I was fingering her in the back seat of the bus when she told me to fuck her.
We had kissed exactly twice before then, and both times were brief and nearly chaste. A brush of the lips more than a passion play.
But there we were, on our way home from the last day of school, my hand up the leg of her tiny shorts, and her mouth on my ear. I didn’t stop when she said it, and the truth is I didn’t believe her. Maybe it was my hearing I doubted or possibly a million other possibilities that all fell in on me at once.
“I’m serious,” she said, finally managing to hold my hand still. I looked into her eyes to discover an entirely new expression that I had never seen before. She did want to fuck me. Desperately.
“Right here?” I asked, wondering how long before her stop. Wondering if the bus driver would stop and throw us off. Wondering if my first time shouldn’t be somehow different.
“Yeah,” she said, looking around us as she pushed her shorts down around her knees. “Right here.”
I must have fumbled or mumbled or otherwise made my cluelessness clear because before I could ask her again her mouth was on my cock and I was so hard it hurt. All I could do was bite my lip as I looked down at her half naked body, her bare ass on the seat followed by long legs ending in purple Converse Allstars. When I grabbed her, she looked up at me with a smile.
“Are you ready?” She asked, standing up and pretending to stretch. With the seat between her and the rest of the bus, I was the only one with that perfect view of her ass. Well, me and the car driving behind us.
Nevertheless, I slid in behind and grabbed her hips trying not to come. She stretched again, one hand up and the other down. Her hand was on me and before I could convince myself that it was finally happening she lowered herself onto me, wiggling and shoving until somehow I entered her in spite of the initial resistance.
Before I had time to decide if I should be the one to lift her up or if she would do it on her own, the bus hit a bump and it was done. Up and down she went, and then we were fucking on the goddamn bus, and there was no going back.
“I like your cock,” she said, turning to smile at me. “We should have done this sooner.”
“It’s my first time,” I blurted out.
“Oh fuck,” she moaned, turning back towards the front of the bus as she pushed down until I was entirely inside her. One hand snaked between her legs and then for what felt like an eternity she raised herself up and down no more than an inch at a time. So slowly it was painful she rubbed her clit as she clenched around me until she began to moan loudly enough to cause at least one of our classmates to turn and stare at her.
“I’m coming,” she whispered, her head now resting on the seat in front of us. “Oh fuck, I’m coming.”
And then the car behind us started honking as some college kid leaned out the window and yelled at us. The guy on the bus sat up higher to get a better glimpse and between the noise, the moans, her tightening cunt, her probing fingers, the bumpy road, and the fact that I had masturbated to just that same scene a thousand times, I started to come as well.
When she finally regained her breath, she was still on top of me even though I was growing soft. I couldn’t look away from her bare ass, and I realized with an odd sense of regret that I had still never even felt her up.
“You ready?” She asked, turning to kiss me. All I could do was nod since I had no fucking clue what she meant. She stood up, tugged up her shorts with a giggle, and then turned to sit back down on my lap as I somehow managed to get myself back in my pants.
And then with another kiss and a laugh she sat up and raised two middle fingers to the assholes driving behind us.
It felt like only seconds before we came to her stop, and even though I promised to last longer the next time she refused to go home with me. I watched her ass in her tight shorts the whole way up the length of the bus, and then she was gone.
Twenty minutes later when I made my pilgrimage to the front of the bus, the last kid left from a trip none of us would ever take again, the driver stopped me at the white line.
“Hey,” he said, grabbing my arm.
“Yeah?” I mumbled, wondering if I was as red as I felt.
“Glad you finally hit that,” he laughed, before swinging the door open. “Have a good summer, kid.”
I ran down the steps and out into the hot summer afternoon, eager to leave him and everything else behind. Taking a deep breath, I brought my fingers to my mouth and tasted her, the memory of her bouncing up and down to the rhythm of the bus lingering in my imagination.
“I guess that’s what all the fuss is about,” I mumbled to myself. And then I smiled as I began the short walk home because while the entire experience was a messy blur of half desires and tiny regrets, it was summer and I could still smell her.
And what could be better?