lost in that fairy tale past, unaware that lust had found me on the 147.

The one guy that had been awake moved to where I was sitting and tried to start a conversation. He’d been drinking and his breath smelled of sour liquor. I couldn’t understand what he had said but simply smiled and agreed assuming it was something about the unseasonably warm winter. His eyes were glazed. The desire had him, lust was his shadow. His fingers pawed at the seat and the scratching sounded like begging. I shifted my position as the bus rocked from slamming a pothole.

I ignored the guy inflamed with desire next to me and said so in my body language. My mind raced back to memory number five. Particularly, the night I managed to slip my cock into Stephen’s “pothole,” one of the few times he’d let me do it. We’d been dancing, drinking, and of course he’d been smoking weed which would become a signal that he wanted me to fuck his fuzzy red. For whatever reason (I was nervous, stressed, not in the mood to top, it was my first time fucking him or perhaps intimidated by the idea of his ex boyfriend’s massive cock stretching him wide open) I couldn’t get an erection. I’d tossed the condom off and was going to call it a night when he requested that I just rub the head against his hole. I did and the warm sensation there caused me to become engorged. “Yeah” he said, “just put it in” and just like that, my erect prick sprang forth and grew into his anxious opening on its own. That was the first time I’d actually popped a woody inside a guy’s hole. Words can’t describe how good it felt floating free inside him.

Stephen was a little high from the pot so the sensation put him over the edge. My heart beat faster than it ever had while we fucked. I was both afraid and excited and almost came after a mere 30 seconds. He realized what we were doing and moved off my dick before I let the juices fly. To my surprise he turned around as I pretended to drop an invisible condom and started licking my balls while he jacked off. My breathing remained heavy. I started to stroke my erection which was wet from the secretions of his bowels. We both came in syncopation. I was lying back, him on all fours bucking and arching his body, his head fell between my thighs and I shot cum on the side of his face while he painted my leg a beat after. It was the best fifteen seconds of my life. Afterwards we lay there and chatted about nothing.

The next morning he asked if I’d fucked him without a rubber and I didn’t know what to say. “Why the fuck did we get tested then?” I should have protested but did not. The irony was that he had no problem with it the night before. Part of me wondered if perhaps his concern was not for his own safety, but mine. “What had he done” was the prominent question in my mind all that week.

Things of course got better and we were in a loving, trusting, monogamous relationship from all outward appearances. Two months later, he left me standing in the rain for no apparent reason other than things were going perfectly.

The bus stopped at the corner of King Drive and I exited the