He took my dick's load on the bus, slid a finger in my ass, and walked off like nothing happened

(All characters are 18+)

Didn’t plan to suck a stranger’s dick on the GoBus to Columbus. But an hour later I had his cock in my mouth, his foreskin sliding back with every stroke, and my cum dripping down his throat, with one of his fingers deep in my ass as the highway blurred past the window.

We met in silence. Late night. Athens. Light rain and an almost-empty Route 55. I slid into the back row to disappear. He stepped on two stops later, walked past every empty seat, and sat beside me like we already knew each other. Close enough that our legs touched.

He didn’t say a word. Just let his thigh lean into mine. His body gave off the clean, musky smell of sweat dried into cotton. I told myself it didn’t mean anything, that it was the sway of the bus. But when his fingers brushed my leg, paused, and then returned, slow and deliberate, I didn’t pull away.

I should’ve stopped him. Should’ve moved, said something, anything. But I didn’t. I wanted to see how far he’d go.

His hand slid up to my crotch, found the bulge in my jeans, and pressed. I twitched. He undid my zipper and reached in without hesitation. My cock was already heavy and twitching, aching to be touched. When he gripped it, I exhaled, low and sharp. Then he leaned over and took me into his mouth like he’d done it a hundred times before.

His lips wrapped tight around the head, tongue circling as he sucked me deeper. The sound of him, wet, eager, determined, filled the narrow space behind the seats. I spread my legs, fingers digging into the edge of the seat, fighting to keep quiet.

Then I saw what he was doing. He’d pulled out his own dick. It was thick and long, uncut, with the foreskin hugging the tip even when fully hard. He stroked it slow, the skin gliding back to reveal a flushed, dripping head before vanishing under his grip again. His cock looked slick and warm, and with every motion, more pre-cum shimmered along his knuckles.

The rhythm between his mouth and his hand built fast. His throat took me deeper while his fist pumped his own cock in steady time. The scent of him hit me, clean sweat, precum, and something male and raw. It made my mouth water.

The driver glanced at the mirror now and then, but we were hidden. We were ghosts in the back row. And still, my heart beat like it could explode.

He moaned softly around my shaft, and the vibration set off a twitch in my legs. My abs clenched. My balls pulled tight. I was right at the edge.

Then he stopped stroking himself. I opened my eyes just as he moved his hand off his cock and slid it under me. His fingers found the curve of my ass, then dipped lower. I didn’t have time to brace before he pushed one finger inside.

I gasped. It was the first time anyone had done that. Even I hadn’t dared go there. But the way he moved, like he knew exactly where to touch, like my body was something he’d read, sent shockwaves through me. His finger curled and stroked, slow and deep, dragging a moan out of my chest I didn’t mean to make.

The finger in my ass, the suction on my cock, the rumble of the bus beneath us. I wasn’t ready for what it did to me.

I came hard. My thighs shook, toes curling in my shoes, cum flooding his throat in deep, pulsing spurts. He didn’t pull away. He took every drop. Swallowed like it was nothing. He sucked gently for another few seconds, then let me slip out, sticky and soft, and zipped me up without a word.

I was dazed, skin burning, nerves still live-wired. His cock was still out, still hard, but he tucked it back in his sweats without finishing himself. No words. Just silence.

A few minutes later, he stood up at Canal Winchester and walked off the bus. As he turned, I caught a glimpse of a damp, dark patch on the front of his pants. He never came. Or maybe he did, quietly, with his finger still inside me.

I didn’t move. My ass still tingled. My underwear clung damp to my skin. My mouth felt dry, like I’d been breathing fire.

I don’t know his name. I never will.

But I still think about his fist. His foreskin. The way he touched me in a place no one ever had. Like I’d already said yes, even though I hadn’t said a thing. And how I let it happen like I’d been waiting for it all along.