His shaft was long and ridged with veins. It was long and thin enough to pass my tonsils and slide down my esophagus, so I easily deep throated him. He placed both hands on the nape of my neck and forced my head up and down his long, slender shaft, my gag reflex rebelling at each forceful shove. I controlled it and steadied my motion by bracing on his hairy ass, keeping my fingers well away from his crack. Clearly, this character liked to be in control.
And controlled he was, ramming my face so hard and long that I began to pay attention to the public address announcements for fear of missing my bus. Too speed things up, I slipped one of my hands up between his legs and began massaging his blood-engorged balls. He moaned and began pulsing faster, and then the motion became jerky and more random and his load filled my mouth. And a huge load it was: I had to swallow three gulps to get it all down and keep my sweatshirt clean. When he was done, he tilted my face upward, as if to study it. Then, he spat in my face, slapped me and wordlessly opened the door and left.
I was alone, wet kneed on the filthy toilet floor, spit mixed with tears of humiliation dripping down my flushed and stinging cheeks. Then, I heard my bus announced. I grabbed my Raybans and bag, pulled myself to my feet, rinsed my hands and faced and hurriedly gargled with the cold water of the stained and paper towel-stuffed sink. I ran off to my bus and jumped aboard just as the doors were about to close. God, I thought, if this is the real world, it’s even worse than high school! I noted with relief that greasy beard was not a passenger on my bus.
I found a window seat next to a Mexican woman and tried to compose myself. What rotten luck I had. When I dress as a boy, my effeminate good lucks attracted the worst weirdoes of this world. I didn’t have the I.D., or the nerve, to pass full time as a girl. I felt trapped and helpless. Fortunately, this bus was filled with modest working folk returning to their families or heading off to factories or fields. I found their ordinariness comforting. None of them would take an interest in me, I hoped.
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