On the bus
When I was in high school, a few years back, in the tiny West Texas town where I lived, I played basketball for the girl’s team. I was on the varsity team–probably because Coach wanted to give some of the better players more playing time on the JV. I didn’t play much. I was practically invisible, which I guess was why I got left behind after this one away game.
I didn’t even have my street clothes to change into. I found out later somebody had grabbed my duffel and loaded it up with the rest of the gear on the girl’s bus. None of the parents had come, because the school we were playing was so far away. I was almost crying when I found the boy’s coach and told him what happened. Of course, he told me not to worry. I’d get home just fine. I could ride home with the boy’s team.
After the game–the guys won–I had to run out through the cold in my basketball uniform to get on the bus. It wasn’t much warmer there, but one of the boys–a senior I knew from drama class–gave me his letter jacket. Then he sat down beside me in one of the seats in the back of the bus.
It was two and a half hours home across the West Texas plains. It was late, I was tired, so when Chris put his arm around me, I leaned my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I don’t know how much later it was when I realized his fingers were stroking back and forth across my breast, across my nipple, which was standing up hard. It felt nice. Real nice, so I pretended I didn’t notice, just sorta snuggled into his shoulder.
He kissed my forehead and whispered my name. “Cissy? Are you awake?”
I didn’t think I should be, because then, I’d have to make him stop, and I didn’t want to. I mean, he was a senior, and I was a junior–though I was 18 already, a year older than my class because I got held back in third grade. And he was cool and I wasn’t. Just a not-very-good basketball player on varsity so the coach would have at least one sub for every starter. Our school was only 1-A. Less than 200 students in the whole high school, so everybody got to participate.
Chris let his hand dip lower, cupping my breast. When I didn’t move, he slid it inside my uniform shirt, and after a minute, inside my bra, where he rubbed his fingers back and forth across my nipple. I couldn’t help squirming a little bit, it felt so good.
He was breathing kind of hard, his mouth against my forehead. I’d kissed a couple of guys, but hadn’t done much in the way of heavy necking, so this was all pretty new to me. I was having trouble controlling my breathing too.
“Cissy?” Chris whispered my name again, like he was worried I might be waking up. He never stopped fingering my nipple though.
Moving real slow, like he wanted to be careful not to wake me, Chris put his other hand over one of mine in my lap. He picked it up and moved it to his lap. After a minute, when I kept still, he turned my hand over and curled it around this big stick in the front of his pants. Yeah, it was his cock–the first time I’d ever touched one. He pressed my hand hard against it and moved it up and down a little, then he let go of me. I relaxed my hand some, so it would seem like I was still asleep, but I left it there.
Chris shifted position, lying back against the window in the corner of the seat, bringing me with him so I lay over him a little. I could feel him wiggling around, then his hand bumped mine and I realized he was unzipping his pants. I wondered if I should “wake up,” but I wondered even more what would happen next. I could wake up any time.
He picked up my hand again and wrapped it around his hot, naked dick, his hand wrapped around mine, and he started to move my hand up and down his dick. My thumb overlapped my fingers a little as I held him, and only the very tip of his cock stuck out past it. He wasn’t much bigger than my hand, but it felt hot and hard, and exciting to hold it.
(Excerpt word count: 763, Total word count: 5,236)