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I was boarding the bus, alone, for the first time. It was a misty, foggy day in June. I was a little nervous, I had to admit. Riding public transport alone was likely an irrational fear and I wanted to overcome it. That, and I wanted to check out the organic foods store. I had become more interested in healthy eating, as I was now an age where normally people cook for themselves.

I looked around for an empty seat, but the bus was pretty full. I ended up sitting on an aisle seat, so I could be sure I’d escape in time for my stop. It probably wasn’t so necessary, but it eased my mind a bit. Whoever was sitting next to me was falling asleep inside the hood of their swishy black jacket. I decided they should be amongst the least intimidating people to sit next to on the bus.

It was pretty silent on that bus except for a few Spanish mumbles coming from the back. I would have tried to eavesdrop, attempting to figure out what they were talking about, but they were just too quiet, and far away. I had neglected to bring a book or a music player, figuring it wasn’t too long a ride and I would keep entertained just by looking at the window. That, I did, but it was a little boring.

Of course I looked all around the bus at who was riding, out of my typical curiosity of people. There was an old woman with a rain bonnet on, carrying one of those patriotic striped laundry bags. She was staring straight in front of herself, out the window, probably lost in thought, as I was. There was this full-lipped young lady in a black uniform-type shirt with a logo I couldn’t quite read. She styled her hair in the wet look and wore hot pink hoop earrings. A black wire from headphones was visible framing her face and I wondered what she was listening to. I couldn’t hear any of it, as I was too far away.

I looked out the window as we passed a Turkish restaurant and wondered how the food would be. I didn’t plan to stop there today, though. We then passed a home improvement store I had applied to work at. I had mixed feelings about the place. The lady who had interviewed me gave off a cold, impersonal, possibly unfriendly vibe. “Vibes” aren’t always correct though. There was also the fact that most of their customers would be men. I was bound to ring up many attractive men, which might lead to flirting, which might lead to guilt. I was married, after all.

The bus stopped loudly. I heard a loud mumble next to me, and the hooded person flinched. The screeching must have woke them. Thick tan fingers reached to remove the black hood. It was a tired-looking man, maybe in his thirties, waking from his slumbers. Waking from his siesta, you might say. He fixed his short black hair a bit and his eyes darted around to quickly take in his surroundings. Did he miss his stop? He yawned, and blinking, widened his eyes for a bit.

“Donde estamos?” he asked me, assuming, as white as I was, that for some reason I knew how to speak Spanish.

“Pienso… Centerford.” I replied, noting the name of the local fire department we had passed.

“Ahh, gracias.” he replied, more calmly.

I wondered where exactly he had planned to get off, as I tried to take in the sight of him without appearing to stare at him. It must not have worked, because he turned to look me straight in the eyes as I did so. He shot me one of those polite smiles that people give, as he continued looking out at the scenery.

He had big dark eyes which reflected the light grey daylight coming in from the window next to him. His lips were full and chapped and he sucked them, to give them moisture. I think he was chewing his mustache as he did so, as it kind of needed a trim. This reminded me of my husband, and I smiled a bit.

We had reached Oakville and we were probably about half way to my destination. I still had some time to be nervous about getting off at exactly the right place. The formerly hooded man yawned and it was a low-pitched soothing kind of sound. It was getting darker outside, looking more like it would rain. The yawn proved contagious.

He glanced at me. I returned his glance, also looking down at his outfit. An unremarkable black jacket, zippered half way down, revealing maybe a white printed t-shirt. Dark wash blue jeans. Ratty black work boots. I caught him looking at mine, too. A form-fitting burgundy blouse. A plain black skirt just covering my knees. I saw a smile form for a half second at the corner of his mouth, before he resumed looking out the window.

“Por que piensas que hablo Español?” came gradually, choppily, from my English-speaking mouth. I asked why he thought I spoke Spanish, probably not perfectly.

“El papel en tus manos.” the paper in your hands, he said.

I looked down at the note I had written myself; the address of the grocery store, written on the back of a small part of a Spanish “word of the day” calendar. One side said Taste of Nature, 490 Cedarcrest Hwy, Seaview, New York. The other side had part of the word “preguntar”, which meant “to ask”. I had forgotten that the backs of my little scrap papers at home contained istanbul escort hints of my interest in the Spanish language.

“Ohhh,” I replied. He smiled and chuckled just a little.

“¿Donde vives?” he asked me where I lived.

“En Westford, ¿y tú?”

“Sunbrook.” he replied, his accent obvious with his double “o” sound.

“¿De donde eres?” I asked where he was from.

“Ecuador. Hace dos años que vivo aqui.” he replied that he’d moved from Ecuador two years ago.

“Ohhhh,” I replied, not really knowing what else to say to that.

There was a silent pause between us. I saw him looking at the note in my hands, or so I thought. Maybe he was looking at my ring. I kind of hoped he wasn’t.

“¿A donde vas?” he asked where I was going.

“Un supermercado, natural.”

“Ohh, que bueno.”

Another silent pause. A little awkward. We looked out of our window. Actually, he was looking out of the window. I was admiring the side of his face, the way his strong jaw line came into his full lips he was licking and sucking for moisture. I wanted to talk more with him, but I was nervous and was trying to translate my thoughts of what I’d say to him in Spanish.

“Puessssss..” I said nervously, barely audibly. “So…”, it meant.

“¿Como te llamas?” he asked me my name.

“Lisa, ¿y tu?”


“Encantado, José.” It was nice to meet him. I hoped I was using the right word.

“Igual. Mi esposa se llama Lisa, también.”

He revealed that he was married. I was a little disappointed. But then again, I wasn’t exactly single either, was I?

“Estas casada, Lisa?” he asked if I was married too.


“Pero, eres tan joven.” (But you’re so young.)

“Sí. ¿Entonces?” (Yeah, so?)

He then said something which I couldn’t understand, the word “matrimonio” being involved.

“Mmm.. que?” I asked.

“Lo siento.” he apologized for throwing a few too many words my way.

“Solo hablo un poquito de Español.” I told him I only speak a little Spanish.

“Hablas bastante bien.” he replied that I speak it well enough.


There was another break in the conversation. A chance to just look around again. I noticed his finger had no ring on it and I wondered why. I remembered the times I felt sick of being engaged and didn’t wear my engagement ring, though I hadn’t done anything like that since we got married.

The bus stopped fairly short. I was pushed into him. I fell on his shoulder a bit. He smiled. He smelt of cologne, but so lightly as not to offend in the least. Or maybe he was freshly showered and it was his shampoo. Maybe his deodorant. One of those “fresh mountain” scents or something. I didn’t know. Was he wearing cologne to see a woman other than his wife, or so he might flirt with a woman other than his wife? I didn’t know and I didn’t dare ask. I was in no position to judge either way.

It felt nice being close to the heat of his body. I didn’t want to get up, but I knew it would look awkward if I stayed there.

He glanced down at me and a big smile formed on his gorgeous full dark lips. I was striken with his handsomeness. I just wanted to kiss him so passionately.

Our eyes locked for a good moment. What seductive eyes he had. What is it about their eyes?

He reached over with his left hand and stroked my long dark hair which he had been admiring, just once. My heart was starting to beat pretty quickly. He smiled and looked back at the window, with the trace of that smile still remaining.

The bus was nearing to Seaview, my stop. I’d rather get a view of his bedroom. In maybe another five minutes, I had to get off. I wanted to get off with him.

I took my head off of his shoulder. He shot me a glance as though I had disappointed him, and looked back out the window.

I wanted to touch him, to do something with him. I could tell he liked it. He was very responsive to touch, which I had forgotten men could be.

I put my dainty white left hand on his big dark right hand. The contrast was something else to me. I wonder if he thought the same. He shifted in his seat. I wonder if that’d meant anything physically. I glanced down at his jeans. He seemed to have caught me looking.

He withdrew his hand, only to cover mine with it, resting innocently on his upper thigh. I wondered how his flesh would look under those jeans. I had never seen a man with such dark skin nude before. He pressed my hand down firmly and guided it closer to inside of his thigh.

He leaned in close to my ear. He whispered in his sexy low voice.

“¿Te gustaría tocarme allí? (Would you like to touch me there?)

God, yes, would I.

A big smile snuck up onto my face and I looked him in the eyes, hand being lead just where he wanted it.

The bus slowed down substantially. A loud and clear announcement came on over the P.A.

“Now approaching… Seaview.”

He glanced at the paper in my hand and back into my eyes. I wasn’t really sure what to avcılar escort do. I wanted to take my little trip as planned and arrive at a certain time to be home at a certain time. If I stayed on the bus with him, who knows where I would end up and what time I would get home. My husband would worry.

I decided to leave him with a kiss on the cheek. I was excited over him, definitely, but this was the right thing to do.

I put my lips to his razor-knicked cheek for a little kiss. He wasn’t about to accept that.

He turned quickly and my lips landed on his, him grabbing and holding the side of my face to make sure we had a big serious kiss.

He leaned into me and kissed me so lightly, slowly, gently. My head was spinning. I wanted his tongue inside my mouth. The way he moaned so slightly as he kissed me just drove me wild.

“Now stopping at… Seaview.” the system announced loudly, clearly, and unmistakeably.

I couldn’t move. And I certainly couldn’t get this much excitement from an organic food store.

The bus stopped completely. The old woman with the rain bonnet exited the bus, slowly, cautiously. I remained seated.

She was out the door, approaching the sidewalk. Nobody else had attempted to exit the bus. I still could have tried to leave.

I remained seated.

His hand still holding the side of my face, stroking my cheek, he laughed, smiling deviously at me.

“Next stop… Plain Bay.”

I wondered where exactly Sunbrook was, if that’s even where we were headed. It had to have been pretty far East, as the far East contained all the places which names I had never, or barely ever heard.

It was pretty grey outside. On the windows, I’d noticed a few tiny drops of water.

I was staring outside, kind of worried, and his lips were slowly leaving a trail of kisses on the sensitive skin of my neck. My body tingled for him. I put my hand back on his thigh, rubbing it up and down teasingly over his jeans. He grabbed my chin and directed me toward his pouting lips, holding my chin dominantly, kissing me so slowly, gently introducing his tongue into my mouth.

My hand found a warm bulge in the center of his thighs and stroked it softly.

“Mmmm,” he managed to moan with an accent, as he thrusted his hips lustfully.

My fingers found the outline of his manhood and began to rub back and forth, as if stroking his penis right through his jeans.

“Ahhhye, por Dios.” he uttered breathily, with obvious excitement in his voice.

“Now approaching… Plain Bay.”

It was raining now. The clouds were so dark up ahead. It looked like it could pour. The sound was pretty calming.

“Now stopping at… Plain Bay.”

The bus stopped and nobody got off. The bus was no longer crowded, but still fairly occupied.

The bus driver rose from her seat and walked half way down the aisle. My hand jumped away from the action.

Her eyes were fixated on us in particular and she said, “Hey hombre, will you watch yourself on my bus? We got kids in the back.” She glanced over at a blonde mother and child toward the back of the bus.

I felt the heat of a blush in my face and he responded, “No entiendo.” (I don’t understand.)

The bus driver sighed with annoyance, shook her head, and made her way back up to the front of the bus. I felt pretty embarrassed. I only imagined how José would feel, being the one that was actually reprimanded, for some reason.

“Next stop… Shadebrook.” the bus informed us.

Shadebrook? Was that near Sunbrook?

“¿Es cerca de tu hogar?” (Is that near your home?)

“Sí. Ven conmigo.” (Yes. Come with me.)

I smiled. I decided that would be a good idea. So long as his wife wasn’t home, or wouldn’t be home. If she would be, why would he invite me?

“Mi esposa es trabajando hasta las nueve.” (My wife is working till nine.)

“Eres muy mal.” I told him “you are so bad”. I wondered if his wife had made him feel as starved for affection as did my husband. Was he really so bad?

“Tienes hijos?” I asked if he had kids.

“Sí, dos.” He had two kids.

Perhaps the kids had made him feel obligated to stay, or he couldn’t bare to leave them, or something. But he was so starved for affection that he’d go crazy if he didn’t find it elsewhere. Or maybe he was just a prick who goes around seducing strangers and taking home people’s wives on a regular basis. Who knew?

“A mi esposa no le gusta hacer el amor.” He told me that his wife doesn’t like to make love.

Now we were on the same page. I would tell him the same of my husband, but would he believe me?

“Mi marido tampoco.” hopefully he would understand.

I wondered if they had always been like this, or did it become this way? Did she lose her sex drive after having kids? Did she fall into depression? Was she diabetic? Did she lose her good looks? Maybe she never liked sex, but he married her regardless, under-estimating the effect it could have, marrying her just for love?

I felt a little less alone after he had şirinevler escort said that.

“Now approaching… Shadebrook.”

I turned to him and kissed his lips softly, not planning to go further until going home with him. Hopefully he could control himself till then. I didn’t want us getting kicked off the bus and having to walk to another town in a downpour.

“Me encantaría tocarte abajo de tu falda.” his whispered in my ear, his raspy Spanish words meaning “I would love to touch you under your skirt”.

“Yo también. Estoy mojada para ti.” (Me too. I’m wet for you.)

“Mmmm.” he moaned, beginning to lick his thick lips suggestively.

I loved the idea of him wanting to eat my pussy. There’s nothing like having a man enthusiastic about giving you oral, not that I had often experienced that. I glanced at his lips and tried to imagine what they would feel like on my throbbing clit, what his mustache would look like with a light glaze of girly cum on it. How nice it would be to suck my juices off of his delicious full lips.

“Now stopping at… Shadebrook.”

The bus stopped. A young lady put the red hood of her jacket up and prepared for the downpour. An old man followed her, no hood or umbrella in sight. He took a newspaper and held it over his head as he ran toward an apartment complex.

It looked like night, but the screen on the bus said only two PM. It was pouring and you could hear it through the bus windows. Twenty percent chance of rain, my ass.

“Next stop… Sunbrook.”

I got excited. I definitely was wet for him and I couldn’t wait to take him home and lay him on his bed.

He put up the black swishy hood of his jacket. He looked so cute that way. It seemed to draw out his eyes.

“Cuantos años tienen tus hijos?” I was worrying about every little thing that could go wrong. I asked him how old his kids were.

“Seis y ocho.” six and eight, he said. “Estan en escuela.” They were in school.

“Whew.” I said. He laughed a little.

There was a silent pause.

His raspy voice told me, “No puedo esperar.” (I can’t wait.)

“Now approaching… Sunbrook.”

Butterflies were doing backflips in my stomach, maybe some somersaults.

He zipped his jacket all the way up and sat up a little straighter, adjusting himself in his pants.

“Now stopping at… Sunbrook.”

I rose, straightened my skirt for a second, and waited for him to guide me out the door. We left the bus together and I wondered if anyone noticed. I boarded the bus alone and was obviously leaving with this strange hombre. The blonde mother shot us a dirty look as we left and her daughter stared at us curiously.

The bus drove off and he took me by the hand into his house. The door creeked rather noisily as we entered, though there were no sounds after that except the rain. There were many windows in the house through which the darkness of the sky came in. He guided me down the dark, unlit hallway to the door to his bedroom. Another creeky door.

He had a modest twin mattress and there were papers and empty cans left randomly on the desk and dresser. All the hygenic supplies on the dresser were men’s. The only thing that would indicate the presence of a female was a family picture on that dresser. For all I knew, she could have slept on the couch.

Hand in mine, he lead me to the bed and sat down with me. We were on the edge of his bed. I looked into his big dark eyes and took down his hood. I put my hand on the side of his face and began kissing him slowly and gently. As I kissed him, he zipped down his jacket. He tossed his wet jacket over a nearby chair and I could see more of his deliciously dark flesh. Our tongues met and he was breathing heavily. I could see the erection in his jeans.

“Quiero eso cuerpo.” he whispered to me. (I want that body.)

He pushed me gently by my shoulders down onto his bed. He kissed my neck and trailed over to my collar bone, his hand moving up to my breast and cupping it, kneading it gently. My nipples were visible to him through my tight-fitting blouse, although I was wearing a bra. He traced one with his thumb and kissed the other over my blouse, taking it between his lips and I think even licking it through the blouse.

My pussy was waiting for him, easily accessable through the skirt and my thin panties. I was so ready for him. I wanted to take him inside me so badly.

He kissed me again, his dark eyes dim and staring into mine. His hands traced so slowly from my breasts, to my stomach, to my hips. I reached over me to the bottom of his white tee, which his dark skin just barely showed through. I lifted it up, and he took it off the rest of the way. His chest was a bit hairy and there was a trail of hair under his belly button down to his jeans. I traced it with my finger and he laughed quietly.

He undid his belt slowly, staring straight down into my eyes, pretending the belt was his cock and he was rubbing himself for me. He took off the belt and dropped it onto the floor. He undid the fly of his jeans and took them off, tossing them to the floor as well. His erection stood tall under the thin grey fabric of his boxers. He lowered himself onto my body, straddling me with his very erect penis giving my wet pussy the slightest hint of a poke under my skirt and my panties. I took off my shirt and threw it on his floor.

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