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By *am1e31 OP Man
5 days ago
Westgate |
The day was an agonising crawl, as they had been for the last week. I couldn't focus on emails or spreadsheets, just being in the sheets with this handsome, rugged, mystery man; all I could feel was the phantom heat of his thigh against my palm and the memory of that heavy, stifling silence in the bus. I had tipped the scales, and the anticipation of his reaction made my skin feel too tight for my body.
When I reached the stop, I wasn't just cold; I was trembling with a cocktail of nerves and pure, unadulterated lust. The bus appeared through the gloom, its headlights cutting a path toward me. As the doors hissed open, the air inside felt thicker, warmer, and heavy with the scent of him.
He didn't say a word as I stepped on today, he didn't even offer the usual "Evening." He just stared, his blue eyes dark, pupils blown wide, tracking my every movement as I tapped my bus pass. I didn't retreat to the middle tonight. I took the seat directly behind his cabin, close enough to hear his roughened breathing.
The bus was nearly empty to begin with, and the few stragglers evaporated at the first three stops. As the last person stepped off into the night, the atmosphere shifted instantly.
As we progressed down the dark country lanes, the anticipation of when he was going to pull over was unbearable. It wasn’t a question of IF now. Just WHEN. The moment the doors clicked shut, he drove for what felt like forever. In reality, it couldn’t have been more than 2 stops before pulling into a darkened lay-by, where he promptly cutting the engine with a heavy, final shudder.
The silence was deafening.
"Get over here," he growled, not turning around. It wasn't a request.
I stood up, my pulse thundering in my throat, and stepped into the well of the cab. Before I could even speak, he opened his partition door, reached out, his large, calloused hand wrapping firmly around the back of my neck, pulling me down toward him.
"You think you can just walk away after last night?" he murmured against my lips, his breath hot and smelling of mint and coffee. "You have no idea how much sleep I lost because of those fingers of yours." “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about” I said, with what felt like a subtle smirk but was most definitely a big, cheeky, smile.
He pulled me into a kiss that was less of an introduction and more of a reclamation, hard, hungry, and animalistic. His stubble burned against my skin, a delicious friction that made me moan into his mouth. My hands found his shoulders, feeling the sheer breadth of him. I’d spent hours staring at this man, at least as best as I could without being caught, but had no real understanding of just how broad he was. The solid muscle of a man who worked with his hands.
He shifted, his driving seat creaking under his weight, and guided me down between his legs. I obliged and dropped to my knees on the floor of the bus, the ribbed rubber matting biting into my shins, but I didn't care. I was exactly where I’d wanted to be for weeks.
His hands stayed in my hair, gripping tight as I fumbled with the heavy buckle of his belt. My fingers were shaking, the metal cold against my skin, but then I felt the heat radiating through his trousers, a massive, pulsing weight. When I finally cleared the buttons and pulled the fabric down, he let out a low, guttural sound that vibrated through my chest. I could tell that he was putty in my hands, but my god did I want him to take control of me. Be patient I thought, I can’t have everything all at once, regardless of how much I ache for it.
He was magnificent. Thick, heavy, and throbbing, he seemed to strain toward me in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. I didn't hesitate. I leaned forward, letting my tongue trace the length of him, tasting the salt of his skin. He bucked slightly in the seat, his fingers tightening in my hair, his breath now in a jagged rhythm.
My lips slowly wrapped round the head of his rock hard cock at a glacial pace. I was desperate to feel him in my mouth, but also desperate to make him ache for the feeling of my mouth and throat. This moment was exquisite torture.
"God, you're... you're going to be the death of me," he moaned, his head falling back against the headrest, eyes closed in a mask of pure concentration as I took him into my mouth.
The world outside the bus ceased to exist. There were no country lanes, no schedules, no garage waiting to fix my car. There was only the rhythmic slide of my lips, the low, rhythmic moans vibrating from his throat, and the frantic, electric heat of two people finally acting on a weeks-long obsession.
Every time I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock, he let out a ragged "Yes, right there," his hips beginning to roll in a slow, desperate search for friction. I used my hands to stroke the base of him, feeling the veins standing out like cords, while my mouth worked to drive him over the edge.
As I slowly pressed the tip of his delicious cock to the back of my throat, gently applying more and more pressure to widen my throat to take as much of this man as I could, he reached down, his hands finding my face, guiding me with a sudden, urgent intensity. "Wait, wait..." he gasped, his body tensing, every muscle in those thick forearms jumping. "I'm not... I'm not going to last if you keep doing that."
I looked up at him, my eyes glassy from the sheer size of him, a stray drop of pre-cum glistening on my lip and slowly got off my knees. Taking him in my hand, but keen to avoid him causing a mess everywhere, I tentatively caressed his thick shaft, gave him a slow, wicked smile - the same one that had started this fire the night before.
"Oh you poor thing" I whisper sarcastically, trying to avoid getting lost in his eyes. “What do you suggest we do now then?”
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