.  Instead, he bit his lip as the aroma from Rachel's cunt, 

drenched with her own love juice's, began to waft through his nostrils. 

He reached for her pussy, but Rachel giggled and pushed his hand away. 

"Uh-uh, Ben.  That's not for you.  This is for you," as she lowered her 

mouth once again.  The sensation was incredibly hot and wet, like soap 

in the shower.  Her head bobbed faster and faster, her tongue swirling 

the length of his cock.  



     Just as Ben sensed the cum readying to blow the back of Rachel's 

off, the bus started moving.  Rachel looked up for a second but quickly 

returned to the task at hand.  Her fingers dived back into her cleft and 

her breathing accelerated.



     Ben strained against his seat as the heat and wetness of Rachel' 

mouth made it impossible to hold off his orgasm.  With thundering force 

he began to pump shot after shot of pungent sperm into Rachel's willing 

mouth.  He gritted his teeth to keep quiet.  Rachel amazed him with her 

ability to swallow it all, while at the same time heading for her own 

climax.  



     Rachel swallowed the last drops of love fluid just as the bus 

emerged from the tunnel.  She adjusted her skirt over her thighs and 

smiled at Ben.  "See, that wasn't so terrible, was it?" she asked, 

licking her lips.  And for the first time Ben was happy for having 

worked late.



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