Buspass by Donald Ammer

Just try and catch a Houston city bus on time, especially when you have a connection to make.

My new job was just like that – two buses, one connection … and a grand total of four minutes in between the two, provided the first bus was even on schedule.

The Friday of my first week on my new job, I jumped off the #163 bus downtown and hustled my ass one block up and over to catch the #36 heading southeast. It was early, around 6AM, and wouldn’t you know that when I cut through the Hyatt hotel - there it was, another half-block down on Smith and Dallas, just pulling away.

Five minutes of cussing and I was over it. Another ten minutes, and the next 36 arrived. The heavyset lady driver greeted me with one of those it’s-too-early-to-be-civil frowns, not exactly enhancing my already cranky mood.

It was going to take another half-hour to get to the job, so I grumpily pulled the latest Dean Koontz novel out of my bad, now worried about being late. The bus pulled away from the curb with a jerk, beginning its usual bizarre twist-turn route out to Lawndale Street.

Damn, was I sleepy. I’d read page 74 of my book three times before realizing I still didn’t know what the hell it said. Putting Koontz away, I glanced up and caught my reflection in the bus window across from me.

My 28th birthday had come and gone two weeks ago. I still looked very much like the actor Ryan Phillippe, which had gotten me a lot of play all through high school and college – short blonde curly hair, blue eyes, boyish face, a swimmer’s physique – but now I was a more mature , “sophisticated” (read: older) Ryan; generally speaking, a more grown up version of the young actor.

This morning was a different story, however. In my reflection in the bus window, I saw a tired guy whose eyes were half-closed, hair a bit more mussed than usual. I patted down a particularly bumpy mass of curls toward the back, staring at myself in the window as I made a not to get a haircut that weekend. Some sleep wouldn’t hurt, either, as I hadn’t gotten too much of that since turning 28.

Nor had I gotten much of anything else, either. It had, in fact, been nearly six months since I’d had anything resembling sex with anyone other than my tired right hand, and I had been horny beyond belief for a week running now. Looking back, maybe that’s why things happened the way they did that morning …

When we approached the Magnolia Transit Center, I checked my watch and was glad to see that this #36 bus was only about 10 minutes behind the one I normally took; good, I wouldn’t be late for work. We were maybe another 7 minutes to my job on Lawndale.

Swerving around to its pick-up point on the opposite side of the terminal, the Metro bus pulled groggily to a stop. The doors folded open with a slow hiss, and a chubby Hispanic lady of about sixty got on, wearing a gray dress that draped on her like a tent below a drawstring cord tied in a bow just under her ample cleavage. She had massive curls of gray hair loosely pinned up in all directions on her head, and a mad gleam in her eye that made her appear like some sort of a crazy fortune teller.

Yet, with all that to look at, it was the guy with the bookbag, who got on the bus after her, that made my jaw drop open.

Maybe about 19 or 20 years old, he had the silky-clear complexion of a baby – or a guy who’d never had a zit in his life. Really, I had never seen such smooth skin on a man before; 90% of all women would have killed for such perfection. He had the big brown eyes of a Disney character, and big brown hair that was straight and very dark brown - styled like Clark Kent on a good day – and a slightly olive-toned complexion to that flawless skin that hinted at his Hispanic/biracial heritage. His smile to the grumpy bus driver revealed a wide mouth of the whitest, most perfect teeth I’d ever seen, and full, pink lips just made for tasting.

But, oddly enough, it was his nose that had caught my attention first. Just a tad too long, and a tad too wide at the end, it threw the rest of his perfect features off, just left-of-center enough to give his face character … the sexiness of a little, innocent barrio boy you just wanted to take home and make not so innocent anymore.

Drop-dead sexy.

He wore faded jeans and a beige turtleneck and generic black sneakers with Velcro straps instead of laces to keep them on. He was thin but not skinny, maybe about 5’6”, with a strong jawline and pronounced cheekbones and thick eyebrows … all of which set off those coffee-colored eyes

Lord, was he beautiful. I wanted to kiss his nose, then that sensual mouth, and work my way down from there. He paid his bus fare using a monthly pass, then turned and walked over to sit down across from me, saying, “Good morning” with that toothpaste-ad smile at full wattage when he saw me looking at him.

My dick went sproing! at the sound of his voice in my black dress slacks, at full attention, and I was hooked. I had to have him.

“What’s up?” I asked, glancing discreetly around. There were maybe ten people total on our 36 bus, most of them not within ear shot. “You heading to work?”

He shook his head. “School.” His voice was soft, but not at all effeminate. Very sensual.

I asked where he went to school and he named a well-known college here in Houston.

“Freshman?” I asked, thanking God that the kid was at least legal..

“Junior,” was his reply. Damnit, he just kept smiling! Not in a come-on sort of way, either, it was like that was just his nature; he was just a happy person. Good God, was he adorable!

Before I could think of anything else to say, though, he pulled a car magazine out of his bookbag and had started to read, head bowed.

Man, was his hair thick. Thick, and the same dark chocolate as his eyes. I wanted to reach over and run my hands through that hair, right there on the bus. My dick, still yawning inside my slacks, was stretching my cotton briefs uncomfortably and very close to being fully awake now … straining against the backpack I held in my own lap.

“I’m Nick,” I said, because damnit I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

He looked up from his magazine, eyes curious. He was still smiling; had been, even while reading the magazine. Guess it was natural – and on some people, it would have been annoying. On him it was wholesome; sweet.

“Alberto,” he replied.

“Nice to meet you.” He was about to go back to his magazine when I shifted my backpack slightly off my lap – just enough for him to see my granite-hard erection screaming for release from my slacks as Alberto had started to look away.

Those huge, fudge-dark eyes stopped dead on my crotch, frozen for just a second before they slowly rolled back up to meet my steady gaze. They lingered there for just a second, as he unending smile wavered … then took hold again. Only this time, his lips parted slightly to reveal the top of a bright pink tongue that lingered a second between his teeth. Then he bit on his lower lip, thinking for a second, before turning that smile back on at full power again, lower lip still tucked under his top row of teeth in a shy smile.

Twenty-eight or not, I packed close to nine inches of hose between my legs, when hard. It had always been an attention-getter.

“Great meeting you, too,” Alberto replied, shy smile in place but now a carnivorous gleam in those baby-doe eyes.

For my part, I was about to have a stroke from the excitement; this kind of shit never happened to me in public; usually I’m way too shy – at first – to act on any lust. Now I had done so – boldly – and it was being socked right back at me by this hot little Hispanic college boy!

Man, it was enough to make a horndog’s head spin, being eyed like an all-you-can-eat-buffet by a hottie like him!

Glancing out the bus window behind me (we each sat on either of the side seats of the bus, facing each other), Alberto suddenly reached up and pulled the cord for the next stop. As the bus ground to a halt about two stops before my own, Alberto replaced the car magazine back into his bookbag, and rose.

“I don’t have to be at school until ten,” was all he said, his smile innocent. With that, he turned and head toward the front of the bus to exit.

We were nowhere near his college campus; Alberto evidently had something else in mind. My problem was, I had to be at work in fifteen minutes … and it was my first week on the job. Plus, could Alberto be trusted? I didn’t even know the guy, after all …

But then my eyes caught a peek of his small, firm little rounded ass in those faded, tight-fitting jeans as he stepped off the bus – and my hard-on cried, “Feed me!” like that damned plant in Little Shop of Horrors.

I rushed to follow that sizzling ass, just as the driver was closing the front exit doors.


We walked for close to ten minutes, down some side street off of Lawndale that I didn’t know – past businesses with their names printed in Spanish, and the occasional rundown home turned into an office or store. The sun, up less than an hour, left the sky a whitish-gray, the blue not yet taking hold. Alberto kept glancing back at me as I walked a step or two behind him, his smile and that juicy ass keeping me hard and ready. I felt like a pitbull stalking some little bitch-poodle in heat.

We came to a particularly rundown white stucco convenience store on a corner. The sign above it read “Velasco’s,” and it was obviously closed; a metal gate locked over the entrance was a dead giveaway there. It was just as well, for me, because the place looked old and smelled funny as we approached it – like a musty attic.

But Alberto was rummaging in his bookbag, and at the door produced a huge set of keys – one of which he used to open the gate.

“It’s my uncle’s store,” he explained. “I work here on weekends.”

Another key, and the tumblers clicked on the door inside. It was all glass and metal, and covered in signs – ads for cigarettes and Corona and Big Red gum – so that you couldn’t see inside the store. Alberto held it open for me, and after I passed in he closed and double-locked the front door behind us.

‘Wow,” I said. Looking around, I meant it, too, because inside the store was immaculate – shelves dusted and fully-stocked with colorful items, floors a white tile with a few hairline fractures, but obviously freshly mopped … you could smell the Pine Sol in the air. When Alberto hit a light switch near the counter close to our left, white fluorescents lit up every corner of the store. It was older, smaller, but maintained with pride – every inch of space possible stacked with merchandise.

I was admiring the store when a pair of thin but muscular arms slid around my waist. A kiss planted itself on my shoulder, through the denim shirt I’d worn for Casual Friday at work, as Alberto nuzzled himself into my back.

I turned and hugged him to me, my open mouth lowering to meet his. Funny, how on the bus all I’d thought about was fucking this kid. Now, all I wanted to do was kiss him … get inside him. When his warm, wet pink tongue slithered like a snake into my mouth, I wrapped one of his little asscheeeks in each of my hands and responded, pulling his crotch into mine as I squeezed his firm little ass. Well, damn! He was hard, too … and when his erection rubbed up against mine, I felt the first bubble-trail of pre-cum ooze deliciously from my straining cock, staining my white cotton briefs and black slacks – the latter of which Alberto was suddenly unzipping with extremely talented hands.

We stood there, making out like kids just inside the store’s entrance, and I felt the cool air conditioning caress my bare legs as my pants slid to the floor. The bags each of us carried slid off our shoulders simultaneously, hitting the floor with twin thuds as I reached for the clasp on Alberto’s jeans … just as both of his eager young hands slid under the waistband of my white BVDs.

“Mmmmph!” It was all I gurgle out, my mouth still clamped to his, as Alberto’s long, slim and strong fingers wrapped themselves around the shaft of my engorged prick, beginning to stroke me. We kept kissing as he played with my cock, edging me – stroking and stopping, stroking and stopping – building me closer and close to one hell of an orgasm, in the most deliciously evil way.

His jeans came open with equal ease, and as we continued feasting on each other’s mouths – slurping and suckling the way long-term lovers do – I managed to yank Alberto’s own pants and boxers down to his knees in one smooth motion.

His cock was the same medium-brown tone as the rest of his body, covered in a juicy layer of foreskin as it rose upward like a comma from a mass of tight black pubic hair. About 7-8 inches in length itself, it swung rigid and upright above smallish nuts covered lightly in a dark fuzz of hair. Just peeking out of its foreskin-covered nest, the head of Alberto’s cock was fat and a shade lighter in tone … though the pre-cum it leaked was a shimmering, cloudy white.

I broke our manic make-out session long enough to yank the beige turtleneck up and over Alberto’s head, as he stepped out of his jeans, black boxers, and Payless tennis shoes. This sexy Hispanic college boy stood naked before me now thin and smooth and with just enough muscle tone in his arms and torso to give him that sexy masculinity of a boy just growing into his man’s body.

I glanced up and into his eyes – he was still smiling, but now it was a smile of animalistic lust that included the occasional licking of his lips. I stepped out of my own clothes, unbuttoning my blue denim dress shirt and throwing it aside, but as Alberto reached for my face again I sidestepped his greedy hands. Instead, I dropped to my knees, right hand wrapping around the thick shaft of his impossibly-hard uncut cock, and sucked the head of his dick deep into my lips before Alberto had a chance to stop me.

“Ohhhh … ” Alberto moaned low, deep, and a slow, very wet hiss slid out from between his clenched teeth as my lips slurped his hard-on deeper down my throat. His strong fingers dove into the thick blond curls on my head, hanging on tight as I withdrew in a slow arc, sucking deep on that upward-curved dick – then dove in again, my throat like a hyperactive vacuum cleaner, taking him down to the balls.

Alberto gasped, crying out, and doubled over until he was lying on top of my head, his hands gripping my hair like a vice. He held me there a few seconds, my face buried in his crotch as the musky scent of his sex filled my nostrils. When my gag reflex started to kick in – from, after all, having nearly eight inches of extra-thick cock jammed partway down my throat – I pulled off Alberto and began to give him the most enthusiastic head I’d ever performed on a man, sucking so hard my cheeks hurt. My hands clamped onto his ass at the same time, spreading his cheeks, and when the middle finger on my right hand slid – just barely – inside his tight, moist-with-sweat asshole … I was sure the kid was going to die on me.

“F – f – fuck!” Still doubled over on top of my head, his grip tightened in my hair, actually in pain as he gasped and grunted – loudly – when my finger barely entered his tight little hole. His whole body began to shake – a soft rumble at first that built quickly in strength and crescendo – and as I kept blowing that big, hard prick of his, Alberto started to … wobble.

“Oh, my God – fuck – Nick, I – I have to sit down,” he said, voice hoarse. “I – I – I can’t take it anymore … ”

I let his cock pop from my mouth, where it slapped hard up against his belly upon release. The head had finally decided to come out its hiding place, and stood now drizzling pre-jizz at the top of his impressive pole – which was slick with my spit and almost standing straight up against Alberto’s belly on its own. As I got to my feet he leaned heavily against me, still shaking; you’d think he’d never gotten good head before! I wrapped my arm around him …

Then slid one arm under his knees, and picked him up in my arms. A little whoosh of excitement and surprise erupted from my college boy-toy as he folded himself into me and grabbed my face to kiss me again. About four inches shorter than my 5’10”, he fit perfectly in my arms. I walked him over to the main counter, which was topped in cheap brown vinyl and about waist-high in height, and sat him down gently on its scarred but clean surface – taking care not to knock over the astrology scrolls and racks of breath mints pressed up against the register. Swapping one last, wet kiss, I told Alberto to hang a minute while I padded across the store naked, back to my backpack where it had landed on the store floor.

I had lube in my bag from a jack-off session I’d done in my office my first day at work – had to “baptize” the place, after all – but had no condoms. Walking nude through the store and praying there were no cameras recording this, I found a 3-pack of Trojans on a rack in aisle four, then hurried back to Alberto … who still sat, hard and waiting, on the countertop of his uncle’s convenience store.

“What were you – ” he started to ask, but then spied the condom and lube clutched in my hand. “Oh. Oh shit, Nick, I don’t know if I’m ready … ”

“Lie back. Lie back, and spread your legs,” I told him, gently pushing on his chest. He did as he was told, and I pulled off his white athletic socks, French-kissing each of his sexy little brown toes as he gasped at each lick. When I raised his legs, pushing his feet as far into the air as they would go as he knees pressed into his chest, Alberto was too overcome with lust to resist, his eyes squeezing shut as he thrashed his head on the counter. I tore open a condom, rolling it onto my throbbing cock as Alberto grabbed hold of his own knees from underneath, raising his legs higher for me. Grabbing his hips, I pulled my sexy young Hispanic student toward me until his ass had lined up with my edge of the countertop.

That was when I bent down, licking my lips, and spread his cheeks wide with my hands … just before forcing my tongue deep into his sweet-tasting ass.

“Oh GOD!” Alberto jumped, hands clutching the underside of his raised knees until the knuckles of his fingers turned white. His feet flew higher into the air and I got even deeper inside his ass, my tongue slurping him out like I was a dog hungry for water on a hot summer day.

Alberto’s hands turned to claw on his legs, his smile showing again as his teeth ground together. His hairless butt smelled warm and sweet, hot and musky, and I couldn’t’ get enough of slurping him out – even as I popped open the lube with one hand and coated my cock to a glistening sheen under the store’s fluorescent lighting.

I stood, grudgingly giving up my tasting of the hot, clean Hispanic boy ass, and pressed my erection against his slimed hole. Sucking a bit on the little toes of his maybe size-8 (at the most) feet, I propped the boy’s heels onto my shoulders and pushed slightly forward, grasping my cock in one Wet-as-hell right hand. Alberto’s eyes flew open, deer caught in the headlights style, and he briefly but emphatically started shaking his head. No.

I nodded solemnly – yes – and pushed in, my fat cockhead meeting resistance at first … then sliding, oh so firmly, into that puckery sphincter with relative ease.

Alberto wasn’t smiling anymore; his face crumbled immediately into a spasm of pain – eyes squinting tightly shut, lips curled up in a snarl, head cracking back onto the hard countertop. His hands shot out, pushing at my chest, at me, to stop.

“Relax, kid,” I said. “Your hole belongs to me, now.” I gave him a little more cock, and couldn’t believe how fucking tiny his asshole felt as it wrapped around my achingly-hard prick like a fist. Alberto gasped, moaning loud as I force-fed his butthole some more rigid pipe.

He felt so good, so tight around my cock, that I thought I might shoot right there – so instead, I rammed my cock fully inside him, his balls crashing into my next of dark blonde pubic hair, and stayed buried up that hot little Hispanic asshole until his grunts of pain and moans of “Stop, please stop!” turned into little sighs of pleasure. His eyes, just like Bambi’s, opened and look up into my mine, moist with tears.

I looked down into the boyish, seemingly-innocent baby face, and it brought out the animal in me. As he continued staring at me with those sleepy, dazed brown orbs of his own, I smiled benignly but then laid down on top of him. As my tongue slid back into his hungry mouth, Alberto kissing back feverishly as before, I backed my ass up until my cock was halfway out of his stretched hole … before slamming up into him again, at full strength and full length. Alberto yelped into my mouth, nearly biting my tongue but by then I didn’t give a fuck.

There on the counter of his uncle’s mom-and-pop convenience store, I gave that little college boy the fuck of his life, hitting that ass so hard – and over and over and over again, bringing my speed and strength to levels I thought I didn’t possess – I thought I might just split him in half. Alberto must have felt the same, because even as his arms held onto me for dear life, our sweat-soaked bodies becoming one, I could still hear – feel – the grunts and moans of pleasure filling his body, erupting from his mouth into mine.

The slap-slap of my crotch smacking the hell out of his balls filled the store as I kept ramming that hot, tight hole, pounding Alberto, cramming my dick over and over into his ass until I thought I would pass out. That ass belonged to me, and I wanted him to know it for weeks afterward. I reached between out hairless bellies to take hold of his stiff, curved prick, but had barely stroked it – while still relentlessly fucking the boy – when Alberto cried out into my mouth and his cock erupted, spewing liquid streams of cumfetti up between our bodies. With each jet of semen shot, another spasm rocked Alberto’s body, and I though he would pass out before he was empty; never had I known a set of balls could hold that much jizz! On and on, his cock just blasted cum from its piss-slit like a firehose, my hand cramping as I jacked him off, my cock still pummeling his light little brown ass until – finally – it seemed Alberto’s balls were finally drained of their creamy juices. His legs relaxed, wrapping themselves further around my neck and shoulders, and through it all the kid never stopped French-kissing me.

I pulled out of his ass in one swift motion, making Alberto jump with surprise. Rubbing the fingers of my right hand into the goo squishing like a swamp between our bellies, I ripped off my condom and took that hand – covered, until it dripped, with Alberto’s spent cum – and covered my near-to-bursting cock with the kid’s jizz, coating all eight inches completely in Alberto’s fresh Hispanic cream … before forcing my dick back inside him, fucking the juicy Alberto with his own jizz as lube, plowing that ass hard as fuck, relentless on making that hole mine until I knew I was seconds from coming. Suddenly pulling out, I shoved Alberto’s legs to the side and straddled him, grabbing his hair in my sticky right hand to hold his face steady …

As, with two more quick jerks, my cum blew like a volcano into the young Hispanic boy’s face, huge streams of liquid sugar blasting onto his closed eyes and lips, on his cheeks and in the stubble on his chin … even flinging up like streamers to land in that thick, dark hair I had wanted to stroke only an hour ago. Gasping, exhausted to the point of passing out (my orgasm was that powerful) I remained kneeling over him, pumping my load all over his face and neck as Alberto simply turned his head and open his mouth … taking the last drops on his tongue before I shoved my still-hard cock down his throat, letting him enjoy the taste of our jizz mingled together as I fucked his young, thirsty mouth. When my nuts had run out of their supply, I finally let go of that beautiful hair; his head slid back to thunk on the counter, though he seemed unaware of it. And that was when I fell to lay on top of him, both our sets of legs hanging over the edge of the cheap convenience store counter as I licked and swallowed the remainder of my own jizz off his face and neck.

Cleaning him, in some ways, was the most erotic part – my tongue licking, flat and wide, all over his face, sucking his earlobes … slurping his nipples until he grabbed my face and we kissed that incredibly deep French-kissing again, both of sharing the jizz still coating my lips and tongue. By the time we broke apart, Alberto was breathing like someone in the middle of an asthma attack. I fell on top of him once more, and realized he was hard again, so after another round of kissing I fucked the kid once more – this time doggie-style, over the ice cream cooler, until his dick was frozen solid and he was screaming out my name.

We cleaned up, dressed, and were just heading out the front entrance when Alberto’s uncle arrived. Uncle Jose was damned hot, too; in his early forties but with a great build and one hell of a python between his own legs – if the bulge in his tight jeans was any indication – he cocked an eyebrow at me, but seemed to buy Alberto’s story that we’d just come by the store early to get me some Advil for a headache.

I made a mental note to come back some evening before closing, to check out Uncle Jose myself.

“You coming by with Tina for dinner tonight, yes? You didn’t forget?” Jose asked Alberto as we stood outside in the cracked concrete parking lot.

Alberto’s face blushed; he averted my gaze. “Uh … yes, of course.”

I turned to Alberto, eyebrow raised.

“Good,” Jose replied. “You have a girlfriend for two years I’ve never met, it’s about time your uncle gets to see her! Your mama says she’s beautiful.”

Alberto blushed again. “She is. Well, goodbye Uncle.”

With Alberto pulling my arm, we hurried off before Uncle Jose could say any more.

Alberto walked with me back to the bus stop, but I walked down to work instead, after the bus came to pick him up so he could get – late – to class. I wanted time to think.


When I got work at the insurance company I learned – what a surprise – that I’d been let go. They’d all been uptight assholes, anyway.

So I did what anyone in my position would do … I went back to Velasco’s for a little talk with Uncle Jose. It turned out he was newly divorced, and – though I was a guy – was not opposed to turning down some gifted head, or a tasty piece of ass. His uncut, vein-covered cock was fat as a beer can, close to ten inches long – and somehow he got it all up in my ass, fucking me on the same countertop where I’d plugged his nephew senseless earlier that very morning, after putting a “CLOSED FOR LUNCH” sign on the convenience store door. I walked out of there with a torn-up ass, a stretched mouth – and the management job he’d been looking to fill for a week … at $2 per hour more than he’d paid the guy before me.

And that’s where it stands today – six months later. All because I got gutsy on a bus. For six days a week now, my life is routine – Uncle Jose fucks my ass raw every morning before the store opens … and when he leaves for the day at five, Alberto comes in a little later, and I give that ass-pounding back to Jose’s nephew before I lock up for the day at seven. I gotta keep that smile on Alberto’s face, after all.

What a life. No one could ask for a more perfect arrangement. That is, unless … unless …


I wonder if, with just a little more guts … and maybe a touch of good, old-fashioned blackmail …

Oh, my God …

I wonder if I could finagle a three-way … the end


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