Snick ... Fizzzzzz...

"You got another one of those?" I asked the guy seated in the row ahead of me. I had to half-stand and lean over the high backed vinyl seat to see him.

"Just the one," he replied, turning his head with surprised annoyance. Once he got a look at me though, he smiled and his voice grew warm. "But I guess we can share if you want."

"Great." I smiled back at him.

The sun had just about set when I'd gotten on the bus in Oakland, bound for New York City. It would be a long, long ride the ticket agent promised, but what else did I have to do? I wanted to get as far from my husband as I could and Gray Hound was having a special. The man moved to sit beside me and the bus wasn't very crowded in any event, less than half full, so we had plenty of room. He looked young, like me, maybe 24 or 25 I guessed, and not too hard on the eyes with his button down shirt unbuttoned over a white muscle-T, a pair of faded jeans. The usual.

I must have looked pretty good too, especially since I was the only girl on the bus older than 12 and younger than 50, I think. Except for the little girl's mom, but she hardly counted with that pigtailed anchor weighing her down. All I had to hold me back was the gold band around my finger and that wasn't going to matter to anyway, was it? Not to me as I rode the bus across America in my pleated grey skirt and loose denim top. I was showing off, I knew that, especially my legs the way I sat leaned up against the dark tinted window. I had my heels up on the seat with the skirt falling between my creamy thighs. I pushed it down, making sure my little blue panties were covered up, but I didn't feel like moving too much once I'd gotten comfy.

"I'm Pete," he said after taking the seat next time mine. He held his 40 ounce beer in his left hand and offered me the right.

"Gina," I replied, brushing some of my dirty blonde hair out of my hazel eyes. Usually I kept it tied back, but the bus had air conditioning anyway, so I'd let it go just to relax that much more. We touched fingers and that's all.

"How far are you going?" he asked, handing me the beer so I could take a sip. His eyes wandered down to my tits, firm and braless beneath my dark halter. I'd taken my bra off first thing, since I'd only be sitting and the straps tended to get itchy after awhile.

"Mmmm ... Thanks." I took a swallow. "All the way. New York."

Pete took his beer back and nodded. "Long ways."

"How about you?"

"Just down to Bakersfield." He gave me a little shrug. "I got some work down there."

"What do you do?" We were just killing time.

"Cowboy," he said with a grin and I laughed. "Serious. I've been working horses and cattle my whole life. I like it."

"That's pretty neat," I decided. "I've never met a real live cowboy before."

We shared some more beer, drinking it slowly between us and talking while the sunlight thinned with the city. The driver turned on some overhead lights, not bright ones, but it lit the back of the bus up enough so we could see each other. There were reading lights too, but we left those off.

"So, uh ... Married, huh?" Pete had his hand on my leg, stroking me above my left knee, moving up and down and I hadn't complained.

I held up my hand, looking at my rings like I'd forgot. A little engagement diamond and a plain gold wedding band.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Sorta married."

"Sorta?" He chuckled. "Never got the hang of sorta married."

"Well..." I shrugged. "He ain't here, is he?"

As soon as I said that, we both knew Pete would be fucking me soon. I had that feeling, the electric tingle of a connection being made, and maybe I really wanted to have sex with the guy. Like I was determined to prove I could do whatever I wanted and that being married didn't matter a whole lot.

I reached out with my left hand, pressing it against the swell in Pete's jeans, feeling his cock under there, curled up, but hardly sleeping. Nobody could see us, we might as well have been alone, and it felt that way as I massaged the cool denim under my fingers. I was all alone, on the long road to nowhere.

Pete's hand slid lower while we looked at each other, under my skirt and across the very soft skin of my inner thigh. I spread my legs, just a little wider for him, and licked my lips when I felt his fingers graze my panty covered sex. He leaned close and kissed me, softly at first, but then deeper as I let his tongue split my lips. I moaned softly as his fingertip found the crease in my panty, riding the furrow of my barely covered slit.

"Take it out..." I whispered, moving in my seat so I could reach under my skirt and pull my panties off.

Pete looked around briefly before he started undoing his pants, not just the zipper, but unbuttoning them too, loosening his belt so I could reach everything. I found his swollen cock and lower, his scrotum as well and I pulled his balls free. He had a nice cock, thick and not very long and hard as steel, I swear. We just smiled at each other, me stroking his dick and Pete fingering my increasingly moist sex.

"You ever done it on a bus?" he asked me with a smile and I shook my head. "Me neither."

I stood up and looked at him. "Slide over by the window."

He knew what I wanted to do and he grinned as he took my place. Our legs were a little crowded at first, but once I got both of my feet outside his, straddling him, it worked out even better than I'd planned. I sat down slowly, letting Pete guide his cock into my pussy and I sighed, trying to be quiet as I felt his thickness stretching me pleasantly.

"You're nice and tight, Gina," he whispered in my ear and I smiled at that. My husband might have been longer, but not nearly so big around and this was a good and different feeling for me.

It was also the first time I'd ever cheated on him and maybe I would have felt a little more guilty if I hadn't been running away from him, but I still wore the rings. I hadn't taken those off, so I didn't know what I was doing to tell the truth. Except I had a stranger fucking me on a bus, a guy I'd known for all of two hours and in another hour he'd be getting off. I'd never see Pete again in my life and that knowledge gave me another kind of thrill that I didn't understand.

I didn't move up and down so much as I just rocked my hips, moving my firm round ass back and forth, feeling that nice penis inside me. My pussy really was tight and hot for him, I knew that because I could feel it myself, and it got really good when Pete started massaging my breasts with his hands, nuzzling my neck and making me squirm. I was going to cum, I realized with something like shock.

I hardly ever came during intercourse. Usually, sometimes, I could get off while I was masturbating in the bathtub, or once in awhile when my husband went down on me, but this ... My orgasm burst with unexpected pleasure and I leaned back, shaking as I closed my eyes and let it happen. Not that I had much choice, I was cumming whether I wanted to or not and Pete liked it, he could feel my pussy contracting around him and he started moving then, lifting his hips slightly, working his cock back and forth inside me with soft, wet sounds. I'd gotten very wet very fast and I could smell the oily tang of my juices as they spilled down his shaft.

"I'm gonna cum ... shit ... is it okay?" he asked, breathing the words into my ear and I had to blink for a second, trying to clear my head.

I wasn't on the pill or anything and fucking a guy whose last name I didn't even know. I had about two weeks until my next period, so this was bad timing. I should have told him to pull out. He seemed like a nice guy, he would have done it, but it felt so good, you have no idea how good, and I shouldn't have been fucking him in the first place.

"Yeah, it's okay ... Fuck me," I whispered. "Cum inside me. I wanna feel it."I licked my lips as Pete held my ass, digging his fingers into my soft flesh and pulling me down as he lifted himself upwards. The slapping of my butt against his thighs seemed to fill my head if not the whole bus and I knew I was screwing up probably. This went beyond cheating, I was letting someone other than my husband fuck me. Every inch of the man drove into my slick hole, his cockhead reaching for my womb, and I wasn't stopping him. Pete was going to give me my wish and cum inside me.

It made me cum again, even as I felt Pete's hands squeezing me so hard I thought I would pop, and I was grinding. I rocked that cock like an insatiable slut, and maybe for a few moments there a slut is exactly what I'd become. I climaxed hard and felt his cock throbbing and jerking against the walls of my buttery sex. The idea cut through the fog like a knife, that was his sperm shooting inside me and it felt fantastic and welcome, and I didn't give a fuck about anything else right then. Every guy I'd slept with since losing my virginity at sixteen had worn a condom, even my husband, but now I finally knew what it really felt like, skin to skin, being filled with hot semen.

We sat there for several minutes smiling and catching our breath and I had no idea if anyone on that bus knew what we'd just done or not. It seemed impossible that someone wouldn't. There were a few coughs, the occasional sneeze, but nobody jumped up pointing and yelling. But our sex had to fill the air, that distinctive scent after I'd cum twice. Two good orgasms to make it beautiful and I could feel the wetness under my ass, soaking onto Pete's flushed skin and probably his undone trousers.

"Fuck, that was great, Gina..." Pete turned my head and kissed me on the mouth, but I wasn't in the mood for it.

Like fucking was okay, but kissing ... That just felt too personal. I didn't want to be intimate, I just wanted to fuck. So I let him kiss me, but I didn't really respond to his lips and tongue. If Pete thought that seemed odd, he didn't say anything though, and why should he? His cock was still semi-hard, still bathing inside my cunt and we were moving again, fucking slowly when the sign that said "Bakersfield Next Exit" flashed by.

"Shit." Pete groaned and he wanted to cum again, but there wasn't enough time, not after that first orgasm he'd had.

"Too bad you're not going all the way." I giggled, getting up awkwardly and feeling the wetness leaking from my pussy.

"Yeah," he agreed, looking down at his hard glistening penis. He'd gotten pretty wet and I felt kind of bad about that, but I had my own problems.

The bus had a tiny bathroom in the back and I went into it quickly, avoiding a few stares from people, some whispering, and I realized we hadn't been all that discrete. I found tissue in the bathroom anyway and spent five minutes cleaning myself up. I'll confess that's about the time when I started thinking I might want to have some paper towels handy, some bottled water too maybe, just in case of emergencies. But I didn't have a plan ... Not yet anyway.

That came later, after the bus had pulled into the terminal and the driver announced thirty minutes until we hit the road again. I found a Kwicki-Mart and bought some baby wipes, some Kleenix, and even a couple cotton hand towels. I wasn't quite sure why the place would be selling those, but I was glad they were. I spent some time in the restroom too, cleaning myself up. Pete had put a lot of cum up inside me and while I'd enjoyed it at the time, cleaning it out without the use of a shower turned out to be a bit of a pain.

I bought a coke and leaned up against the wall drinking it, killing time. For being after ten at night, the bus depot seemed kind of busy, mostly with people transferring from one bus to another it looked like. Pete was gone and we hadn't had much of a goodbye. What were we gonna say? Same time next year? See ya later? Miss you already? Fuck it ... He was just a cock and it had felt good, but it hadn't meant anything except a few hours gone faster than they would have been otherwise.

But that's just me trying to be jaded. I didn't think like that, really; I wasn't that tough or even that cynical. I wished I could have gotten to know him better, and I would miss him a little. I just didn't want to. It was bad enough I'd started to miss my husband and I really didn't need the guilt.

"How much?" a guy wondered and it took me a moment to understand he'd spoken to me.

"Excuse me?" I looked at him, not understanding at all. He'd been one of the men I'd ignored when I'd gotten up to use the toilet

"On the bus," he said softly. "How much are you charging?"

It still didn't hit me right away, it took about three good seconds and then I almost slapped his face hard. But something stopped me and I don't know what it was exactly. Practicality maybe, because I was traveling on one hell of a tight budget. I'd probably have to miss a meal because I'd bought some mineral water, that kind of budget.

"Fifty," I told him, and my heart hammered because I had no clue what we were doing.

"How about a suck job?" He scratched his chin like he was asking me about the weather.

"Twenty," I decided with a shrug.

"Kay." He smiled. "See you on the bus."

The guy walked off, just a plain guy, like 35 years old. Nothing remarkable about him at all, except he'd just turned me into a whore. I had to think about that and suddenly my Coke didn't taste quite the same. My stomach grew tight and my nerves caught up with me. I shivered, like someone had just walked on my grave, and I dropped my half-finished soda in a garbage can, deciding I needed to sit down.

The only place to do that was on the bus and part of me didn't want to get back on now. I could cash my ticket, I told myself, trade it in for a ride back home. My husband was an asshole, yeah, but I loved him. I could be a bitch too sometimes and we'd had a bad stretch, that's all, both of us going off and that wasn't right. That wasn't the way it was supposed to be.

I almost talked myself into it when the announcement for the bus came over the loudspeakers. The driver hitched up his grey pants, heading towards the bus and I couldn't decide. And then I did decide, it was more his fault then mine. I'd ride to the next stop and call him. I'd call my husband up and see what he had to say. I could always cash in my ticket just as long as I wasn't more than halfway to New York, I figured, and I'd be able to go back.

And maybe that wasn't my only excuse, since I knew a guy wanted to pay me for sex. Did that make me more desirable as a woman, or less, I wondered. Being paid for sex, just to suck a guy, or let him fuck me, what did that mean? I'd never thought about it before. I didn't have fantasies of being a whore, but I didn't have anything against it particularly. A woman's body his her own, my own body, and if I wanted to use it to make money, well ... Why should anyone care? Except maybe my husband, but he wasn't here, was he?

I switched seats on the bus, moving all the way to the back row just because I thought maybe I'd gotten my previous seat a little damp, but I was probably just imagining things anyway. I'd gotten Pete damp, that's for sure, and my skirt a little, but not so bad. I still hadn't put my panties back on and that had been a little rush, hanging out in a bus station with nothing on under my skirt. I was slip slidin' into something, but I didn't know what. None of this seemed much like me at all, but you have to take my word for that. I used to be a good girl.

"Hey." The guy I'd talked to at the bus station didn't waste any time.

"Hi," I said, wondering if I was supposed to smile or not.

We were barely on the highway, the bus half full again, the dim overhead lights turned on. And now I sat close with a guy and he didn't care what my name was, or where I was going or why. I decided I liked that actually, there was some kind of truth there, something alluring about being anonymous and not even pretending anything meaningful. People have names. People have feelings. I was just a thing for this guy, something for him to use, and I liked it. I was ready to be used maybe, just because there wasn't any obligation in that. No responsibility.

I'd run away from that stuff more than I had my husband. Maybe.

"Give me a suck," the guy whispered, pressing a folded up twenty dollar bill into my hand.

It was just that simple, that easy, and if I had second thoughts or doubts, they didn't matter. I was going to suck this guy's cock for no other reason than I could use the money and I had nothing better to do. It seemed so simple I wanted to throw up.

But I didn't. I just nodded, sticking that twenty in my purse and looking around for a second before sliding out of my seat. I knelt in the empty spot where my feet had been and just leaning over the guy. I unzipped him and reached in, finding his cock damp with sweat and hot, and it smelled like old stale urine. But that didn't matter, did it? I wasn't going to marry the guy, I told myself, I was just going to suck him off.

He had a pale cock and a nice sized one, I supposed, fairly thick too once I got my lips around him. My mouth was dry at first, like old cotton, and I had to work to get up some spit, but he didn't mind helping. His cock started leaking precum like crazy, tasteless and a bit sticky maybe, but I barely noticed. Giving head wasn't exactly my thing, but I knew how to do it. My husband had always liked it when I went down on him and I'd even let him cum in my mouth once in awhile. I wondered if this guy was going to want that and I figured he probably would."Look at me," he breathed. "You're so fuckin' hot. Give me those eyes while you suck my dick."

I did as he told me and the man reached my head, pulling me down and I wasn't going to be able to take all of him, so it sort of annoyed me. He was forcing me and I shrugged every now and then, jerking my head to let him know I didn't like it, but he didn't care, or maybe he didn't even notice. He just kept his fingers in my hair, nodding and breathing through his nose. He stayed reasonably quiet anyway and I tried to be, except for a soft sucking sound every now and then, or a sharp little breath when I'd pull my mouth off.

Without a lot of experience and even less enthusiasm, I wasn't really good, probably, but this man wasn't complaining either. It took a long while to get him off though, much longer than I'd expected. My jaw started to ache, my tongue getting a little worn out from playing around his cock. After ten minutes or so, I ended up mostly sucking the head, just nursing on the last few inches and using my hands to jerk him off and play with his balls.

He finally gave a soft grunt and lifted his ass, pulling my mouth down hard when he started cumming and I choked on it, coughing as his warm, greasy sperm filled my mouth. I didn't have much choice but to swallow the stuff. I pushed against his thighs with my hands, but he had me down and the guy wasn't letting me up until he'd finished dumping his load down my throat.

I was red faced and breathless by the time he'd finished cumming and I'd swallowed most of it, but a lot had leaked down the shaft too.

"Clean it up," he whispered and I might have argued, but I felt subdued, or resigned might be a better word.

I didn't argue, I just licked around his cockhead and along the shaft, gathering his milky semen on my tongue and pulling it into my mouth. It seemed kind of sick, disgusting really, now that he'd cum and it should have been over. I had to close my eyes as my tummy churned around the salty man cream I'd eaten. I could taste and feel his semen still in my throat, clinging there like old phlegm and I burped a little, tasting his cock on my breath.

"Thanks." The guy grinned at me, rubbing my head like a dog. "You're a good little cocksucker."

He left me there and I retched in reply, but just for a second and I got a water bottle out, taking a mouthful and swishing it around. There wasn't anyplace to spit it out though, so I just swallowed that too.

"Twenty, right?" Another guy sat down within two minutes of the first man leaving. I hadn't even gotten off my knees really and I just blinked at him.

"Yeah." I nodded.

"Here..." He smiled at me and seemed utterly indistinguishable from the man I'd just sucked, plain and middle aged and boring.

I took his twenty and he got his cock out for me, a little bigger than the last guy and I figured they must be traveling together. A couple salesmen or something, I had no clue. It didn't matter anyway, he paid me and I was going to suck him.

It wasn't as bad the second time, but worse in some ways too. I'd gotten used to the flavor by then, even though the two men tasted slightly different from each other. I was used to having a cock in my mouth too, but I wasn't used to working those little muscles and I tired quickly. That surprised me, I mean you wouldn't think giving a guy a blow job would wear you out, but it does if you haven't done it a whole lot.

Like his friend though, this guy didn't really care so long as he got to shoot off in my mouth. I think that was his thing, both of them, and probably their wives weren't into it or something. I knew my husband got excited when I let him cum in my mouth because mostly I just sucked until he got close and then jerked him off on my tits. I couldn't do that on the bus though, these guys were paying for the full ride, and for the second time in half an hour I found myself choking down a stranger's spermy load.

"How much for a fuck?" he asked me as I washed his cock clean with my tongue. He hadn't even asked me to do it.

"Fifty," I said, licking my lips and tasting cum.

"In your ass?" he suggested with a smile.

"Uh..." I narrowed my eyes. "I've never done that."

"Here..." He'd already reached for his back pocket, pulling out his wallet.

"No, I don't think so," I decided, shaking my head.

"Come on ... I got it right here." He pulled out a fifty that looked like it had been through a washing machine.

"Ummm..." I took a breath. "No. Not in my ass."

"How much then?" he whispered, and we were both whispering as I pushed myself up to sit next to him.

I had to think about that. Did I really want to sell my ass? That would hurt for one thing, and how would I clean myself up after? My pussy had been messy enough after Pete had finished inside me, but back there? I knew guys liked that sort of thing, but I couldn't imagine why. How much was my asshole worth? And then I wondered, what the hell is wrong with me? Sitting on a bus, negotiating with some stranger about fucking me in the ass? There seemed to be something very wrong with that and I didn't feel too good about myself suddenly.

"I'm not interested," I told the guy, folding my arms over my breasts and pressing myself against the window. I didn't even want to touch him accidentally.

"Come on. Don't play hard to get." He smiled, reaching for my leg and petting me. "Sixty bucks ... It's all I've got, easy money."

I stared at the guy's hand, feeling his sweaty palm on my bare thigh, moving back and forth and sticking my flushed skin. He looked like an animal to me then, not a man at all, and I wondered what that made me. I was getting depressed, I knew, lonely and unhappy and I wasn't stupid, but self-destructive maybe. I wanted to be punished and so that's as good a reason as any for why I agreed, just to hurt myself by doing the unthinkable, by letting this stranger fuck my ass on a bus.

"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath and wondering how I'd ever look at myself in the mirror afterwards. But that wasn't my problem, that was in the future, some other Gina would have to deal with it. The here and now me just wanted to feel bad.

"Just get up. On the seat, nobody's going to see..." the guy said and I thought he must have been dreaming.

I did it though, keeping my right foot on the floor and kneeling with my left leg on the seat, keeping my head down low so the driver wouldn't see me in his mirror, or anyone who decided to turn around. The guy's prick had grown hard again, but he hadn't gone very soft anyway after he'd cum in my mouth. He turned in his seat, taking a position much like mine, except he couldn't get so low. We were gonna get caught, I was sure of it, he couldn't be serious.